Luyện nghe bài hát Ballad Of Basphemous Bill

I took a to bury the body of blasphemous Bill MacKie
Whenever wherever or whatsoever the manner of he die
Whether he die in the light o' day or under the moon
In cabin or dance-hall or dive mucklucks or patent shoon

On velvet tundra or virgin by glacier drift or draw
In muskeg or canyon gloom by avalanche fang or claw
By battle murder or sudden wealth by hooch or lead
I swore on the Book I follow and look till I found my tombless dead

For Bill was a dainty kind of cuss and his was mighty sot
On a dinky patch with flowers and in a civilized boneyard lot
And he died or how he died it didn't matter a damn
So long as he had a grave with frills and a epigram

So I promised him and he paid the in good cheechako coin
Which the same I blowed in that very down in the Tenderloin
I painted a three-foot slab of pine here lies poor Bill MacKie
And I hung it up on my wall and waited for Bill to die

Years passed away and at last one day came a squaw a story strange
Of a long-deserted of traps way back of the Bighorn range
Of a little hut by the great divide and a white man stiff and
Lying there by his lonesome self and I it must be Bill

So I thought of the I'd made with him and I took down from the shelf
The swell black box with the silver plate he'd out for hisself
And I packed it full of grub and and I slung it on the sleigh
Then I harnessed up my team of dogs and was off at of day

You know what it's like in the wild when it's sixty-nine below
When the ice-worms wriggle their purple through the crust of the pale blue snow
the pine trees crack like little guns in the silence of the wood
And the icicles hang down like tusks under the parka

the stove-pipe smoke breaks sudden off and the sky is weirdly lit
And the careless feel of a bit of steel burns like a spit
When the mercury is a frozen ball and the frost-fiend to kill
Well it was just like that day when I set out to look for Bill

Oh the awful that seemed to crush me down on every hand
As I blundered blind with a trail to find through that blank and land
Half dazed half crazed in the winter wild with its heartbraking woes
And the strife for a grip on life that only the sourdough knows

North by the compass I pressed river and peak and plain
Passed like a dream I to lose and I waked to dream again
and plain and mighty peak and who could stand unawed
As their blazed he could stand undazed at the foot of the throne of God

aye North through a land accurst shunned by the scouring brutes
And all I was my own harsh word and the whine of the malamutes
Till at last I to a cabin squat built in the side of a hill
And I burst in the door and there on the floor to death lay Bill

Ice white ice like a sheathing each smoke-grimed wall
Ice on the stove-pipe ice on the bed ice gleaming all
Sparkling ice on the dead man's glittering ice in his hair
Ice on his fingers ice in his heart ice in his stare

Hard as a log and trussed like a frog his arms and legs outspread
I gazed at the coffin I'd brought for him and I gazed at the dead
And at last I spoke Bill liked his joke but goldarn his eyes
A man had ought to his mates in the way he goes and dies

Have you ever stood in an Arctic hut in the shadow of the
With a little coffin six by three and a grief you can't
Have you ever sat by a frozen that looks at you with a grin
And seems to say you may try all day but you'll never jam me in

I'm not a man of the quitting but I never felt so blue
As I sat there gazing at that and studying what I'd do
Then I rose and I kicked off the husky dogs that were nosing about
And I lit a roaring fire in the stove and I to thaw Bill out

Well I thawed and I thawed for thirteen but it didn't seem no good
His arms and his legs out like pegs as if they were made of wood
Till at I said it ain't no use he's froze too hard to thaw
He's obstinate and he won't lie so I guess I got to saw

So I sawed off poor Bill's arms and legs and I him snug and straight
In the little coffin he picked hisself the dinky silver plate
And I came nigh near to a tear as I nailed him safely down
Then I stowed him in my Yukon sleigh and I started back to town

So I buried him as the was in a narrow grave and deep
And there he's waiting the Great Clean-up when the the Judgment sluice-heads
And I my pipe and I meditate in the light of the Midnight Sun
And I wonder if they was the awful things I done

And as I sit and the parson talks of the Law
I often think of poor old Bill and how he was to saw