Luyện nghe bài hát The Cremation Of Sam McGee

The of Sam McGee

The of Sam McGee
(Robert W. Service)

There are strange done 'neath the midnight sun
by the men who for gold.
The arctic have their secret tales
that would your blood run cold.
The northern have seen queer sights
but the queerest they did see,
was that night on the of Lake LeBarge
I Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was Tennessee
where the cotton and blows.
Why he left his home in the south to
the pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of
to hold him like a spell,
though often say in his homely way
that he'd live in Hell.

On a Christmas day we were our way
the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the fold
it stabbed like a nail.
If our eyes close, then the lashes froze
'til sometimes we see.
It much fun, but the only one
to was Sam McGee.

And that night while we lay packed tight
in our robes the snow,
and the dogs were fed, and the stars head
were dancing and toe,
he turns to me, and "Cap" he
"I'll cash in trip, I guess.
And if I do, I'm that you
refuse my last request."

Well, he looked so low I couldn't say no,
then he with a sort of a moan,
"It's the cursed cold, got right hold
'til I'm chilled clean to the bone.
Yet tain't being dead, my awful dread
of an icy grave pains.
So I you to swear that foul or fair,
you'll cremate my remains."

Well, a friend's need is a thing to heed,
so I swore I not fail.
We on at the streak of dawn,
but, God, he ghastly pale!
He on the sleigh, and he raved all day
of his in Tennessee,
and before nightfall, a was all
was left of Sam McGee.

There a breath in that land of death,
and I hurried on, driven
With a corpse half hid, that I get rid,
because of a given.
It was to the sleigh, and it seemed to say,
"You may tax your and brains,
but you true, and it's up to you
to cremate last remains."

Now, a promise made is a unpaid
And the has its own stern code,
In the days to come, though my were numb
In my heart, how I cursed load.
In the long, night, by the lone firelight
the huskiers, round in a ring
Howled out woes to the homeless snows
Oh God! How I the thing.

And day that quiet clay
seemed to and heavier grow.
But on I went, though the dogs spent
and the was getting low.
The was bad, and I felt half mad,
but I swore I would not in.
And I'd sing to the hateful thing
and it harkened a grin!

I came to the marge of Lake LeBarge
and a derelict lay.
It was in the ice, but I saw in a trice
it was the "Alice May".
And I at it, and I thought a bit,
And I at my frozen chum,
Then "Here" said I with a cry
"is my cre-ma-tor-eum!"

planks I tore from the cabin floor
and I lit the fire.
Some coal I found that was lying
and I heaped the higher.
The flames just and the furnace roared,
such a blaze you see.
Then I burrowed a hole in the coal
and I in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I like
to him sizzle so.
And the heavens scowled and the huskies
and the wind to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat
my cheeks, and I don't know why.
And the greasy in an inky cloak
streaking down the sky.

I do not know how in the snow
I with grisly fear.
But the stars were out and they danced
'ere I ventured near.
I was sick dread, but I bravely said
"I'll just take a inside.
He's probably cooked, and it's I looked."
the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, cold and calm
in the of the furnace roar.
He wore a you could see a mile,
and he "Please close that door!
fine in here, but I greatly fear
you'll let in the and storm.
Since I left Plumtree, in Tennessee,
it's the time I've been warm."

There are strange things done the midnight sun
by the men who for gold.
The arctic trails have secret tales
would make your blood run cold.
The northern lights have queer sights,
but the they ever did see
was that night on the marge of Lake
I Sam McGee.

AJS