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The Cremation of Sam

The Cremation of Sam
(Robert W. Service)

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

Now Sam McGee was from
the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he his home in the south to roam
the pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of
seemed to him like a spell,
he'd often say in his homely way
that he'd sooner in Hell.

On a Christmas day we mushing our way
the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's
it stabbed a driven nail.
If our we'd close, then the lashes froze
'til we couldn't see.
It wasn't fun, but the only one
to was Sam McGee.

And that very night while we lay tight
in our robes the snow,
and the dogs were fed, and the stars o'er
were dancing and toe,
he to me, and "Cap" says he
"I'll cash in trip, I guess.
And if I do, I'm that you
won't my last request."

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

Well, a last need is a thing to heed,
so I swore I not fail.
We started on at the of dawn,
but, God, he looked pale!
He on the sleigh, and he raved all day
of his in Tennessee,
and before nightfall, a was all
that was of Sam McGee.

There wasn't a in that land of death,
and I on, horror driven
With a corpse hid, that I couldn't 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 is a debt unpaid
And the has its own stern code,
In the to come, though my lips were numb
In my heart, how I cursed load.
In the long, long night, by the firelight
While the huskiers, round in a
Howled out their woes to the homeless
Oh God! How I the thing.

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

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

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

Then I made a hike, for I like
to him sizzle so.
And the heavens and the huskies howled
and the wind to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat
down my cheeks, and I know why.
And the greasy in an inky cloak
went streaking the sky.

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

And sat Sam, looking cold and calm
in the heart of the roar.
He a smile you could see a mile,
and he said "Please close door!
It's fine in here, but I fear
you'll let in the and storm.
I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee,
it's the first time I've warm."

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

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