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The Cremation of Sam

The of Sam McGee
(Robert W. Service)

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

Now Sam was from Tennessee
where the blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the to roam
'round the pole, God knows.
He was cold, but the land of gold
seemed to him like a spell,
he'd often say in his homely way
that he'd live in Hell.

On a day we were mushing our way
over the trail.
Talk of cold! through the parka's fold
it stabbed like a nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the froze
'til sometimes we see.
It wasn't much fun, but the one
to was Sam McGee.

And that very while we lay packed tight
in our beneath the snow,
and the dogs were fed, and the stars o'er
were heel and toe,
he turns to me, and "Cap" he
"I'll in this trip, I guess.
And if I do, I'm asking you
refuse my last request."

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

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

There wasn't a breath in that of death,
and I on, horror driven
a corpse half 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 promised true, and up to you
to cremate these remains."

Now, a promise made is a debt
And the has its own stern code,
In the days to come, 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 woes to the homeless snows
Oh God! How I the thing.

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

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

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

Then I made a hike, for I didn't
to him sizzle so.
And the heavens scowled and the howled
and the began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot rolled
down my cheeks, and I know why.
And the greasy smoke in an cloak
streaking down the sky.

I do not how long in the snow
I wrestled with fear.
But the stars were out and danced about
'ere I ventured near.
I was sick with dread, but I bravely
"I'll just a peek inside.
He's probably cooked, and time I looked."
Then the I opened 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 in here, but I greatly fear
let in the cold and storm.
Since I Plumtree, down in Tennessee,
it's the first time been warm."

There are strange things done 'neath the sun
by the men who for gold.
The trails have their secret tales
that would make your 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