Luyện nghe bài hát The Cremation Of Sam McGee

The of Sam McGee

The of Sam McGee
(Robert W. Service)

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

Now Sam was from Tennessee
where the blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the south to
'round the pole, God knows.
He was always cold, but the of gold
seemed to hold him a spell,
though he'd say in his homely way
that he'd sooner in Hell.

On a Christmas day we were our way
the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's
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 very while we lay packed tight
in our robes the snow,
and the dogs fed, and the stars o'er head
were heel and toe,
he to me, and "Cap" says he
"I'll cash in 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 cursed cold, got right hold
I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet being dead, it's my awful dread
of an icy that pains.
So I want you to that foul or fair,
you'll cremate my remains."

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

There wasn't a breath in that of death,
and I on, horror driven
With a corpse hid, that I couldn't get rid,
of a promise given.
It was to the sleigh, and it seemed to say,
"You may tax brawn and brains,
but you true, and it's up to you
to cremate these remains."

Now, a promise made is a unpaid
And the trail has its own code,
In the to come, though my lips 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 their woes to the snows
Oh God! How I the thing.

And every day that quiet
seemed to heavy and grow.
But on I went, the dogs were 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 hateful
and it harkened a grin!

Then I came to the marge of Lake
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" I with a sudden cry
"is my cre-ma-tor-eum!"

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

Then I made a hike, for I like
to hear him 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 don't why.
And the greasy in an inky cloak
went streaking the sky.

I do not know how long in the
I with grisly fear.
But the stars were out and danced about
'ere again I near.
I was sick dread, but I bravely said
"I'll take a peek inside.
probably cooked, and it's time I looked."
Then the door I wide.

And there sat Sam, looking and calm
in the heart of the roar.
He a smile you could see a mile,
and he said "Please 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 'neath the sun
by the men who for gold.
The arctic trails have 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.

AJS