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The Cremation of Sam

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 make your blood run cold.
The northern lights seen queer sights
but the queerest they did see,
was that on the marge of Lake LeBarge
I Sam McGee.

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

On a Christmas day we were our way
the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the fold
it stabbed a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, the lashes froze
sometimes we couldn't see.
It much fun, but the only one
to was Sam McGee.

And that very night we lay packed tight
in our beneath the snow,
and the dogs were fed, and the stars o'er
dancing heel and toe,
he to me, and "Cap" says he
"I'll in this trip, I guess.
And if I do, I'm asking 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 chilled through to the bone.
Yet tain't being dead, my awful dread
of an icy grave 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 I would not fail.
We on at the streak of dawn,
but, God, he ghastly 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 land of death,
and I on, horror driven
With a corpse hid, that I couldn't get rid,
because of a given.
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it to say,
"You may tax brawn 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 days to come, though my were numb
In my heart, how I cursed load.
In the long, long night, by the firelight
While the huskiers, in a ring
Howled out their woes to the homeless
Oh God! How I the thing.

And day that quiet clay
to heavy and heavier grow.
But on I went, the dogs were spent
and the grub was 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 harkened a grin!

Then I came to the marge of LeBarge
and a there 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 at my frozen chum,
Then "Here" said I a sudden 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 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 a hike, for I didn't like
to hear him so.
And the scowled 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 smoke in an inky cloak
went down the sky.

I do not know how long in the
I wrestled with fear.
But the stars out and they danced 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."
the door I opened wide.

And sat Sam, looking cold and calm
in the heart of the roar.
He wore a smile you see a mile,
and he said "Please that door!
It's in here, but I greatly fear
you'll let in the and storm.
Since I Plumtree, down 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 have their secret tales
that make your blood run cold.
The northern lights have seen sights,
but the they ever did see
was that on the marge of Lake LeBarge
I Sam McGee.

AJS