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The Cremation of Sam

The Cremation of Sam
(Robert W. Service)

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

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

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

And very night while we lay packed tight
in our robes the snow,
and the dogs fed, and the stars o'er head
dancing heel and toe,
he turns to me, and "Cap" he
"I'll in this trip, I guess.
And if I do, I'm that you
refuse 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, got right hold
I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet tain't being dead, it's my dread
of an icy grave pains.
So I want you to that foul or fair,
cremate my last remains."

Well, a friend's need is a thing to heed,
so I I would not fail.
We on at the streak 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.

wasn't a breath in that land of death,
and I hurried on, horror
With a corpse half hid, 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 promised true, and up to you
to cremate last remains."

Now, a made 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 that load.
In the long, long night, by the firelight
the huskiers, round in a ring
Howled out their woes to the snows
Oh God! How I the thing.

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

I came to the marge of Lake LeBarge
and a there 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 looked at my chum,
Then "Here" said I with a cry
"is my cre-ma-tor-eum!"

Some planks I tore from the cabin
and I lit the fire.
Some coal I found was lying around
and I heaped the higher.
The flames soared and the furnace roared,
such a blaze you see.
I burrowed 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 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
streaking down the sky.

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

And there sat Sam, looking cold and
in the heart of the roar.
He wore a smile you see a mile,
and he said "Please close door!
It's fine in here, but I greatly
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 'neath the midnight sun
by the men who for gold.
The arctic trails have their secret
that would make blood run cold.
The lights have seen queer sights,
but the they ever did see
was that night on the marge of LeBarge
I Sam McGee.

AJS