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- There are strange things done in the midnight sun
- By the men who moil for gold;
- The Arctic trails have their secret tales
- That would make your blood run cold;
- The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
- But the queerest they ever did see
- Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
- I cremated Sam McGee.
- Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
- Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
- He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
- Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."
- On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
- Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
- If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;
- It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.
- And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
- And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,
- He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
- And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."
- Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
- "It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
- Yet 'tain't being dead—it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
- So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."
- A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
- And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
- He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
- And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.
- There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
- With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;
- It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,
- But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."
- Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
- In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
- In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
- Howled out their woes to the homeless snows— O God! how I loathed the thing.
- And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
- And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
- The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
- And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin
- Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;
- It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."
- And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;
- Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."
- Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
- Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
- The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;
- And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.
- Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;
- And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
- It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
- And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.
- I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
- But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
- I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.
- I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.
- And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
- And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.
- It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm—
- Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."
- There are strange things done in the midnight sun
- By the men who moil for gold;
- The Arctic trails have their secret tales
- That would make your blood run cold;
- The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
- But the queerest they ever did see
- Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
- I cremated Sam McGee.
- >>1348499
- Did Sam McGee die?
- >>1348661
- You might just say, that if he had it his way, he's alive and well at home.
- But truth be told, he never grew old, because I left him in that fire alone.
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