Cremation Of Sam Mcgee Video (MV)

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'er head 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 cursed cold and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone

Yet taint 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 oh 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 crematoreum



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