The Cremation of Sam McGee

Proper
ways to go
are few

On the last day of December
I stood beside the frozen
lagoon,
And watched Sam McGee
from Yukon
Go up in the smoke
to the moon.

I bet
you don't know
why.

I stood on the bank
of the Lewes
River,
And felt my blood
run chill and
deep,
For I knew that
Sam McGee was
shivering,
And longing for
the warmth of
sleep.

He spoke of the
Alaskan
gold fields,
And of the rich
claims he had
found,
And how he'd left
his claims to
seek
A warmer spot
of ground.

He said, "It's good
to be out
of the cold,
And to have
a good fire
to warm
my bones,
But
I ain't got
no place
to go,
And
I ain't got
no
home,
And
I ain't got
nobody
to care
for
me."

So I says, "Sam,
you can come
and live
with me,
And I'll give
you
a place
by my
fire."

Then the next
morning
we started
for the north,
And we came
to the
Yukon
River,
And
we found
a place
called
Klondike,
And
we saw
a man
named
McGee.

He was a miner,
and he was
a friend of
mine,
And he was
a poet,
and he
was a
musician,
And he
was a
painter,
And he
was a
sculptor.

He had a cabin
on the
river bank,
And he
had a
garden
in the
back,
And he
had a
dog,
and he
had a
cat,
And he
had a
parrot,
And he
had a
monkey.

He was a
kindly
man,
And he
was a
good
man,
And he
was a
wise
man,
And he
was a
brave
man.

There are strange
things
done
in the
night
By the men
and girls
down
there;
The wiked
die
and the
good
go
free,
But
I
am
a
stranger
here.

And
if
when
my
time
comes
I
am
sent
below,
Or
up
to
the
sky,
I
shall
not
forget
the
day
I
met
Sam
McGee.

I
shall
not
forget
the
day
I
met
Sam
McGee.