There are midnight sun By the for gold; The Arctic secret tales That would run cold; The Northern queer sights, But the did see Was that Sam McGee. Now Sam and blows. Why he only knows. He was a spell; Though he'd in hell". On a Dawson trail. Talk of driven nail. If our not see; T'was not Sam McGee. And that the snow, And the and toe, He turns I guess; And if last request." Well, he of moan: "It's the the bone. Yet 'taint that pains; So I last remains." A pal's not fail; And we ghastly pale. He crouched in Tennessee; And before Sam McGee. There wasn't hurried, horror-driven, With a promise given; It was and brains, But you last remains." Now a stern code. In the that load. In the a ring, Howled out that thing. And every heavier grow; And on getting low; The trail give in; And I'd a grin. Till I there lay; It was "Alice May." So I frozen chum; Then "Here," my cre-ma-tor-eum." Some planks boiler fire; Some coal fuel higher; The flames seldom see; I burrowed Sam McGee. Then I sizzle so; And the to blow. It was know why; And the the sky. I do grisly fear; But the ventured near; I was peep inside. I guess opened wide. And there furnace roar; He wore the door. It's fine and storm. Since I been warm." There are for gold; The Arctic run cold; The Northern did see Was that Sam McGee.
I want this page as a PDF. View recital by Jon.