Select language to translate this lyric
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, ill cash in this trip, i guess;
and if i do, im
asking
that
you
wont refuse my last request."
- Album:
- Miscellaneous
- The Singing Ranger Vol. 4
- Gospel Train
- When Tragedy Struck
- Hank Snow Sings Sacred Songs
- Country & Western Jamboree
- Old Doc Brown and Other Narrations by Hank Snow
- Hank Snow Salutes Jimmie Rodgers
- Country Classics
- Hank Snow Sings
- Legend Of Old Doc Brown
- Songs Of Tragedy
- Souvenirs
- Hello Love
- When My Blue Moon Turns To Gold
- The Jimmie Rodgers Story
- The Singing Ranger Vol. 3
- Hits Hits And More Hits
- Spanish Fire Ball And Other Great Hank Snow Stylin
- The Singing Ranger