Текст песни The Cremation of Sam McGee - Johnny Cash
The
Cremation
of
Sam
McGee
The
Cremation
of
Sam
McGee
(Robert
W.
Service)
There
are
strange
things
done
'neath
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
'til
sometimes
we
couldn't
see.
It
wasn't
much
fun,
but
the
only
one
to
whimper
was
Sam
McGee.
And
that
very
night
while
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
turns
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
looked
so
low
that
I
couldn't
say
no,
then
he
says
with
a
sort
of
a
moan,
"It's
the
cursed
cold,
it's
got
right
hold
'til
I'm
chilled
clean
through
to
the
bone.
Yet
tain't
being
dead,
it's
my
awful
dread
of
an
icy
grave
that
pains.
So
I
want
you
to
swear
that
foul
or
fair,
you'll
cremate
my
last
remains."
Well,
a
friend's
last
need
is
a
thing
to
heed,
so
I
swore
I
would
not
fail.
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
on,
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
these
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
numb
In
my
heart,
how
I
cursed
that
load.
In
the
long,
long
night,
by
the
lone
firelight
While
the
huskiers,
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.
But
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
harkened
with
a
grin!
Then
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.
Then
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
were
out
and
they
danced
about
'ere
again
I
ventured
near.
I
was
sick
with
dread,
but
I
bravely
said
"I'll
just
take
a
peek
inside.
He's
probably
cooked,
and
it's
time
I
looked."
Then
the
door
I
opened
wide.
And
there
sat
Sam,
looking
cold
and
calm
in
the
heart
of
the
furnace
roar.
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
'neath
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.
AJS
oct97
Альбом
Personal File
1 There's a Mother Always Waiting At Home
2 One of These Days I'm Gonna Sit Down and Talk to Paul
3 I Don't Believe You Wanted to Leave
4 My Children Walk In the Truth
5 When I Stop Dreaming
6 The Way Worn Traveler
7 The House Is Falling Down
8 The Cremation of Sam McGee
9 Paradise
10 My Mother Was a Lady
11 Life's Railway to Heaven
12 In the Sweet Bye and Bye
13 I Wanted So
14 Have Thine Own Way Lord
15 Seal It In My Heart and Mind
16 A Fast Song
17 The Engineer's Dying Child
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