Robert William Service
Robert William Service Poems
|802.||A Song Of Sixty-Five||1/13/2003|
|806.||A Canvas For A Crust||1/13/2003|
|808.||A Pot Of Tea||1/13/2003|
|809.||Young Fellow My Lad||1/13/2003|
|812.||A Domestic Tragedy||1/13/2003|
|814.||A Mediocre Man||1/13/2003|
|815.||A Song Of Success||1/13/2003|
|816.||Death Of A Cockroach||1/13/2003|
|818.||A Lyric Day||1/13/2003|
|819.||A Rusty Nail||1/13/2003|
|820.||(the Sunshine Seeks My Little Room)||1/13/2003|
|821.||The Men That Don'T Fit In||1/13/2003|
|822.||A Song Of Suicide||1/13/2003|
|825.||A Cabbage Patch||1/13/2003|
|826.||A Rolling Stone||1/13/2003|
|827.||A Busy Man||1/13/2003|
|828.||A Little Prayer||1/13/2003|
|829.||The Shooting Of Dan Mcgrew||1/13/2003|
|833.||Home And Love||1/13/2003|
|835.||A Grain Of Sand||1/13/2003|
|836.||The Cremation Of Sam Mcgee||1/13/2003|
The Cremation Of Sam Mcgee
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 ...
I would rather drink than eat,
And though I superbly sup,
Food, I feel, can never beat
Delectation of the cup.
Wine it is that crowns the feast;
Fish and fowl and fancy meat
Are of my delight the least:
I would rather drink than eat.