SamMcGee

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.

—From Later Collected Verse; by Robert Service;
Dodd, Mead & Company; New York; 1970; pages 33-36.