The Cremation Of Sam Mcgee chords

There are [Em]strange things done in the [G]midnight [D]sun
By the [Em]men who [C]moil for [D]gold;
The [Em]Arctic trails have their [G]secret [D]tales
That would [Em]make your [D]blood run [Em]cold;
The [G]Northern Lights have [D]seen queer sights,
But the [Em]queerest they [C]ever did [D]see
Was that [Em]night on the marge of [G]Lake [D]Lebarge
I [Em]cremated [D]Sam Mc[Em]Gee.

Now [Em]Sam McGee was from [G]Tenness[D]ee,
where the [Em]cotton [C]blooms and [D]blows.
Why he [Em]left his home in the [G]South to [D]roam
'round the [Em]Pole, [D]God only [Em]knows.
He was [G]always cold, but the [D]land of gold
seemed to [Em]hold him [C]like a [D]spell;
Though he'd [Em]often say in his [G]homely [D]way
that he'd [Em]"sooner [D]live in [Em]hell".

On a [Em]Christmas Day we were [G]mushing our [D]way
[Em]over the [C]Dawson [D]trail.
[Em]Talk of your cold! through the [G]parka's [D]fold
it [Em]stabbed like a [D]driven [Em]nail.
If our [G]eyes we'd close, then the [D]lashes froze
till [Em]sometimes we [C]couldn't [D]see;
It [Em]wasn't much fun, but the [G]only [D]one
to [Em]whimper was [D]Sam [Em]McGee.

And that [Em]very night, as we [G]lay packed [D]tight
in our [Em]robes benea[C]th the [D]snow,
And the [Em]dogs were fed, and the [G]stars over [D]head
were [Em]dancing [D]heel and [Em]toe,
He [G]turned to me, and [D]"Cap," says he,
"I'll [Em]cash in this [C]trip, I [D]guess;
And [Em]if I do, I'm [G]asking that [D]you
won't [Em]refuse my [D]last [Em]request."

Well, he [Em]seemed so low that I [G]couldn't say [D]no;
then he [Em]says with a [C]sort of [D]moan:
"It's the [Em]cursed cold, and it's [G]got right [D]hold
till I'm [Em]chilled clean [D]through to the [Em]bone.
Yet '[G]tain't being dead -- it's my [D]awful dread
of the [Em]icy [C]grave that [D]pains;
So I [Em]want you to swear that, [G]foul or [D]fair,
you'll c[Em]remate my [D]last rem[Em]ains."

A [Em]pal's last need is a [G]thing to [D]heed,
so I [Em]swore I [C]would not [D]fail;
And we [Em]started on at the [G]streak of [D]dawn;
but [Em]God! he [D]looked ghastly [Em]pale.
He [G]crouched on the sleigh, and he [D]raved all day
of his [Em]home in [C]Tennes[D]see;
And befo[Em]re nightfall a [G]corpse was [D]all
that was [Em]left of [D]Sam Mc[Em]Gee.

There [Em]wasn't a breath in that [G]land of [D]death,
and I [Em]hurried, [C]horror-[D]driven,
With a [Em]corpse half hid that I [G]couldn't get [D]rid,
beca[Em]use of a [D]promise [Em]given;
It was [G]lashed to the sleigh, and it [D]seemed to say:
"You may [Em]tax your [C]brawn and [D]brains,
But you [Em]promised true, and it's [G]up to [D]you
to crem[Em]ate those [D]last re[Em]mains."

Now a [Em]promise made is a [G]debt unp[D]aid,
and the [Em]trail has its [C]own stern [D]code.
In the [Em]days to come, though my [G]lips were [D]dumb,
in my [Em]heart how I [D]cursed that [Em]load.
In the [G]long, long night, by the [D]lone firelight,
while the [Em]huskies, [C]round in a [D]ring,
Howled [Em]out their woes to the [G]homeless [D]snows
-- O [Em]God! how I [D]loathed the [Em]thing.

And [Em]every day that [G]quiet [D]clay
seemed to [Em]heavy and [C]heavier [D]grow;
And on I [Em]went, though the [G]dogs were [D]spent
and the [Em]grub was [D]getting [Em]low;
The [G]trail was bad, and I [D]felt half mad,
but I [Em]swore I [C]would not give [D]in;
And I'd [Em]often sing to the [G]hateful [D]thing,
and it [Em]hearkened [D]with a [Em]grin.

Till I [Em]came to the marge of [G]Lake Le[D]barge,
and a [Em]derelict [C]there [D]lay;
It was [Em]jammed in the ice, but I [G]saw in a [D]trice
it was [Em]called the "[D]Alice [Em]May".
And I [G]looked at it, and I [D]thought a bit,
and I [Em]looked at my [C]frozen [D]chum;
Then [Em]"Here," said I, with a [G]sudden [D]cry,
"is my [Em]cre-ma-[D]tor-e[Em]um."

Some [Em]planks I tore from the [G]cabin [Em]floor,
and I [Em]lit the [C]boiler [D]fire;
Some [Em]coal I found that was [G]lying aro[D]und,
and I [Em]heaped the [D]fuel [Em]higher;
The [G]flames just soared, and the [D]furnace roared
-- such a [Em]blaze you [C]seldom [D]see;
And I [Em]burrowed a hole in the [G]glowing [D]coal,
and I [Em]stuffed in [D]Sam Mc[Em]Gee.

Then I [Em]made a hike, for I [G]didn't [D]like
to [Em]hear him [C]sizzle [D]so;
And the [Em]heavens scowled, and the [G]huskies [D]howled,
and the [Em]wind beg[D]an to [Em]blow.
It was [G]icy cold, but the [D]hot sweat rolled
down my [Em]cheeks, and I [C]don't know [Em]why;
And the [Em]greasy smoke in an [G]inky [D]cloak
went [Em]streaking [D]down the [Em]sky.

I [Em]do not know how [G]long in the [D]snow
I [Em]wrestled with [C]grisly [D]fear;
But the [Em]stars came out and they [G]danced ab[D]out
ere [Em]again I [D]ventured [Em]near;
I was [G]sick with dread, but I [D]bravely said:
"I'll just [Em]take a [C]peep ins[D]ide.
I [Em]guess he's cooked, and it's [G]time I [D]looked"; . . .
then the [Em]door I [D]opened [Em]wide.

And [Em]there sat Sam, looking [G]cool and [D]calm,
in the [Em]heart of the [C]furnace [D]roar;
And he [Em]wore a smile you could [G]see a [D]mile,
and he [Em]said: "Please [D]close that [Em]door.
It's [G]fine in here, but I [D]greatly fear
you'll [Em]let in the [D]cold and [Em]storm --
Since I [Em]left Plumtree, down in [G]Tennes[D]see,
it's the [Em]first time [D]I've been [Em]warm."

There are [Em]strange things done in the [G]midnight [D]sun
By the [Em]men who [C]moil for [D]gold;
The [Em]Arctic trails have their [G]secret [D]tales
That would [Em]make your [D]blood run [Em]cold;
The [G]Northern Lights have [D]seen queer sights,
But the [Em]queerest they [C]ever did [D]see
Was that [Em]night on the marge of [G]Lake [D]Lebarge
I [Em]cremated [D]Sam Mc[Em]Gee.