Poetry Analysis

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The Cremation of Sam McGee

Original Poetry

Translation

The Cremation of Sam McGee

By Robert W. Service

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

Strange things happen in the Arctic sun

By the men who moil for gold;

By men searching for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

The Arctic paths have hidden stories

That would make your blood run cold;

That would make you shiver;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

The Northern Lights have seen odd sights,

But the queerest they ever did see

But the oddest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

Was that night at Lake Lebarge

I cremated Sam McGee.

I burned Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.

Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where cotton grows.

Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.

Why he left the South to wander near the Pole, only God knows.

He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;

He was always cold, but the gold seemed to enchant him;

Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."

Though he'd often say he'd rather be in hell.

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.

On Christmas Day we were traveling over the Dawson trail.

Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.

Talk about cold! It pierced through our clothes like a nail.

If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;

If we closed our eyes, our lashes froze so we couldn't see;

It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

It wasn't fun, but only Sam McGee complained.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,

That night, as we lay tightly wrapped in snow,

And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,

And the dogs were fed, and stars danced above,

He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;

He turned to me, and said, "I'll die on this trip, I think;

And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."

And if I do, please fulfill my last wish."

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:

He seemed so sad I couldn't refuse; then he moaned:

"It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.

"It's the cursed cold, it's got me chilled to the bone.

Yet 'tain't being dead—it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;

It's not death—it's the fear of an icy grave that hurts;

So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."

So promise me, no matter what, you'll burn my body."

A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;

A friend's last wish is important, so I promised;

And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.

And we started at dawn; but he looked very pale.

He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;

He sat on the sleigh, talking all day about Tennessee;

And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

And by nightfall, he was dead.

There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,

There was no life in that deadly land, and I hurried, scared,

With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;

With a body I couldn't leave, because of a promise;

It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,

It was tied to the sleigh, and seemed to say: "You must use your strength and mind,

But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."

But you promised, and you must burn my body."

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.

A promise is a debt, and the trail has strict rules.

In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.

In the days that followed, though I was silent, I cursed that burden.

In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,

In the long night, by the firelight, while the dogs howled,

Howled out their woes to the homeless snows— O God! how I loathed the thing.

I hated the thing.

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;

Every day the body seemed heavier;

And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;

And I kept going, though the dogs were tired and food was low;

The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;

The trail was difficult, and I felt crazy, but I wouldn't give up;

And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

And I'd often sing to the body, and it seemed to grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;

Until I reached Lake Lebarge, and found a derelict;

It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."

It was stuck in the ice, but I quickly saw it was called "Alice May."

And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;

I looked at it, and thought, and looked at my frozen friend;

Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."

Then I shouted, "Here's my crematorium."

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;

I tore some planks from the cabin floor, and lit the fire;

Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;

I found some coal and added more fuel;

The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;

The flames soared, and the furnace roared—a rare sight;

And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

And I dug a hole in the coal, and put Sam McGee in.

Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;

Then I walked away, because I didn't want to hear him burn;

And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.

And the sky darkened, the dogs howled, and the wind blew.

It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;

It was freezing, but I was sweating, and I don't know why;

And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

And the black smoke streaked across the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;

I don't know how long I fought fear in the snow;

But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;

But the stars came out and danced before I went back;

I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.

I was scared, but I said: "I'll just look inside.

I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.

I guess he's done, and it's time to check"; ... then I opened the door.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;

And there sat Sam, looking calm, in the furnace;

And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.

And he smiled, and said: "Please close the door.

It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm—

It's nice in here, but I'm afraid you'll let in the cold—

Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

Since I left Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

Strange things happen in the Arctic sun

By the men who moil for gold;

By men searching for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

The Arctic paths have hidden stories

That would make your blood run cold;

That would make you shiver;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

The Northern Lights have seen odd sights,

But the queerest they ever did see

But the oddest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

Was that night at Lake Lebarge

I cremated Sam McGee.

I burned Sam McGee.

Explanation

The poem 'The Cremation of Sam McGee' by Robert W. Service is a narrative poem set during the Klondike Gold Rush. It tells the story of Sam McGee, a prospector from Tennessee who is unaccustomed to the harsh Arctic cold. Despite his discomfort, he is drawn to the North by the allure of gold. As he travels with the narrator, he expresses his fear of being buried in the icy ground and makes his friend promise to cremate him if he dies. After Sam's death, the narrator struggles to fulfill this promise, carrying Sam's body through the unforgiving landscape until he finds an abandoned ship, the 'Alice May', to use as a makeshift crematorium. The poem is rich with imagery and uses the harshness of the Arctic environment to underscore themes of friendship, promises, and the human struggle against nature. The unexpected twist at the end, where Sam is found enjoying the warmth of the furnace, adds a touch of dark humor to the tale. Service's use of rhyme and rhythm enhances the storytelling, making it both engaging and memorable.

Word Dictionary15

Word	In English	Plain (English)	Pron.
moil	work hard	to labor or toil intensely	moyl
marge	edge	the edge or border of something	mahrj
mushing	traveling with sled dogs	traveling over snow with a dog sled	muh-shing
parka	heavy coat	a warm, hooded jacket	par-kuh
whimper	cry softly	to make low, feeble sounds of pain or distress	whim-per
cursèd	cursed	under a curse; afflicted	kur-sed
ghastly	horrible	shockingly frightful or dreadful	gast-lee
brawn	muscle strength	physical strength	brawn
huskies	sled dogs	a breed of dog used for pulling sleds	huh-skeez
derelict	abandoned	a ship or building that is deserted and neglected	der-uh-likt
cre-ma-tor-eum	place for burning bodies	a facility where bodies are cremated	kree-muh-tor-ee-um
sizzle	make a hissing sound	to make a sound like frying	siz-ul
grisly	gruesome	causing horror or disgust	griz-lee
furnace	heater	an enclosed structure for intense heat	fur-nis
cloak	covering	a loose outer garment or covering	klohk

Poet & Context

PoetRobert W. Service

EraEarly 20th century

Robert William Service was an English-born Canadian poet known as 'The Bard of the Yukon'. He gained fame for his poems about the Klondike Gold Rush, despite having no personal experience in mining. His works, including 'The Cremation of Sam McGee', were immensely popular, though often dismissed by critics as doggerel.

View on Wikipedia

When1907

WhyThe poem was inspired by the tales of the Klondike Gold Rush and the harsh conditions faced by prospectors in the Arctic. Service was captivated by the stories of the North and used them to create vivid and imaginative narratives.

FormNarrative poem

Themes & More

Themes

friendshippromisestruggle against naturedark humor

Literary devices

imagery: Vivid descriptions of the Arctic landscape and the cold.rhyme: The poem uses a consistent rhyme scheme to enhance its rhythm.dark humor: The unexpected twist with Sam McGee enjoying the warmth.personification: The Northern Lights and the Arctic trails are given human-like qualities.alliteration: Repeated consonant sounds, such as 'strange things' and 'midnight sun'.

Poetry Analysis

Back to poet

The Cremation of Sam McGee

Original Poetry

Translation

The Cremation of Sam McGee

By Robert W. Service

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

Strange things happen in the Arctic sun

By the men who moil for gold;

By men searching for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

The Arctic paths have hidden stories

That would make your blood run cold;

That would make you shiver;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

The Northern Lights have seen odd sights,

But the queerest they ever did see

But the oddest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

Was that night at Lake Lebarge

I cremated Sam McGee.

I burned Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.

Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where cotton grows.

Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.

Why he left the South to wander near the Pole, only God knows.

He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;

He was always cold, but the gold seemed to enchant him;

Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."

Though he'd often say he'd rather be in hell.

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.

On Christmas Day we were traveling over the Dawson trail.

Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.

Talk about cold! It pierced through our clothes like a nail.

If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;

If we closed our eyes, our lashes froze so we couldn't see;

It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

It wasn't fun, but only Sam McGee complained.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,

That night, as we lay tightly wrapped in snow,

And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,

And the dogs were fed, and stars danced above,

He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;

He turned to me, and said, "I'll die on this trip, I think;

And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."

And if I do, please fulfill my last wish."

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:

He seemed so sad I couldn't refuse; then he moaned:

"It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.

"It's the cursed cold, it's got me chilled to the bone.

Yet 'tain't being dead—it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;

It's not death—it's the fear of an icy grave that hurts;

So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."

So promise me, no matter what, you'll burn my body."

A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;

A friend's last wish is important, so I promised;

And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.

And we started at dawn; but he looked very pale.

He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;

He sat on the sleigh, talking all day about Tennessee;

And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

And by nightfall, he was dead.

There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,

There was no life in that deadly land, and I hurried, scared,

With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;

With a body I couldn't leave, because of a promise;

It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,

It was tied to the sleigh, and seemed to say: "You must use your strength and mind,

But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."

But you promised, and you must burn my body."

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.

A promise is a debt, and the trail has strict rules.

In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.

In the days that followed, though I was silent, I cursed that burden.

In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,

In the long night, by the firelight, while the dogs howled,

Howled out their woes to the homeless snows— O God! how I loathed the thing.

I hated the thing.

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;

Every day the body seemed heavier;

And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;

And I kept going, though the dogs were tired and food was low;

The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;

The trail was difficult, and I felt crazy, but I wouldn't give up;

And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

And I'd often sing to the body, and it seemed to grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;

Until I reached Lake Lebarge, and found a derelict;

It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."

It was stuck in the ice, but I quickly saw it was called "Alice May."

And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;

I looked at it, and thought, and looked at my frozen friend;

Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."

Then I shouted, "Here's my crematorium."

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;

I tore some planks from the cabin floor, and lit the fire;

Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;

I found some coal and added more fuel;

The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;

The flames soared, and the furnace roared—a rare sight;

And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

And I dug a hole in the coal, and put Sam McGee in.

Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;

Then I walked away, because I didn't want to hear him burn;

And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.

And the sky darkened, the dogs howled, and the wind blew.

It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;

It was freezing, but I was sweating, and I don't know why;

And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

And the black smoke streaked across the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;

I don't know how long I fought fear in the snow;

But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;

But the stars came out and danced before I went back;

I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.

I was scared, but I said: "I'll just look inside.

I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.

I guess he's done, and it's time to check"; ... then I opened the door.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;

And there sat Sam, looking calm, in the furnace;

And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.

And he smiled, and said: "Please close the door.

It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm—

It's nice in here, but I'm afraid you'll let in the cold—

Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

Since I left Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

Strange things happen in the Arctic sun

By the men who moil for gold;

By men searching for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

The Arctic paths have hidden stories

That would make your blood run cold;

That would make you shiver;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

The Northern Lights have seen odd sights,

But the queerest they ever did see

But the oddest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

Was that night at Lake Lebarge

I cremated Sam McGee.

I burned Sam McGee.

Explanation

Word Dictionary15

Word	In English	Plain (English)	Pron.
moil	work hard	to labor or toil intensely	moyl
marge	edge	the edge or border of something	mahrj
mushing	traveling with sled dogs	traveling over snow with a dog sled	muh-shing
parka	heavy coat	a warm, hooded jacket	par-kuh
whimper	cry softly	to make low, feeble sounds of pain or distress	whim-per
cursèd	cursed	under a curse; afflicted	kur-sed
ghastly	horrible	shockingly frightful or dreadful	gast-lee
brawn	muscle strength	physical strength	brawn
huskies	sled dogs	a breed of dog used for pulling sleds	huh-skeez
derelict	abandoned	a ship or building that is deserted and neglected	der-uh-likt
cre-ma-tor-eum	place for burning bodies	a facility where bodies are cremated	kree-muh-tor-ee-um
sizzle	make a hissing sound	to make a sound like frying	siz-ul
grisly	gruesome	causing horror or disgust	griz-lee
furnace	heater	an enclosed structure for intense heat	fur-nis
cloak	covering	a loose outer garment or covering	klohk

Poet & Context

PoetRobert W. Service

EraEarly 20th century

View on Wikipedia

When1907

FormNarrative poem

Themes & More

Themes

friendshippromisestruggle against naturedark humor

Literary devices