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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."
(The first 8 lines of Robert Service's wonderful poem: The Cremation of Sam McGee)
Photo by Loria on Flickr
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