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The Spell of the Yukon and Other Verses

(Published in the British Comonwealth as Songs of a Sourdough)

by Robert W. Service


Contents

(poem title, and first line) Rare and Antiquarian 234x60

The Land God Forgot
  The lonely sunsets flare forlorn,

The Spell of the Yukon
  I wanted the gold, and I sought it,

The Heart of the Sourdough
  There where the mighty mountains bare their fangs unto the moon,

The Three Voices
  The waves have a story to tell me,

The Law of the Yukon
  This is the law of the Yukon, and ever she makes it plain,

The Parson's Son
  This is the song of the parson's son, as he squats in his shack alone,

The Call of the Wild
  Have you gazed on naked grandeur where there's nothing else to gaze on,

The Lone Trail
  Ye who know the Lone Trail fain would follow it,

The Pines
  We sleep in the sleep of ages, the bleak, barbarian pines,

The Lure of Little Voices
  There's a cry from out the loneliness -- oh, listen, Honey, listen!

The Song of the Wage-Slave
  When the long, long day is over, and the Big Boss gives me my pay,

Grin
  If you're up against a bruiser and you're getting knocked about,

The Shooting of Dan McGrew
  A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute saloon,

The Cremation of Sam McGee
  There are strange things done in the midnight sun,

My Madonna
  I haled me a woman from the street,

Unforgotten
  I know a garden where the lilies gleam,

The Reckoning
  It's fine to have a blow-out in a fancy restaurant,

Quatrains
  One said: Thy life is thine to make or mar,

The Men That Don't Fit In
  There's a race of men that don't fit in,

Music in the Bush
  O'er the dark pines she sees the silver moon,

The Rhyme of the Remittance Man
  There's a four-pronged buck a-swinging in the shadow of my cabin,

The Low-Down White
  This is the pay-day up at the mines, when the bearded brutes come down,

The Little Old Log Cabin
  When a man gets on his uppers in a hard-pan sort of town,

The Younger Son
  If you leave the gloom of London and you seek a glowing land,

The March of the Dead
  The cruel war was over -- oh, the triumph was so sweet,

"Fighting Mac"
  A pistol shot rings round and round the world,

The Woman and the Angel
  An angel was tired of heaven, as he lounged in the golden street,

The Rhyme of the Restless Ones
  We couldn't sit and study for the law,

New Year's Eve
  It's cruel cold on the water-front, silent and dark and drear,

Comfort
  Say! You've struck a heap of trouble,

The Harpy
  There was a woman, and she was wise; woefully wise was she,

Premonition
  'Twas a year ago, and the moon was bright,

The Tramps
  Can you recall, dear comrade, when we tramped God's land together,

L'Envoi
  You who have lived in the land,



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