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

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

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

A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore [I would not fail]; 
And we started on [at the streak (of dawn)]; but God! he looked ghastly pale. 
He crouched [on the sleigh], and he raved all day [of his home (in Tennessee)]; 
And [before nightfall] a corpse was all (that was left [of Sam McGee]).

There wasn't a breath [in that land (of death)], and I hurried, horror-driven, 
[With a corpse half hid (that I couldn't get rid, [because of a promise given])]; 
It was lashed [to the sleigh], and it seemed to say: "[You may tax your brawn and brains, 
But you promised true, and it's {up to you} (to cremate those last remains)]."

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

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

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

Some planks I tore [from the cabin floor], and I lit the boiler fire; 
Some coal I found (that was lying around), and I heaped the fuel higher; 
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared — such a blaze you seldom see; 
And I burrowed a hole [in the glowing coal], and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

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

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

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