Benny Hill At A Campfire?

[Eamonn 61]

For a very long time I have used the Cremation of Sam McGee as my thing at camp fires.

For those who don't know it:

 

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

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.

 

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

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

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

Though hed often say in his homely way that hed sooner live in hell.

 

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

Talk of your cold! through the parkas fold it stabbed like a driven nail.

If our eyes wed close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldnt see;

It wasnt 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 oerhead were dancing heel and toe,

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

And if I do, Im asking that you wont refuse my last request.

 

Well, he seemed so low that I couldnt say no; then he says with a sort of moan:

Its the cursed cold, and its got right hold till Im chilled clean through to the bone.

Yet taint being dead--its my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;

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

 

A pals 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 wasnt a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,

With a corpse half hid that I couldnt 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 its 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 snowsO 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 Id 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 roaredsuch 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 didnt 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 dont 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: Ill just take a peep inside.

I guess hes cooked, and its 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 he said: Please close that door.

Its fine in here, but I greatly fear youll let in the cold and storm

Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, its the first time Ive been warm.

 

 

 

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

 

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.

As I say I have been doing this for a very long time.

Some years back Benny Hill had a #1 hit in the UK with Ernie.

While the lyrics might not be suitable for Cub Scouts, I'm a little unsure if it would be acceptable for Boy Scouts?

Please let me know your thoughts. I still have that Brit humor.

Ernie by Benny Hill.

You could hear the hoof beats pound as they raced across the ground,

And the clatter of the wheels as they spun 'round and 'round.

And he galloped into market street, his badge upon his chest,

His name was Ernie, and he drove the fastest milk cart in the west.

 

Now Ernie loved a widow, a lady known as Sue,

She lived all alone in Liddley Lane at number 22.

They said she was too good for him, she was haughty, proud and chic,

But Ernie got his cocoa there three times every week.

 

They called him Ernie, (Ernie), and he drove the fastest milk cart in the west.

 

She said she'd like to bathe in milk, he said, "All right, sweetheart,"

And when he'd finished work one night he loaded up his cart.

He said, "D'you want it pasturized? 'Cause pasturized is best,"

She says, "Ernie, I'll be happy if it comes up to my chest."

 

That tickled old Ernie, (Ernie), and he drove the fastest milk cart in the west.

 

Now Ernie had a rival, an evil-looking man,

Called Two-Ton Ted from Teddington and he drove the baker's van.

He tempted her with his treacle tarts and his tasty wholemeal bread,

And when she seen the size of his hot meat pies it very near turned her head.

 

She nearly swooned at his macaroon and he said, "If you treat me right,

You'll have hot rolls every morning and crumpets every night."

He knew once she sampled his layer cake he'd have his wicked way,

And all Ernie had to offer was a pint of milk a day.

 

Poor Ernie, (Ernie), and he drove the fastest milk cart in the west.

 

One lunch time Ted saw Ernie's horse and cart outside her door,

It drove him mad to find it was still there at half past four.

And as he lept down from his van hot blood through his veins did course,

And he went across to Ernie's cart and didn't half kick his 'orse.

 

Whose name was Trigger, (Trigger), and he pulled the fastest milk cart in the west.

 

Now Ernie rushed out into the street, his gold top in his hand,

He said, "If you wanna marry Susie you'll fight for her like a man."

"Oh why don't we play cards for her?" he sneeringly replied,

"And just to make it interesting we'll have a shilling on the side."

 

Now Ernie dragged him from his van and beneath the blazing sun,

They stood there face to face, and Ted went for his bun.

But Ernie was too quick, things didn't go the way Ted planned,

And a strawberry-flavoured yogurt sent it spinning from his hand.

 

Now Susie ran between them and tried to keep them apart,

As Ernie, he pushed her aside and a rock cake caught him underneath his heart.

And he looked up in pained surprise and the concrete hardened crust,

Of a stale pork pie caught him in the eye and Ernie bit the dust.

 

Poor Ernie, (Ernie), and he drove the fastest milk cart in the west.

 

Ernie was only 52, he didn't wanna die,

And now he's gone to make deliveries in that milk round in the sky.

Where the customers are angels and ferocious dogs are banned,

And the milkman's life is full of fun in that fairy, dairy land.

 

But a woman's needs are many fold and Sue, she married Ted,

But strange things happened on their wedding night as they lay in their bed.

Was that the trees a-rustling? Or the hinges of the gate?

Or Ernie's ghostly gold tops a-rattling in their crate?

 

They won't forget Ernie, (Ernie), and he drove the fastest milk cart in the west.

 

Eamonn.

 

 

 

 

 

[Kahuna 172]

I used to do Sam McGee at campfires all time. Boys loved it and I assume they still do. We once taught our boys Monty Python's "Eric the Half a Bee" as well. They learned it, but they didn't get it.

 

I don't think the Benny Hill bit would be too offensive for Boy Scouts, but I'm not sure they'd get it.