The ballad of Pagoda Sam.
by Benz Dr.
Pagoda Sam was a southen man,
he thirsted for adventure as anyone can.
And he heard the story as it was told
of heady treasure and mounds of gold.
The locals said it was hard to find,
But Sam was a man with a one track mind.
He bought a Pagoda and set sail for riches
to the mdnight sun and those sons o' ****es,
who swore no man could last a season,
nor save his mind or keep his reason,
and carry on from dusk 'till dawn,
in the midnight sun of the wild Yukon.
The road was long but it took even longer
and the Pagoda purred 'cause it was stronger
than other heaps that broke on the road,
with all their gear and over load,
from men who cared little, or not,
for their steeds of steel or what they bought.
Pagoda Sam smiled his chessire grin
then wiped his nose and rubbed his chin.
'' It's mighty cold in the midnight sun
but I know I'm better than anyone,
who thinks me weak; without a spine,
I'll show 'em all, one at a time!''
But the winter snow came early that year,
and Sam was caught in a blizzard's fear,
for all had said no southern man
would last a day without need of a hand
that never came, and never will
help the helpless, in winter's chill.
They found his body still behind the wheel,
his hand on the shifter, froze cold as steel.
While men did shiver and ladies swoon,
they carried his body by the light of the moon,
down to the tavern for a proper wake
and they towed his Pagoda to the edge of the lake.
They set him up in his favourite chair
and let him melt for three days there.
The town folk came to pay respect
and drank a drink most circumspect,
that Pagoda Sam might thaw out well
and walk again, or burn in hell!
In three days time he began to twitch,
and scratched a place that had an itch.
The townsfolk swore, as only miners can,
that Pagoda Sam was one hell of a man.
To weather it all, but never stray
from a righteous end; or a miner's pay.
But some had designs on Sam's Pagoda,
they cared not for Sam, nay, not one iota.
'' He's dead! '' they cried.'' Let us have his car.
For dead men sleep in the land afar,
they have no need for earthly things
or the happy pleasures that a Pagoda brings. ''
So they carried him down to the saw mill race
and pickled him well in octain's embrace.
Who lit the match none did know
but all stood by to watch the show
as Sam stood up and danced about
in the fires of hell with a devlish shout!
'' Hands off my Pagoda! You heathen scum! ''
Sam shrieked and howed like demon rum.
'' I'm drive'n her home as soon as I thaw,
let no man touch her with his greasy paw.
I'll fire her up if she's cold as ice
'cause I've got dibs on her warm runnin' device.''
And he jumped from the fire of the saw mill race
to his lovely Pagoda who had a place,
in the minds and hearts of all who know
that a cars' a car; but this one's the beau,
of a man who's stout, and brave and cool,
a Pagoda lover can't be no fool.
And the southern man in his Pagoda,
drove all night long just to buy a soda.
That froze at once in his cold embrace;
'' My god, but I hate that place!
Of ice, and snow, and frigid nights,
at 50 below in the Northern Lights. ''
So listen well, oh brave men true,
an icy grave waits for fools like you,
that venture north to the midnight sun,
where the cold wind howls as the grey wolves run.
And none will care, nay, not one iota,
for life or limb, except your Pagoda.
