RANSVESTIA

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.

But I dreaded much to even touch that tiny seal skin bag That hung so loose on its leather noose like hangman's deadly tag; Though I knew in the end, the corpse would win,

and look in that bag I must

So I closed my eyes and in several trys

I wrenched that bag from his bust.

A note inside on a piece of hide was all that could be found. Its message was terse and writ in verse

and it set my heart to pound:

"Take great pains to dress my remains in the womens' attire I keep Hid in a sack at the back of my pack; then

cremate it all in a heap."

Well, no one knew before he turned blue

that Sam was a transvestite;

And in that sack from the back of his pack

were the clothes to dress just right;

As a dance hall girl on her way to a ball in any mining camp;

A wig, some shoes, a corset and rouge, and a dress to outfit a vamp.

There wasn't a breath in that land of death,

as 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:

"For you there can be no rest,

Cause you promised true, and it's up to you to heed my last request."

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.

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