Botany

Member since: Tue Nov 30, 2004, 03:49 PM
Number of posts: 36,161

There are strange things done 'neath 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.