The Malamute Poem Rhyme Scheme

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When the stars from the skies have fallen	A
And the smoke of the world's cleared away	B
When Saint Peter marks in Life's Book	C
And we meet there on Judgment Day	B
When our trials and troubles are ended	D
And we're wise to the best and the worst	E
When the time has arrived that the wise ones	F
Have told us the last shall be first	E
	-
When the men who've made good are rewarded	G
And the losers are turned loose in Hell	H
That's the time that a lot will be learning	I
The true reason and cause that they fell	H
And I wonder when Peter gets busy	J
As he works out the tenement plan	K
And when Heaven's thrown free for location	A
Will he confine the locations to man	K
	-
If he does my claim's open for jumping	I
For I can't figure Heaven complete	L
If the dim distant trails of the sky land	M
Are not pattered by malamutes' feet	L
Cause I know it would never seem home like	N
No matter how golden the strand	M
If I lose out that pal loving feeling	I
Of a malamute's nose in my hand	M
	-
And it's that way with lots of Alaskans	F
These men of our own last frontier	O
Who tear into nature unaided	G
And who scarce know the meaning of fear	O
Who live on lone creeks all alone here	P
Where the living and dying are hard	Q
And where oft times their only companion	A
Is a malamute pup for a pard	Q
	-
He's a real chum with things coming easy	J
He's a pal with things breaking tough	R
He's a hell roaring fighting companion	A
When somebody starts something rough	R
He's a true friend in sorrow and sickness	S
And he doesn't mind hunger or cold	Q
And he's really the only one pardner	P
You can trust when you uncover gold	Q
	-
He's a guard you can trust at the sluice box	T
And he'll watch by your cache thru the night	Q
And if some cheechako tries to molest it	Q
That cheechako's in for a fight	Q
As a pardner he's silent but cheerful	U
With never a kick 'bout the trails	V
And if it wasn't for him in the winter	P
There never would be any mails	V
	-
He pulls on our sleds in the winter	P
He's first in the rushing stampede	Q
He goes where a horse couldn't travel	U
And besides that he rustles his feed	Q
He takes a pack saddle in summer	P
And follows us off thru the hills	W
And when we go short on the grub pile	X
He shares up whatever he kills	W
	-
'Twas a malamute first scaled the Chilkoot	Q
At the time of the great Klondike charge	Y
'Twas a malamute first saw Lake Bennett	Q
And left his footprints at La Barge	Y
They hauled the first mail into Dawson	A
That Land of the Old Timer's dream	Z
And when Wada first drove in from Fairbanks	A2
He was driving a malamute team	Z
	-
They broke the first trail into Bettles	A2
With no guide save the lone Northern Star	P
They freighted next year to Kantishna	A
And from there to the famed Chandelar	P
They know the long trail to Innoko	I
Tacotna and Iditarod too	Q
For there's never a Camp in the Northland	Q
But what these same malamutes knew	Q
	-
They brought the first sport to the Nome Beach	B2
Where they showed up in action and deed	Q
That the North dog is game as they make them	C2
And besides that has plenty of speed	Q
He came home with the bacon from Candle	U
Like a bat out of Hell thru the snow	A
And the plunger that cashed in his out tab	D2
Was his pardner the Old Sourdough	Q
	-
So it seems to me kind of unfair now	A
As we drift toward that permanent Camp	E2
Where the angels are running a dance hall	F2
And a millionaire grades with a tramp	E2
Where the trails are located on pay dirt	Q
And a grub stake can never expire	P
Well if they shut out my dog they can keep it	Q
And I'll siwash it down by Hell's Fire	P
	-
They herald the growth of the Northland	Q
And progress is marked by their trail	G2
A railroad now goes where they brought out	Q
The Seward Iditarod mail	G2
He's first in the growth of Alaska	I
And without him this land would be lost	Q
For there's never a stream in this country	P
That the malamutes' trail has not crossed	Q
	-
But you can't tell me God would have Heaven	A
So a man couldn't mix with his friends	A2
That we're doomed to meet disappointment	Q
When we come to the place the trail ends	A2
That would be a low grade sort of Heaven	A
And I'd never regret a damned sin	A
If I mush up to the gates white and pearly	P
And they don't let my malamute in	A

Pat O'cotter

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