THE HELL OF THE YUKON
With apologies to Robert Service.
By D. A. Noonan.
The devil in hell we are told was chained
Thousands of years he there remained.
He did not complain, not did he groan,
But determined to have a hell of his own
Where he could torment the souls of men
Without being chained in a sulphur pen.
So he asked the Lord if he had any land
In a cooler clime that a poor devil could
stand.
The Lord said,“Yes, but it’s not of much
use,
It’s a place called Alaska, as cold as the
deuce.
In fact, old boy, the country’s so bare
That I don’t think you can make a good
hell up there.”
But the devil said he couldn’t see why,
He sure knew his business and would
like to try.
So a bargain was made, a deed was given
And the Lord released the devil from
prison.
We next meet the devil far in the north,
Exploring Alaska to see what it’s worth.
From the top of McKinley he viewed the
truck,
And said, though he got it for nothing,
still he got stuck.
But oh, it was fine to be out in the cold,
And though the wind blew a gale, the
devil grew bold,
And there on the height of the mountain
lie planned
To make of Alaska the home of the
damned.
A place somewhat different from the
old-fashioned hell,
Where each soul burned in a brimstone
cell.
And as he knew all the arts that a wise
devil needed
To make a good hell, you bet he suc
ceeded.
He filled the air with millions of gnats,
Spread the Yukon river over the Flats,
Set a line of volcanoes near Unimak Bass
Bred mosquitoes in Tundra grass,
Made six months’ night when it’s sixty
below
A driving wind and a blinding snow,
Six months’ day, with a spell now and
then
Too hot for the devil, though fresh from
his pen.
He loosed the wolves to ravage the land,
A worthless set and a ruthless band,
That crossed with the dogs makes a sav
age pack,
With a gouhlish howl that sends chills
up your hack.
But of all the pests that the imps could
devise
! The Yukon mosquito is the devil’s prize.
; It has the rattle-snake’s bite, the
scorpion’s sting
And measures ’steen inches from wing to
I wing.
The devil said when he fashioned these,
“.Each one will be worse than a million
fleas.”
And then over mountain and valley and
plain,
Where the dew falls low and there’s
plenty of rain,
lie scattered wild flowers, just for a bluff.
Old Nick sure knew how to peddle his
stuff.
Then to show how well lie knew his
game,
Satan next salted his New Hell Claim.
He put gold nuggets in all the stream-),
To lure men on in foolish dreams;
i lie hid the gold ’neath glacial ice
As a Keformed City hides its vice,
j He bid flame Humor spread the news
To all the world and it’s motley crews,
That here was gold in piles and piles,
All the colors and all the styles.
Then he gi nned a grim sardonic grin,
And said, now watch the fools rush in.
They’ll tight for gold, and steal and slay,
But in the end it’s me they'll pay.”
Oh, aline land this that the devil owns,
It’s trails are marked with good men’s
bones.
As you travel over the barren expanse
The North wind blows big holes in your
pants.
The Northern Lights shine clear and
bright
O’er blood-red snow , though it looks
1 pure white
To men who are crazed by impish tunes
In the frosted air where they see three
moons.
And so the wild winds moan o’er the
bleak chapperal,
’Tis a hell of a place that he has for his
hell.
And now you know should anyone ask
you,
What kind of a land is our Alaska.
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