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ci-dessous
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avec
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4
Well you could see it in his eyes_ as they strained against the night_
And the bone-white-knuckled grip_ upon the road_
Sixty- five miles_ into town_ and a winter's_ thirst to drown_
A winter_ still with two months_ left_ to go_
His eyes_ are too far open_ his grin too hard and sore_
His shoulders too far_ high_ to bring rel ief_
But the Kopper_ King is hot_ e_-ven if the band_ is not_
And it sure beats shooting_ whiskey-jacks_ and_ trees_
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Then he laughs_ and says "It didn't get me this time_ not to night_
I wasn't screaming when I_ hit the door"_
But his hands on the table top_ will_ their_ shaking_ never stop_
Those_ hands_ sweep_ the bottles_ to the floor_
Now he's a bear_ in a blood-red mackinaw with hungry dogs at bay_
And springtime thunder in his_ sudden roar_
With one wrong word he burns_ and the table's_ over turned_
When he's_ finished_ there's a dead man on the floor_
Well_ they watched for him in Carmacks_ Haines_ and Carcross_
With Teslin blocked there's nowhere_ else_ to go_
But he_ hit_ the four-wheel- drive in Johnson's Crossing_
Now he's thirty-eight miles up_ the Canol road_
He's thirty-eight miles up_ the Canol road_
In the Salmon Range_ at for_-ty-eight_ below_
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Well_ it's God's own neon green_ above the mountains_ here tonight_
Throwing_ brittle_ coloured_ shadows_ on the snow_
It's four more hours til dawn_ and the gas is almost gone_
And that bitter_ Yukon_ wind_ begins_ to blow__
Now you can see it in his eyes_ as they glitter_ in the light_
And the bone-white rime of frost_ around his brow_
Too late the dawn_ has_ come_ that Yukon_ winter has won_
And he's got his cure_ for cabin_ fever now_
Well they watched_ for him in Carmacks_ Haines_ and Carcross_
With Teslin blocked there's nowhere else_ to go_
But they hit_ the four-wheel- drive in Johnson's Crossing_
Found him thirty-eight miles up_ the Canol road_
They found him thirty-eight miles up_ the Canol road_
In the Salmon Range at for_-ty-eight_ be low_
They found him thirty-eight miles up_ the Canol road_
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