It was just past dawn in a blizzard, son,
When we rounded Gandy Head.
We'd lost one thumb, six packs and food,
And four of the dogs were dead.
There was none who'd dodged the frostbite,
And none who cared to stay
Around the hard and frozen ground
Sixty short of the next of Kay.

We doubled them up on the one good sled
Fer t'other been lost in a split
One man had a leg been broken off
As he leapt away from it.
And Stilly, half-blind from the tearing snows
Broke trail in her dog-cart gay.
And the rest of limped and shuffled behind
Doomed to drive to the next of Kay.