This is the song of the parson's son, as he squats in his shack alone,
On the wild, weird nights, when the Northern Lights shoot up from the frozen zone,
And it's sixty below, and couched in the snow the hungry huskies moan:
...
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Wow! He is a fine storyteller and finer still for being in verse form. Like any good storyteller, he puts us right there inside the story, inside the character, inside the time and place. The ending was foreseeable but sad nonetheless