I doubt I'll ever be able to forget this poem. My sixth grade reading teacher made the entire class memorize it, and then would call on us in a random order to recite one line at a time. I had to have read the thing a good hundred times, so that I'd never be stuck, no matter where I got called on in the poem's progression.
Every time I think I've managed to forget the poem, it'll pop back in my head.
These days, I use it as one of the longer pieces I've got memorized to recite to the baby as I'm trying to rock her to sleep.
I love the rhyme scheme. It's so much fun to say out loud.
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.