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ETHOS - Name the product contest!
- Thread starter Dragonsbeard
- Start date
Cool of the Wild (okay I know that's 4 words but I couldn't help myself)
Fuego Freeze (as in Tierra del Fuego; also a play on words fuego=fire in Spanish)
Peary's Frostbite
Fuego Freeze (as in Tierra del Fuego; also a play on words fuego=fire in Spanish)
Peary's Frostbite
Midnight Sun Cooler
The Cremation of Sam McGee
Robert W. Service - 1874-1957
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
Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee,
where the cotton blooms and blows
Why he left his home in the South to roam
'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold but the land of gold
seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way
that he'd sooner live in Hell.
On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way
over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold
it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze
till sometimes we couldn't see,
It wasn't much fun, but the only one
to whimper was Sam McGee.
And that very night, as we lay packed tight
in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead
were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap", says he
"I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you
won't refuse my last request."
Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no;
then he says with a sort of moan,
"It's the cursed cold, and it's got right hold
till I'm chilled clean through to the bone
Yet 'taint being dead-it's my awful dread
of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair,
you'll cremate my last remains.
A pal's last need is a thing to heed,
so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn
but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day
of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all
that was left of Sam McGee.
There wasn't a breath in that land of death,
and I hurried, horror-driven
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid,
because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say.
"You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you
to cremate these last remains".
Now a promise made is a debt unpaid,
and the trail has its own stern code,
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb
in my heart how I cursed that load!
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight,
while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows--
Oh God, how I loathed the thing!
And every day that quiet clay
seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent
and the grub was getting low.
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad,
but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing,
and it hearkened with a grin.
Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge,
and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice
it was called the Alice May,
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit,
and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here", said I, with a sudden cry, "is my
cre-ma-tor-eum"!
Some planks I tore from the cabin floor
and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around,
and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared
such a blaze you seldom see,
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal,
and I stuffed in Sam McGee.
Then I made a hike, for I didn't like
to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled,
and the wind began to blow,
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled
down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak
went streaking down the sky.
I do not know how long in the snow
I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about
ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said,
"I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked".
Then the door I opened wide.
And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm,
in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile,
and he said, "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear
you'll let in the cold and storm--
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee,
it's the first time I've been warm".
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.
This poem is in the public domain.
The Cremation of Sam McGee
Robert W. Service - 1874-1957
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
Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee,
where the cotton blooms and blows
Why he left his home in the South to roam
'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold but the land of gold
seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way
that he'd sooner live in Hell.
On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way
over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold
it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze
till sometimes we couldn't see,
It wasn't much fun, but the only one
to whimper was Sam McGee.
And that very night, as we lay packed tight
in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead
were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap", says he
"I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you
won't refuse my last request."
Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no;
then he says with a sort of moan,
"It's the cursed cold, and it's got right hold
till I'm chilled clean through to the bone
Yet 'taint being dead-it's my awful dread
of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair,
you'll cremate my last remains.
A pal's last need is a thing to heed,
so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn
but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day
of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all
that was left of Sam McGee.
There wasn't a breath in that land of death,
and I hurried, horror-driven
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid,
because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say.
"You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you
to cremate these last remains".
Now a promise made is a debt unpaid,
and the trail has its own stern code,
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb
in my heart how I cursed that load!
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight,
while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows--
Oh God, how I loathed the thing!
And every day that quiet clay
seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent
and the grub was getting low.
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad,
but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing,
and it hearkened with a grin.
Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge,
and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice
it was called the Alice May,
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit,
and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here", said I, with a sudden cry, "is my
cre-ma-tor-eum"!
Some planks I tore from the cabin floor
and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around,
and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared
such a blaze you seldom see,
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal,
and I stuffed in Sam McGee.
Then I made a hike, for I didn't like
to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled,
and the wind began to blow,
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled
down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak
went streaking down the sky.
I do not know how long in the snow
I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about
ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said,
"I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked".
Then the door I opened wide.
And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm,
in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile,
and he said, "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear
you'll let in the cold and storm--
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee,
it's the first time I've been warm".
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.
This poem is in the public domain.
@Southsider
Excellent read and I'm glad you put it in this thread. Nice product name pick as well! There was also one within the verus that caught my eye as well.
Excellent read and I'm glad you put it in this thread. Nice product name pick as well! There was also one within the verus that caught my eye as well.
One of my favorite poems. You can visit Robert Service's home in Dawson City in the Yukon. It is preserved just as he left it in the heart of the Klondike. It is about half a block from Jack London's relocated cabin-actually half of it with the other half being in Oakland, California.@Southsider
Excellent read and I'm glad you put it in this thread. Nice product name pick as well! There was also one within the verus that caught my eye as well.
That brings back memories. We had the choice of memorizing part of either The Cremation of Sam McGee or The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes in the 6th grade. Weird how some things stay with you.
Vostok is already a product name from another artisan. Granted that artisan is no longer in business, but it was well known and many people would associate that name with the other company.
Absolute Zero is a great name!
Aaron
0
Awesome! A third pick!
Posts #24, 25
Moraine
wind chill
And my third pick: Baikal
Lake Baikal, the world's deepest lake, is located in Siberia. It is so deep that despite being much smaller, it contains more water than all five Great Lakes combined. And it has some amazing ice. I could go on and on but I'll just leave a picture.
Posts #24, 25
Moraine
wind chill
And my third pick: Baikal
Lake Baikal, the world's deepest lake, is located in Siberia. It is so deep that despite being much smaller, it contains more water than all five Great Lakes combined. And it has some amazing ice. I could go on and on but I'll just leave a picture.
i did not realize that, thanks.
Witches T**
That's purrty cold. The bottle dropper is kind of a visual too.
That's purrty cold.
The bottle dropper is kind of a visual too.So I am going to edit my choices and include tag lines:
Midnight Sun/Eclipse It just got colder.
Peary's Frostbite A part of the very limited edition lost toes line.
Cool of the Wild It's what Jack London would use.
posts 44 and 46
Midnight Sun/Eclipse It just got colder.
Peary's Frostbite A part of the very limited edition lost toes line.
Cool of the Wild It's what Jack London would use.
posts 44 and 46
Last edited:
I was gonna put down absolute zero yesterday when I first saw the thread....
There's always ...Jack Frost and Killer Frost like the character from The Flash....
I know we only get 2 but there is also Cryogenic and alternately it can be spelled.. Kryogenic or Kryogenik or Kryogenix....
There's always ...Jack Frost and Killer Frost like the character from The Flash....
I know we only get 2 but there is also Cryogenic and alternately it can be spelled.. Kryogenic or Kryogenik or Kryogenix....
Also..The coldest known place in the universe is the Boomerang Nebula, where the temperature is -272° Celsius. Absolute zero is zero degrees Kelvin, equal to -273.15 degrees Celsius and -459.67 degrees Fahrenheit...It is written as 0 K. As long ago as the 17th century, the French physicist Guillaume Amontons noted the existence of absolute zero.
Permafrost
Viserion breath
Jotunheim mist
Viserion breath
Jotunheim mist
Dave in KY
Shave Newbie
sumur óvinur = Summers Enemy in Icelandic 