[paint_your_wagon]

From ‘The Parson’s Son’ by Robert Service:

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:

...

This was the song of the parson’s son,
as he lay in his bunk alone,
Ere the fire went out and the cold crept in,
and his blue lips ceased to moan,
And the hunger-maddened malamutes
had torn him flesh from bone.

https://www.explorenorth.com/library/service/bl-spell6.htm

[Red Badger]

Watch out where the huskies go and don’t you eat that yellow snow!.............