We told him all, and he calmly said He’d gladly give them place; And if friends they proved, perchance, extend The calumet of peace. But soon, alas! the dread truth rang That the Pale Face was our foe; For he made our warriors bite the dust⁠— Our children lie so low.

So now, my own, dear, sunny land, Each, woodland and each dell, Once the Indian’s home, now the Indian’s grave, I bid a last farewell. To the “Great Spirit’s” hunting-ground, To meet my long-lost bride, My “Raven Wing” I gladly hie⁠— He said, then calmly died.