THE BLUE DUCK[1]
To be readwith a vigorouslilt emphasizingthe drumbeats
Hí! Hi! Hí! Hi!Hí! Hi! Hí! Hi!Heé-ya! Hói-ya!Heé-ya! Hói-ya!Keétch-ie Má-ni-dó, Má-ni-dó,The hunter-moon is chipping,Chipping at his flints,At his dripping bloody flints;He is rising for the hunt,And his face is red with bloodFrom the spears of many spruces,And his blood is on the leavesThat flutter down.The Winter-Maker, White Bee-bóan,Is walking in the sky,And his windy blanketRustles in the trees.He is blazing out the trailThrough the fields of nodding riceFor the swift and whistling wingsOf his She-shé-be,For the worn and weary wings
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