52
CHIPPEWA MONOLOGUES
And tall black shining hats!
Ye shall walk arrayed
Like yon gorgeous blazing sun
If ye but heed my counsel.
Ye shall walk arrayed
Like yon gorgeous blazing sun
If ye but heed my counsel.
(Ho! Ho! Ho!)
"Go ye North!
Forsake these rolling hills;
This vast, too-vast country.
Forsake these wolf-infested forests,
That Pale-Face tillers of the soil
May lay their Iron-Roads
And scratch the ground for harvests.
Go ye North! to the barren lands,
To the land of the marked-out ground.
And though there be no moose
Within its flame-swept timber,
Nor whitefish in its waters,
Nor patches of wild berries,
Nor fields of nodding rice,
Yet will ye be content
For I will pay ye well;
To every warrior, guns,—
Six beavers' worth;
To every headman, blankets,—
Red as yonder sky;
To every chieftain, ponies,—
Six, more or less.
And there, in the marked-out North,
Your tribe may eat and dance
Forever and forever."
Forsake these rolling hills;
This vast, too-vast country.
Forsake these wolf-infested forests,
That Pale-Face tillers of the soil
May lay their Iron-Roads
And scratch the ground for harvests.
Go ye North! to the barren lands,
To the land of the marked-out ground.
And though there be no moose
Within its flame-swept timber,
Nor whitefish in its waters,
Nor patches of wild berries,
Nor fields of nodding rice,
Yet will ye be content
For I will pay ye well;
To every warrior, guns,—
Six beavers' worth;
To every headman, blankets,—
Red as yonder sky;
To every chieftain, ponies,—
Six, more or less.
And there, in the marked-out North,
Your tribe may eat and dance
Forever and forever."
