1. In their bonnets of deerskin, who are they that haste? Who the spirits so good, and such viands may taste? Not a stranger among them, but all of thy kin,— Certes none but thy brethren such honor could win. As the mosses and mistletoe cling to the tree, So their hearts, O our sovereign, cling closely to thee. While they see not they face, they are restless and sad, But a smile from thy lips makes them happy and glad.

2. In their bonnets of deerskin, who are they that haste? Who such viands in season and spirits may taste? Not a stranger among them, thy brethren are here; Only they at such banquet with thee could appear. As the mosses and mistletoe grow on the pine, So their hearts, O our sovereign, around thee entwine. While they see not thy face, all is dark and forlorn, But a glance from thine eyes is to them as the morn.

3. In their bonnets of deerskin, adorning each head, Now they quail the clear spirits, and lordly are fed. With thy brothers are kinsmen of every degree; Near or distant, they share the banquet with thee. When the sleet first descends, weatherwise, we well know, Winter soon will be here with its garments of snow. Death and mourning may come in our moments of glee; 'Tis not long, O ye guests, that each other you'll see. O'er your cups now be glad, when the daylight has ceased, And do thou, O our sovereign, rejoice in the feast.