It is difficult to convey in concise English the sarcastic humour of the original. The words picture this young man as sitting on a hill, near the village where he lived and achieved so many conquests. The warm summer breeze wafted up to him the hum of the people as they talked, blaming him for his actions. "But why blame me?" says the irresistible youth, stretching himself at full length in the sunshine. "It was the gods that made me as I am: blame them, if you will!" And he gave a sigh of satisfaction, "Hi!"
The music carries the story well. The swing of the last six bars suggests his shrug of irresponsibility.
SONG OF THE INDIAN COQUET.
Omaha.
Harmonized by Prof. J.C. Fillmore.
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Ta won gdhon dhe-nun-ye de Un-dhon-ge-a dhon-ke dhe wa-kon-da he-gi-mon-te in-dhin-ga-ye ga-ma hi-a me Hi! |