As the welcoming sun shone on cutlass and gun, these words he trilled through the day:
“La Salle! La Salle! O brave La Salle!
You’re a man of France, I know,
La Salle! La Salle! O good La Salle!
You can shoot with the gun and the bow.
La Salle! La Salle! O true La Salle!
I salute your courage and love,
For the lilies of France, may they wave, may they dance, o’er this watery waste from above.”
And the Frenchman raised his eyes on high and sighed as he gazed afar,
Where the buffalo grunted and roared on the plain, and the dun-colored prong-horns are.