So said a black-eyed Ottawa girl,
In silvery accents low.
“Off, off with the bark canoe, my boy,
And tarry till I come back—”
“No, sister,” said the red-neck’d boy,
“The panther will smell my track.
Our boat upon the deep shall rock,
And in it the paddles three;
My little grey dog my bow shall watch,
But I will keep with thee.”