Call me Harry if you will,
Call me Old Harry says he.
Or the abbreviation of Nicolas,
Nick. Old Nick, maybe.
Well, you’re a dark old demon,
And I’m a pale-face like a homeless dog
That has followed the sun from the dawn through the east
Trotting east and east and east till the sun himself went home,
And left me homeless here in the dark at your door.
How do you think we’ll get on,
Old demon, you and I?
You and I, you pale-face,
Pale-face you and I
Don’t get on.
Mightn’t we try?
Where’s your God, you white one?
Where’s your white God?
He fell to dust as the twilight fell,
Was fume as I trod
The last step out of the east.
Then you’re a lost white dog of a pale-face,
And the days now dead....
Touch me carefully, old father,
My beard is red.
Thin red wolf of a pale-face,
Thin red wolf, go home.
I have no home, old father,
That’s why I come.