Well, on this particular morning they were making a great noise and having a grand dance, and this was the way of it: They would gather in one vast flock, somewhat orderly in its disposition, on the sloping face of Gorge Mountain,—the older birds in front, the younger ones behind,-and down the slope, chirping and fluttering, they would hop, hop, hop, singing:
“Ketchu, Ketchu, oñtilã, oñtilã,
Ketchu, Ketchu, oñtilã, oñtilã!
Âshokta a yá-à-laa Ke-e-tchu,
Oñtilã,
Oñtilã!”—
Blackbirds, Blackbirds, dance away, O, dance away, O!
Blackbirds, Blackbirds, dance away, O, dance away, O!
Down the Mountain of the Gorges, Blackbirds,
Dance away, O!