He winged the blue firmament free,
Repeating, as homeward he flew to his rest,
Tshee-ree-lee—Tshee-ree-lee—Tshee-ree-lee!
EVENING CHANT OF INDIAN CHILDREN
TO THE WATASEE, THE FIRE-FLY.
Fire-fly, fire-fly! bright little thing,
Light me to bed, and my song I will sing.
Give me your light, as you fly o'er my head,
That I may merrily go to my bed.
Give me your light o'er the grass as you creep,