The Song of Hiawatha

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

And the birds sang round him, o’er him,

“Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!”

Sang the robin, the Opechee,

Sang the bluebird, the Owaissa,

“Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!”

Up the oak-tree, close beside him,

Sprang the squirrel, Adjidaumo,

In and out among the branches,

Coughed and chattered from the oak-tree,

Laughed, and said between his laughing,