It is there life glides serenely without conduct that’s unseemly,
In a land where thoughts and feelings overflow.
Quick! Ah, heave the camp kit over!
For the Red Gods call them forth and they must go.
Let them go, go, go, away from home!
On the summit of the world they’re overdue.
Farewell! The trail is clear before you
When the old spring fret comes o’er you,
And the Red Gods mix their medicine once more.