They have sworn an oath to keep it on the brink of Mitsiadazi
For the Red Gods call them out and they must go.
Let them go, go, go, away from home!
On the summit of the world they’re overdue.
Be off! The trail is clear before you
When the old spring fret comes o’er you,
And the Red Gods make their medicine again.
“So it’s onward ponies, sally, this is not the place to dally!”
For the young men’s thoughts are turning to a camp of special yearning,
Hidden in a hanging valley.