He’ll become but a houseless ghost;
The maggots shall batten like gods.
Waihe’e crouches in the cold blast
Of the raging Kili-o’opu.
This atom soul I plucked from the grave,
From a fastness desolate now:
The spirit flits from Ole-pau,
Goes down the steep to destruction,
To the somber caverns of Milu.
With this she dashed the captive soul against the rock, and that was the end of Ka-ula-hea.