Misty and dim, a bush in the wilds of Kapa’a,
The paddlers bend to their work, as the flower-laden
Shrub inclines to the earth in Maile-húna;
They sway like reeds in the breeze to crack their bones
Such the sight as I look at this tossing grove,
The rhythmic dip and swing on to Wailua.
My call to the witch shall fly with the breeze,
Shall be heard at Pua-ke’i, e-he, e-he!
The flower-stalk Laukóna beguiles man to love,
Can bring back the taste of joys once our own,