Thus the maiden knew no mother,
Knew no love as most maids know,
Heard no song, as sung by mother,
Softly, sweetly, plaintive, slow.
When the twilight came at evening,
And the wigwam fire was lit,
And the bearskin robe was spread out
Upon which they were to sit,
Junaluska wept his Qualla,
Wept the lover who had flown,