A BLOOD-RED ring hung round the moon,
Hung round the moon. Ah me! Ah me!
I heard the piping of the Loon,
A wounded Loon. Ah me!
And yet the eagle feathers rare
I, trembling, wove in my brave's hair.
He left me in the early morn,
The early morn. Ah me! Ah me!
The feathers swayed like stately corn,
So like the corn. Ah me!