And valleys of Lanai shall lament.
The spear of the chief shall rot in the cave,
And the tapa of the maid is left undone.
The wreaths for his neck, they shall fade,
They shall fade away on the hills.
O Kaaialii, who shall spear the uku?
O Kaala, who shall gather the na-u?
Have ye gone to the shores of Kahiki,
To the land of our father, Wakea?
Will ye feed on the moss of the cave,