Where, pretty white one,
Where, pretty white one,
Where do you go?”
“Ho!” said Grandmother. “Have courage! Tell Lynx you are going to your native land.”
Hare went back up the trail. Lynx stood there, so Hare sang,
To the point of land I go,
There is the home of the little white one,
There I go.
Lynx looked at the trembling little hare, and began to sing again,
Little white one, tell me,
Little white one, tell me,
Why are your ears so thin and dry?
“Tshwee! Tshwee! Tshwee! Tshwee!” cried little Hare, and ran back to Grandmother.
“See, Grandmother,” said Hare, “Lynx came down the trail and sang,
Little white one, tell me,
Little white one, tell me,
Why are your ears so thin and dry?”
“Ho!” said Grandmother, “Go and tell him your uncles made them so when they came from the South.”