Proudly with his spoil returning,
We with shouts the victor greet;
By the camp-fire brightly burning,
He shall have the warmest seat.
Is he hungry? Pile the platter;
Thirsty? Join the gay carouse;
Weary with his toil? What matter?
Heap his bed with balsam boughs.
Fill his pipe with rare Virginian,
Cheer him till the echoes ring,