By the shore of Mother Tamar,
Scratching hard his Salty Ass,
At the doorway of his wigwam,
In the cold seven of morn
Les stood watching as he waited.
The air was F in freezing
All his tribe, fast asleep
When before him, through the mist
Walked He who plucks the Eagle tail feathers
With his faithful squaw Clicky Two Sticks
Bright above them shone the heavens
On the wagon made their way
At Cotehele the mist embroiled
Level lay the water before them
From its bosom leaped the salmon
Sparkling, flashing in the morn
On its margin the great forest
Shrouded in a watery mist
Stood proud and marked our passage.
On the brow of Clicky Two Sticks
Sat a trace of fear and sorrow,
Sat within the centre of the great canoe
As we pushed off on the water,
With a smile of joy and triumph,
With a look of exultation,
Upon a journey we were off.
Homeward bent our backs
Both hands upon our paddles
Still the morn clad in its shroud
Onward we did paddle
Onward to unwelcome landing
Here we rested and took thirst
But the man cried out or a tenner
Into the fast flowing waters we sailed
Passing ghostly craft moored nearby
Soon the sun grew also weary
Was the day so soon away
The birds grew silent
Soon they landed all grew dark
Then as fire mother Sun fought back
The light from our eyes we shielded
Onward home to our lodge we glided
Up around the bend we saw
Many wickiups and soon a squaw
Was our landing and homecoming
The cygnet seven all down lined up
Soon arrived at the fireplace
A bacon sarnie tea and coffee
Once again our journeys ended
Safe returned to lodge and love ones
We gave praise and thanks
Mighty Les had brought us safe home.
