[Continued from Page 72]
Oh, we are the Innuit people,
And we lie secure and warm
Where the ghostly folkof the Munatak
Can never do us harm.
Under the well stretched walrus hide,
Where at the evening meal,
The well-filled bowl fills every soul
With its heap of steaming seal.
The Awful Folk on the Numatak
Come down in the hail and snow
And slash the slain of the Kayak thin
And work the hunter woe.
They steal the fish from the next day's dish
And not the walrus lives
But they fade away with the dawning day
As the light of summer shines.
Oh we are the Innuit people
of the long bright arctic day ;
When the whalers some & the poppies bloom
And the ice floe shrinks away,
Afar in the buoyant umiak
We feather our paddle-blades,
And laugh in the light of the sunshine bright
Where the white-man's schooner trades.
Oh we are the Innuit people;
Rosy and brown and gay ;
And we shout as we sing at the wrestling ring
Or toss the ball at play.
In frolic chase we oft embrace
The waist of a giggling maid
Who runs on the sand of the Arctic strand
Where the ice-bear's loves are laid.
Oh, we are the Innuit people
Conent in our northern home ;
As the Kayak's prow cuts the curling brow
Of the breaker's snowy foam :
The Merry Innuit people
Of the cold gray Arctic sea,
Where the breading whale and Auroras pale
And the snow-white foxes be.
Port Clarence, Alaska, July 12, 99.    W.M.H. Dall