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Indian Romance.
by James McIntyreWe know a hill is smooth and round,
Where Indian relics may be found,
This hill it hath a history,
Though enveloped in mystery.
All the youth do fondly glory
For to read an Indian story,
This hill was ancient camping ground,
In creek near by did trout abound.
And from hill top they caught a gleam
Of the river's broader stream,
They came in their birch bark canoes
Into this place of rendezvous.
When States did Canada invade,
Great Indian host was here arrayed,
Here they rallied from near and far,
In eighteen hundred and twelve war.
Chief big Wolfe led them on to war,
And bade farewell to morning star,
He wedded her one year before,
And her he fondly did adore.
To him she never seemed so sweet,
Her dress had beads worked o'er so neat,
And her toilet to complete,
Grand moccasins upon her feet.
Tribe marches and they boldly fight,
Longside of Brock on Queenstown height,
With glory they do return crowned,
Into the hill so smooth and round.
Here big Wolfe drank much fire water,
And it led to his own slaughter,
His death alas did blast and mar,
And dimmed the light of morning star.