Page:Wee wee songs for our little pets.djvu/144

 At the forest's verge, did the planter urge, His service to have paid, But the savage bold refused his gold, And thus to the white man said:

"I came of late to the white man's gate, And weary and faint was I, Yet neither meat, nor water sweet,  Did the Indian's wants supply.

"Again should he come to the white man's home My service let him pay, Nor say, again to the fainting man,  You 'Indian dog, away!'"

THE INDIAN AND THE BASKET.

Among Rhode Island's early sons, Was one whose orchards fair, By plenteous and well-flavored fruit, Rewarded all his care.

For household use they stored the best, And all the rest conveyed To neighboring mill, were ground and press'd,   And into cider made.