'I strip this coat off here
Of a British Brigadier
It is a costly garment with gold lace grand and brave,
The Shawnee chief is best,
In shirt of deerskin drest,
Not in pale-face gift they'll find me who lay me in the grave.
"I have lost all but life
To meet in mortal strife,
To kill many, that the white squaws weep as ours have done,
To lie among the dead,
With garments bloody red,
And go to happy hunting grounds beyond the setting sun.
'This will be, Wyandot brave,
You'll give to me a grave,
In dimness of the forest, in earth my mother's breast,
Each tall tree a sentinel,
Will guard the secret well
Of where you laid Tecumthe down to his lasting rest'
After the fatal fight
The strife became a flight
They found the chief Tecumthe lying still among the slain
Never to fight again.
Ah! little recked he then
That dastard white men outraged his body to their shame.
After the headlong flight,
In the dark dead of night,
They came, from further outrage his loved remains to save
Within the forest deep
They laid him down to sleep;
And the forest guards the secret! no man knows his grave.
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