The Ancient Ones

Swift as the wind,
A deer,
Nothing can touch me for,
I am a nomad,

Goods and wares ,
I sell,
Skins and hide,
I wear,

If I Imitated Invalid,
My soul would surly die,
My vessel would move on,
Following the motions of life,

The prairie allows me to dwell,
In her abundant grasses,
The river leads me down,
The path I must take