Page:Wee wee songs for our little pets.djvu/142

THE INDIAN AND THE PLANTER.

By the door of his house a planter stood,
In fair Virginia's clime,
When the setting sun had tinged the wood
With its golden hue sublime.

The lands of this planter were broadly spread,
He lacked not gold or gear,
And his house had plenty of meat and bread
To make them goodly cheer.

An Indian came from the forest deep,
A hunter in weary plight,
Who in humble accents asked to sleep
'Neath the planter's roof that night.

To the Indian's need he took no heed,
But forbade his longer stay;
"Then give me," he said, "but a crust of bread,
And I'll travel on my way."

In wrath the planter this denied,
Forgetting the golden rule;
"Then give me, for mercy's sake," he cried,
"A cup of water cool.

"All day I have travell'd o'er fen and bog,
In chase of the bounding deer;"