The sun sets in night and the stars shun the day,
But glory remains when their light fades away.
Begin ye tormentors your threats are in vain
For the son of Almanac will never complain.

Remember the arrows he shot from his bow
Remember ye chiefs by his hatchet laid low!
Why so slow do ye wait? Till I shrink from my pain?
Know the son of Alnomac will never complain.

Remember the woods where in ambush we lay
The scalps which we bore from your nation away.
Now the flame rises high! you exult in my pain
But the son of Almanac will never complain.

I go to the land where my father is gone
His ghost will rejoice in the fame of his son
Death comes like a friend to relieve me from pain
And thy son O Alnomac has scorn'd to complain.