The language of these songs is so highly metaphorical that they are often difficult to understand even in the light of the native explanations, and in some cases the author's informants were themselves uncertain with regard to the meaning. Several songs refer to myths and are explained by them, and there are a few shamans' songs, but by far the larger number were composed for feasts or in song contests between men who were at enmity with each other.
[I have included the first two songs in interlinear format so that the reader can get a taste of the originals.--JBH]
(1) A song about Raven's travels through the world, used at all kinds of dances:
l yAx wudAtSê'n cêyê' l. Hayidê' wugudî'n. Agâ'gucî du luwu'
A big fellow | like | must have been | that raven. | Down underneath | he went. | At that time | his nose
ke wududzîyA'q. Aga' ântû'x yâwagu't du
lu'wuga. Acdjî't dutî
up | they came to pull. | At that time | through the town | he went | for his nose. | To him | it was [given]
ân gânt wudîqî'n. Ayê'x Ansînî' dogodjiyAqayî'. Ân gânt
with it | out of doors | he started to fly. | Like it | he does now to | his (opposite) Wolf phratry. | With it | outside
wudîqî'n. Wâ'sa yû
lcîtîkudaya tc!A nao gadAnA'. Atû'nAx
he flew. | Why | does he not look like himself | but | whisky | ought to drink. | After that
about the whole beach | you can wander.
That Raven must have been a great fellow. He went down under the sea. Then they pulled up his nose. He went through the town for his nose. When it was given to him, he started to fly out of doors. He does so now to his Wolf phratry. He flew out with it. Why! instead of looking like himself, he looks as if he ought to have a drink of whisky. After you have done that you can wander about the entire beach.
(2) A song about Qakê'q!utê. (See story 104, p. 330.)
Ê'gê yêq gû'dayu doxô'nq!î qotx cû'waxîx ayu' Le
The beach | down to | when he came | his friends | were all destroyed | so | then | [no] person | thus
LAq!A'sgî-q!a tcîgede'ayu aosîtî'n. " Li l î latî'nq!êq
he saw. |
LAq!A'sgî point | just inside of | he saw. | "Never | you let me watch
yutê'q! sâ'nî, îî'x unA'x lîq!â'cA."
the stones | little, | from me | lest it bewitch."
When he came down to the beach, his friends were all destroyed, so that he saw no one. He saw something just inside Of
"Do not let me watch the little stones or I might get bewitched."
(3) A second song of Qakê'q!utê composed when he caught a frog instead of a ground hog. (See story 104, p. 330.)
That frog might have turned itself into a ground hog, or it might have dug a hole under my trap.
(4) This was sung by KAka' after he had been brought up from the south by the land otters (stories 5 and 31). The words below were at the end of the two parts, and when they were uttered he drifted out to sea or ashore, as the case might be.
Seaward let me drift.
Shoreward let me drift.
(5) Song composed by Qâq!Atcgû'k after his dream on the island. (Stories 67 and 101.)
The man, who thought he had perished, dreams thus about himself. I keep feeling as if I had gotten home.
(6) Composed about the GânAxte'dî woman (GânA'xta-ca) who reared the woodworm. (See pp. 151-152.)
Already I am going, I am going to die. I have dreamed of my son.
(7) A spirit song composed by a shaman called LûswA't belonging to the Kâ'gwAntân.
Not having any place to come up through (i. e., shaman to speak through), I think I will go to Chilkat and come up there.
I will come up through
Lxodê't and cry.
(8) Composed by a man of the T!A'q!dentân named One-whose-quill-is-disliked (T!âwu'kdû
I was dreaming of my spirit under the fireplace.
(9) Composed by one of the T!A'q!dentân named Kâs!enduA'xtc. These spirit songs were also used in dancing.
Throw him into the river that he may float down. Let the Raven people at the mouth of the river drag him up.
(10) A song with Athapascan words which came to a shaman named Cûwusê'n from an Athapascan spirit--words unintelligible to my informants.
(11) This is a ground-hog song sung while the singer holds up its skin in front with both hands. Its cry when jumping into its hole is also imitated.
Wake up that young man and let us go up on the cliff. You always sleep before you hunt. That is why you never kill anything.
(12) After a bear had been killed its head was set up by the fire and people dropped grease into the fire in front of it, at the same time saying "You have come out of the body among us, so you are we."
The fire is burning in front of this young man. This is what the grizzly bear is always heard to say: "Whu, whu, whu," so they always talk to it.
(13) A Kâ'gwAntân cradle song, sung over the child and used also at feasts. The child itself is supposed to be speaking.
I like to creep around the house all the time after my brother's wife. a I thought that he would jump up and I should be very much ashamed. I always tramp about the town [after my brother's wife].
(14) Cradle song for a girl.
If I do not take anything [to the party], I shall be ashamed, I shall be ashamed. Little girls, listen. Little girls, listen.
(15) Cradle song for a boy.
I am certain to marry my brother's wife after he dies. a
(16) A cradle song of unknown authorship. It might be used by anyone.
Let me shoot a small bird for my younger brother. Let me spear a small trout for my sister.
(17) The song with which Raven was nursed. Both phratries use it.
Aha, aha, island snipes. Among them I see lots of raven tracks, the nephews of ravens. Bad-smelling fish, bad-smelling fish, bad-smelling fish. b
(18) Composed by one of the L!enê'dî named Cuk!usâ'yî (Little-lake-up-above), when his people expected others to come with food to give them a feast. His name was probably derived from Auk lake.
It is before my face every day. And when I sleep I always think of you. I long much for you.
Thinking about you Ravens comes to me like a sudden sickness.
(19) Also composed by Cuk!usâ'yî on the same occasion as the preceding.
You make me feel as if I were shaking, thinking about you, L!enê'dî's children.
(20) Composed by Cuk!usâ'yî after they had vainly expected a feast for some time.
I alone am going to die without having seen T!A'q!dentân's children.
I try to make myself well again thinking about GânAxA'dî's children. I keep trying to stop crying about you.
(21) Composed by Kuxê'L! Of the L!enê'dî when they expected people to give them a feast. There is a little bird called people's-thoughts (qâtuwu'), and a person knows when he sees it that a feast is coming.
You Raven always feel happy about this Wolf phratry when your thoughts fly toward him like the bird named people's-thoughts.
I wonder who can get out and save the Ravens that are upset together way out there in the seas.
(22) This is called Big-song (Cî-Lên) and was used by all the Kâ'gwAntân at feasts after a rich man had died. As they sang all turned around in the direction of the sun. It was also sung for the Deer in making peace, when it was ended differently. Originally it is said to
have come from Lucâ'cak!î-ân, where it was composed by Dâtxagu'ttc (named from the action of a man carving a wolf post when he steps some distance away to take a good look at it).
I am now saying just as the man I live after, Dâtxagu'ttc, used to say. This song is from Sand-hill town.
We are the people who feel higher than all others in the world.
(23) A song used at feasts when two of the host's people dance and one of each of the two parties invited sings for them.
I am floating right down in Killer-whale's-dorsal-fin river. I wish you would help me ashore in front of your town, Kâ'gwAntân's children. I might drift away.
(24) Composed by a man called Small-lake-underneath (Hayi-â'k!u) about a drifting log found full of nails, out of which a house was built. It is used when a feast is about to be given for a dead man, and they have their blankets tied up to their waists and carry canes.
I always compare you to a drifting log with iron nails in it. Let my brother float in, in that way. Let him float ashore on a good sandy beach.
I always compare you, my mother, to the sun passing behind the clouds. That is what makes the world dark.
(25) A Kâ'gwAntân song used at a feast when a slave is to be killed.
The words of people are now backing down on me, the words of worthless people.
(26) A potlatch song composed by Man-that-obeys (Q!ayA'x-qô'ste) of the Box-house people.
Why do you want to come out, killer whale? Don't you know what Raven did when he went inside of a whale? And do you think you will satisfy Raven, you killer whale?
He turned this world over with himself. And how can he alone save himself?
(27) Composed by Nawê'ya, a very old man of the Box-house people, just before he died, so that it could be used at feasts.
You must be very good, Kâ'gwAntân's children. Your children have jumped to save you.
I am very glad that you took pity on me, Wuckitâ'n's children. Now I am going up to the ghost world.
(28) Song about the eagle hat, sung at a feast when one is not satisfied with the property he has obtained. The word given below, which is the only one, is said to be Tsimshian.
Xêdzicxâga', Here is the eagle hat.
(29) A similar song about the gonaqAdê't hat. Informant did not know what the words mean, they being in Tsimshian.
luqAna' hao hao. LuqAna, however, is evidently Lô'koala, Kwakiutl name for the winter ceremonial.
(30) This song is used by all the Wolf families, who sing it all together just as they are coming in to a feast.
There is a rich man coming. Keep silent.
When it is ended, they always say, "It is all gone."
(31) Composed in the Tsimshian language and used by the Kâ'gwAntân at a great feast.
lAngî'kcia agî'kcia. The last word is said to mean "stern of canoe."
(32) Song used like the above.
We are also going to be invited to Killisnoo. High-caste people are going to eat.
(33) Composed by a Haida living in Sitka, called Naqâ'
li, or popularly "Haida Charley," and used when four dance together at a feast.
I wonder what will happen to me in the future. The people at the head of the Raven's river have started for the Wolf phratry's town.
I have no hard feelings against the Raven phratry and I said nothing to GânAxte'dî's children. Come here and I will shake your hands.
(34) Song composed by Naqâ'
li (Haida Charley) for four when they are dancing at a feast.
Don't be double-minded, KîksA'dî's children, or something might happen to you, but have pity on your Raven phratry.
Thinking about my grandfathers' town is just as if I were getting drunk with whisky. There is no Wolf phratry (person) that can set my mind aright.
(35) Composed by Going-across-the-road (DegAhê't!) who belonged to the T!î'kAna tribe of the XAkAnû'kedî. a
I am going to tic it around my neck, Kâ'gwAntân's children, so that when I am asleep I shall know that it is with me.
I wonder if Kâ'gwAntân's children will ever forgive me. My feelings are always troubled.
(36) Composed by Little-lake-up-above (Cuk!usâ'yî) of the L!enê'dî. See songs 18-20, above.
The Wolf phratry's words that they are telling me about must have been very great.
Let us be friendly with each other for the last time, KîksA'dî's children.
(37) Composed by one of the KîksA'dî named Dead Raven (Nâwiyê'
l). There was a second part to this which the writer's informant had forgotten.
I have listened very attentively to your words, Island-people's children.
(88) Composed by one of the Kâ'gwAntân named Be-careful-of-it (Kâ
I will no more throw your faces away, Kâ'gwAntân's children, because you are the ones that make the Wolf phratry valuable.
What do I care about the Raven's town? I like it only when there is a very little [whisky] in me.
(39) Composed by one of the L!ûk!nAxA'dî named Nawutsî'n, probably from the jerking of cohoes when dying.
This Raven did to the Wolf's town just as if he were taking me out of the water. a
Now he is going to use himself as a paddle so that he will be seen around his Wolf phratry's canoe.
(40) Composed by Kâkayê'k of the Kâ'gwAntân.
This Wolf phratry wants to put itself inside of your fort, Wuckitâ'n's children, so that we can sleep. a
The Kâ'gwAntân's children are going to be like Raven. He is going among the people of his Wolf phratry.
(41) Composed by Sâxa' of the Kâ'gwAntân.
I can see the spirits that are going to come to me. They will go under a cloud. They will be my masters who will walk in the Raven town.
(42) Composed by Crying-[wolf] (Gâ'xe) of the Chilkat Kâ'gwAntân.
I wonder what the Eagle has done to him. His Raven phratry always flies around him. They fly around thickly unlike Raven when he made the world.
[The translation of the last paragraph is uncertain.]
(43) This was sung by New-rich (Yîsgânâ'
lx), chief of the Auk people, when he defeated a Yakutat chief in a property contest, as related in story 26.
I am very much ashamed of the chief. He only made a pretense with cedar bark. He made it into copper plates. Will you come back here? Do you think we never have feasts in this town?
(44) Composed by one of the Kâ'gwAntân called Yuwâ'k!u.
Thinking of you, Kâ'gwAntân's children, is just like having spirits come down upon me.
Alas! Kâ'gwAntân's children, why don't you fulfill your promise that you were going to die with me?
(45) Composed by For-a-town spirit (Ân-de-yêk) of the L!enê'dî about the T!A'q!dentân, because when the latter came to Juneau to drink they did not pay any attention to the Auk people.
This is not your grandfather's town. It is my grandfathers place that has made you rich, you poor slaves.
I observe how people are treated after they are dead, and therefore I drink before I die (i. e., enjoy myself).
What you did was very selfish, T!A'q!dentân's children. But I will not blame you for your words. It is this Raven's fault.
(46) Composed by Nîgô't, one of the Taku Yênyê'dî. His name is used also by the Kâ'gwAntân.
You surprise me, you Raven. When you see a person of the Wolf phratry, you want to get way up on a branch.
What do you think I live for? I live to drink whisky. Have pity on me, Foam Te'qoedî's children. a
(47) Composed for and given to Other-water (Gonahî'n) of the Kâ'gwAntân, who lived very long ago. He went to Prince of Wales island to marry a woman named S!ê
ltî'n. When he was ready to start back, his father-in-law laid down a row of copper plates for his daughter to walk down on, and, as she went down, they sang this song and gave it to the Kâ'gwAntân. It is therefore called S!ê ltî'n q!osîye'dî, "S!ê ltî'n's-return-song."
The words are in Tsimshian and are the following:
lgayuwa hêyuwâ' hayA'cgi lnaxa, hayu'wacgî lnAxa.
(48) Composed by Ts!akâ'k!, a DA'qL!ao-ca, about Kû
lts!A'xk of the Kosk!ê'dî.
I am going to die without seeing DAqL!awe'dî's children any more. That is nothing if I lose lots of property.
It is only crying about myself that comes to me in song.
(49) Composed by one of the L!enê'dî about Juneau when gold was first found there.
Do not talk any more, L!enê'dî's children. You are ahead of all the people, in the world.
(50) An "Angry song" composed by Sêxdagwê't! of the L!enê'dî against Little Raven (Yê
lk!), a blind man of Tongass (Tâ'nta qoan), with whom he was angry.
Just as if a man chased him out on the beach because of some one's talking, Little Raven threw himself before my words. I do not feel even a little numb. That fellow, Little Raven, whose words they are always reporting to me, can not see anything.
(51) On the same subject as the above and by the same composer.
Little Raven, I hate what you keep saying, because you are a slave's son and can see nothing. I hate to have you talk to me because you have spots all over your face like a big sea cucumber (?) and look like a slave. Don't you know that, because you can not see anything, you big slave's son, you keep picking up sand instead of dipping into the dish?
(52) Composed about a certain man by Ândeyê'k, one of the L!enê'dî.
The Jamestown a has punished you already, L!enê'dî's children. Put away all of your lying. That is how you get the best of people.
I always like to have you pity me in this Gold creek. I always feel very happy when you pity me in this Gold creek, KîksA'dî's children.
(53) Composed by one of the Box-house people called Sâxa', about another man, Among-the-brant (Qênxo'), one of the KîksA'dî. It was sung at feasts and in making peace.
This is the way this Raven always takes the lives of the Wolf phratry. This Raven has already flown up on the branch with the words of, the Wolf phratry for which the Wolf phratry is asking him.
He thought that it was his friend's words that the Raven was doing this with. That always shakes him (i. e., it was really the words of the Wolf phratry).
(54) Reply of Among-the-brant (Qênxo') to Sâxa'.
I compare myself to a drum beaten to make peace on the way back. They are beating it already in the Raven's town.
(55) Composed by Dead-slave (Gux-nawu') about a woman named Poor-orphan (Kâhântî'k!î), who was a very poor girl, but who, when she grew up, became the richest woman in Wrangell.
I used to make fun of this poor little girl at Wrangell when she was very small.
Where did you get the whisky [that makes you feel so high]? You are never ashamed.
(56) Composed by Kâ
lgî's, a man of the Sitka Kâ'gwAntân, about one of the Nanyaâ'yî named Cugâ'n, before the victory of the Sitka people over those of Wrangell.
You are hurrying to death too fast, Nanyaâ'yî's children. You ought to have seen your Wolf phratry first.
(57) Composed by Kakayê'k, a Kâ'gwAntân, about his brother's wife. His name probably refers to the wolf making a noise that can be heard a long distance off. The woman is represented as if speaking, and anticipating being sent away by the whites for drunkenness.
It is just as if I were beginning to get drunk. This is what you are like, Grass-people's children.
Have pity on me before I am sent away from here, Kâ'gwAntân's children.
(58) Composed by the woman referred to above, in reply. Her name was Toxaocî', and she belonged to the T!A'q!dentân.
What you are saying about me is very hard, Kâ'gwAntân's children. I am very sad.
You (i. e., the man accusing her) have given me one drink of whisky after another. So you ought to have pity on me, Kâ'gwAntân's children.
(59) Composed by a shaman of the Kâ'gwAntân named K!AgA'nk!.
It is only on account of whisky that you pity me. Why don't you also love me, Dê'citân's children?
(60) Composed by Little Raven (Yê
lk!), one of the Prince of Wales Island people (Tâ'nta qoan) about Sêxdagwê't! of the L!enê'dî, who had previously gotten the best of him (see song 50). He speaks sarcastically.
They have already knocked down this Little Raven. This Little Raven is already ashamed.
(61) Composed by Under-a-blanket (Kâguntû'k!) of the WAtâne'dî, part of the KîksA'dî, about the son of a L!ûk!nAxA'dî named Yêsgu'qtc, whose brother had been killed in compensation for the killing of her brother.
His mind is just like Mine, L!ûk!nAxA'dî's children. So that I am beginning to love him.
I wonder what I always look for when I wake up in the morning. Sometime I might see my brothers.
(62) Composed by Man-that-is-not-all-right (Qa-uctê') about Princess Thom (Gadjî'nt), because when she was very young all sorts of young men went to her house, filling it as if it were a saloon. Princess Thom was the own sister of Q!â'dustin. (See p. 347.)
Even from a saloon people get away, but not from you, Raven woman.
(63) Composed by a man named KâtdA' (Around-a-flat-basket, or Around-a-woven-oil-presser), whose wife was taken away from him by her people, who would not let her return.
Like one who desires whisky, I never sleep, Toqye'dî's children.
(64) Composed by Among-the-brant (Qênxo') a of the KîksA'dî, about Sâxa', when his wife had been taken from him, and he felt very sad. The last words are said to be in Tsimshian.
My own mind is very hard to me. It is just as if I were carrying my mind around.
What is the matter with you?
(65) Composed by Sâxa' on the same subject as the song next preceding. A man named K!u
lt!e'-îc, belonging to the Chilkat Kâ'gwAntân, ran away with Sâxa"s wife, but the latter was afterward killed by K!u lt!e'-îc's first wife whom he had abandoned.
You have already seen this Raven going up to the ghost country.
Her Wolf phratry has come out to see her. She has seen her Wolf phratry for death.
(66) A man named Nûs!nî composed this song and immediately afterward stabbed several of his friends.
He was dreaming of Yê'kîtckAcaxwê'q! spirit always smiling around.
(67) Song said to have been sung by Wrangell Indians on the way to Sitka when they felt sure that they were going to be killed.
Floating down from the Stikine, the feelings of this Raven are toward the Bark-house people's children (i. e., he worries about his family).
He thinks about the lives of the Bark-house people's children.
(68) Dorsal-fin-of-killer-whale-seen (Guc-dutî'n), one of the Nanyaâ'yî, almost died when on the way to Victoria, and composed this song about his old friends.
It is not Raven's town I am crying about. It is my own grandfather's town I am crying about. p. 407
Poor Dorsal-fin-of-killer-whale-seen will die before he reaches Victoria.
(69) Although this song is very much older, the words were put in at the time the people of Sitka killed those of Wrangell. Just before they started singing, everyone had to raise his paddle and cheer on account of the scalps. A Nanyaâ'yî killed at that time was named
Will you live at the Stikine any more?
(70) This is sung by all the Kâ'gwAntân when a person's body is being burned, the first part during the burning itself and the second part while the women are dancing around the fire, wearing ear pendants. The first part is called Nodding-of-heads-to-and-fro (Kîtcdacîyî') and the only words used are Tînna' sûwu', "There are lots of coppers," repeated again and again.
My nephew has been led up to a place where people [go who have been] killed. a
His uncles have already made a house for him there.
(71) A man had all of his friends destroyed by a bear, and was the only one left in the fort they were then occupying. There he composed this song. The last words are used because he was going to succeed his uncle.
I compare you, my uncle, to your high-caste friends. A man in the same state as myself is now wandering about this world, crying. At that time a man such as that asked to have the things taken out from his place.
(72) Composed by a Chilkat man named Kaogu' on the instant when he was asked to compose a song about a certain man's mother who had just died.
This Eagle has taken his Raven over to a good sandy beach. It is enough to make one cry, KîksA'dî's children. A Raven, however, always comes to amuse her.
(73) Composed by Other-water (Gonahî'n) over a dead man.
My younger brother has brought me a great joy of laughter. If I knew the way they go, I would go right to him.
(74) Composed by Joined-together (Wûct-wudûtsu') when all of his friends went down the rapids at Gonaxô' and were drowned.
I always look expectantly to see some one stand up in front of the town and in the bay.
I always compare my brothers to the people the Duck tribe saved. They went right down under the earth like those high-caste people.
(75) Composed by Here-is-a-feather (T!aoyâ't!), one of the Kâ'gwAntân, when his brother died. It is used as a mourning and dancing song.
Help me with your believing, Kâ'gwAntân's children. It is as if my grandfathers' house were turning over with me. Where is the person that will save me?
(76) Composed by Man-for-himself (StuwA-qa'), one of the Kâ'gwAntân, about his wife, who was from Kake. It was originally composed in Haida, and the Haida words are said to be the following:
LAqîwê' gîcîndê' hê'
The Tlingit equivalent is given at greater length, as follows:
I love you from my heart, Tsague'dî's children. You are the only one I will die with.
(77) Composed by Pressing-down (KAst!â'k), one of the Tcû'kAn-ca (TcûkAne'dî women). Her brothers were drowned and their bodies were not recovered.
Your point a has beaten me, Kâ'gwAntân's children. But take pity on me.
I wonder what I always look after when I wake up in the morning. Sometime I might see my brothers.
(78) Composed by Kâqâtucû'tc of the Kâ'gwAntân when his father and his uncle died.
The noise of your death, my uncle, will come down through Chilkat river.
The nation's drum has fallen down, my mother. Take the drum out from among the nations so that they can hear my mother.
(79) Composed by a Nanyaâ'yî named KakAsguxo', about KAck!A'Lk! and
Lq!ayâ'k!, referring to the time when they strove to cross the Stikine and were turned to stone. This is a mourning song, therefore a long cane is used when it is sung.
The nation's canoe is drifting ashore with him. My uncle is already dead. I do not expect him any more.
KAck!A'Lk! and his brothers waded out across the Stikine. Their sister looked at them. Then they turned into stone. a
(80) Composed by Man-who-obeys (Q!ayA'x qoste') of the Kâ'gwAntân about his son who was drowned coming down Chilkat river.
This Wolf phratry will go away crying from the Raven town.
Do you think you made the future for this Wolf phratry, you Raven?
(81) Composed by one of the Kâ'gwAntân named CgwAtc, about an uncle who had died.
I always think within myself that there is no place where people do not die.
I do not know where my uncle is. Probably the spirits threw down my uncle into the spirits' cave around this world.
(82) Mourning song composed by SAkwê't!, a woman of the L!enê'dî (L!enê'dî-ca), about her brother who was drowned.
I am like the people who were killed by the south wind
(83) Mourning song composed by SAkwê't! about her drowned brother.
I wish I were like that woman who was helped by TAxgwA's. If I were like the woman that he helped, I should rebuild my uncle's house.
Perhaps my brother went into the sun's trail so that I can never see him again.
(84) T!aoyâ'dînîk, chief of the Kâ'gwAntân, dreamed this song about the wolf post:
I will put back my uncles. I will go into the sun-world's houses.
(85) A song without words, sung by spirits when food is sent to them through the fire.
(86) Composed since the missionaries came, by a man named Deer-woman (CawA't-qôwakâ'n), at a time when the people were hunting sea otter.
Almighty God, have pity on me so that I can reach my town.
(87) A peace song composed by a Chilkat man named Kî'ngu (perhaps Qê'nxo) after there had been war between his people and the Wuckitâ'n, and the latter were coming up there to a peace feast.
Why do you talk so, Wuckitâ'n's children? You are going to see Chilkat. A person can not make anyone like Wuckitâ'n's children. They have been valued from long ago.
(88) This is sung when peace is being made after a great war. With a change in the name of the clan mentioned it could be used by anyone.
If you had died, Kâ'gwAntân's children, I would have cut off my hair for you. I love, you so much that I would have blackened my face for you, Kâ'gwAntân's children.
(89) The singer of this is a Hummingbird Deer (DAwA'tgîya qô'wakân), so called because he performs like a hummingbird. Just before he started this song, the persons who had charge of him turned around four times with him in the direction the sun takes.
My masters, my opposite phratry, I am going to speak thus. My masters joined in with me.
I am feeling very lonely away. I am going to my uncles' town. I am singing inside, my masters. I am crying about myself.
(90) A deer song supposed to have been used by the land otters when they were making peace and afterward by men also.
Raven married a woman of the land-otter people. At that time Raven became a messenger. The land-otter people began to take one another up as deer.
Here is a drum. This (i. e., the drum) is a big lobster. This drum is very noisy. Then Raven beat it very hard. "This drum is very noisy." Then he knocked a hole through it. It was to do this to the drum that he came among those people.
(91) This is called a "half song," and was composed by a man named Sâxa', about a deer.
He has now gone in among them. His Raven phratry will save him.
(92) Composed by Naotsî'n when peace was made between the L!ûk!nAxA'dî and the Kâ'gwAntân.
Paddle ahead that Raven's canoe very fast. A sheltered place for the Raven's canoe is not very far from here.
He is very much afraid of seeing the Wolf's home.
(93) Composed by Going-across-the-road (Degâhê't), a rich man who was paid to compose it, one time when the Kâ'gwAntân and the Wuckitâ'n made peace.
Raven is coming by canoe to the Wolf's town.
All shout "Hurrah!" Wuckitâ'n's children. Shout well for the canoe.
(94) This was composed by a L!ûk!nAxA'dî man named
Lqena' when he was the only one of his people saved and his enemies wanted to make peace with him. He danced as a deer, singing this song, and at the end of it cut in two the man standing next to him. When used as a deer song in later times, the last words were of course different.
I did this way regarding myself. I would not let what my conscience said to me, pass.
Before his death I saw his ghost.
At once he stabbed and killed CâdAsî'ktc.
(95) A peace song composed by a Kâ'gwAntân man of Chilkat named NâL!î'c.
I am going to nod my head toward you, Kâ'gwAntân's children.
Don't talk like that. Good-by [Lâ'xayî] a with your words, you Raven.
(96) Composed by one of the Kâ'gwAntân named Kêt
lcî'k!ê, and used in making peace and at feasts. When the dancers have reached the door, some one says, "Where is the man?" and they reply, "Up in the woods," because the man who is to start the song hides himself just before it begins.
Do not look after your Wolf phratry any more, you Raven, It has already gone into the woods, you Raven.
(97) b Composed by Qâ'uctê, a Kâ'gwAntân man, about men who never keep their word--those who talk much after they have been drinking and later do not remember what they have said. The Te'qoedî are referred to because he married a woman of that family, and they always came to him when they got drunk.
After you have been drinking you better stop talking about how well you were brought up, Te'qoedî's children. What one of you thinks about it when he is sober?
(98) Song composed by a man who had been brought up in court before Judge Tuttle.
Never mind about this, Judge. You are not a child of the KîksA'dî that people should be afraid of you.
(99) A love song originally obtained from a Tägish woman.
Why have I come to you to Dyea from far inland only to find that you have gone away to another town [on a steamer]? Here I am, crying for you.
(100) A very modern love song.
I don't care about anything since even my dear boy, my dear Tommy, has gone from me.
(101) A love song composed by a dancer named Sîq!oê't, who belonged to the Raven phratry. His sweetheart was away when the 4th of July came.
I wonder what this coming July morning will be like. My mind is very weak thinking that I shall be unable to see my aunts (i. e., my sweetheart). a
(102) Composed by a man named Raven-skin (Yê
l-dûgu') when his sweetheart abandoned him.
If one had control of death, it would be very easy to die with a Wolf woman. It would be very pleasant.
(103) A mourning song belonging to the Kâ'gwAntân.
It is his own fault that this Wolf man got into that condition (i. e., died). Do not lay the blame on anybody else.
393:a When a man died and was succeeded by his brother, the latter married the widow.
393:b Because ravens lived on them.
397:a See story 104. Otherwise neither of these is mentioned elsewhere.
399:a Complimentary metaphorical terms used toward the opposite phratry.
401:a Evidently the Te'qoedî living at Foam from which the Xêl qoan, or Foam people, also came.
402:a A former revenue cutter, which probably carried away the man against whom this was composed and held him in confinement for a time.
405:a This name probably owes its origin to the circumstances recounted in story 24.
407:a A special sky realm for those who have died by violence.
409:a Probably where they were drowned.
410:a See story 31, p. 106.
414:a Lâ'xayî is the Klahowya of the Chinook jargon.
414:b Songs 97 to 102 were given the writer by his interpreter, Don Cameron. The rest were obtained from a Sitka Indian of the Box-house people named Dekinâ'k!u.
415:a The term translated "aunts" is used generally for those women of the opposite clan with whom it was allowable to marry.