On the path I thread,
My soul is lost,
My light is so dim,
So it seemed, till I heard the old drums.
Drums of joy and tears,
Melodic music of pain,
Painted on my heart was ancient sorrow, when the rider rode not his horse,
Oh! What awaits our morrow?
Oh! I'm ready, ready to ride the riders horse,
Ready to visit my fathers,
Oh! ready to go before my father.
Oh! You ancestral hands,
Beat the drums of the dead,
Let my soul dance the dance of the rider,
Into the ancestral world shall it tred,
To fulfill the riders duties is its course.
Do not weep my fathers,
For the crown has being delivered in safety,
Oh! We journeyed well.