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Updated: May 25, 2025
"Thanks for a good meal to Kuskokala the Shamán On the far mountain quietly lieth your husband." Ahmi, ahmi, sleep little one, wake not. "Twenty deers' tongues tied to the pack on his shoulders; Not a tongue in his mouth to call to his wife with. Wolves, foxes, and ravens are tearing and fighting for morsels. Tough and hard are the sinews; not so the child in your bosom."
He brings you back fat, marrow, venison fresh from the mountain Tired and worn, yet he's carved you a toy of the deer's horn, While he was sitting and waiting long for the deer on the hillside. Wake! see the crow! hiding himself from the arrow; Wake, little one, wake! here is your father safe home." "Who's 'Kuskokala the Shamán'?" the Boy inquired. "Ah, better ask Nicholas," answered the priest.
The Boy began to feel that, if he did finally say something it would be as surprising as to hear an aged monkey break into articulate speech. Nicholas edged towards the Shamán, presenting something in a birch-bark dish. "What's that?" "A deer's tongue," whispered Muckluck. The Boy remembered the Koyukun song, "Thanks for a good meal to Kuskokala, the Shamán."
Comes he not soon, I will seek him among the mountains. Ahmi, Ahmi, sleep, little one, sleep. The crow has come laughing. His beak is red, his eyes glisten, the false one. 'Thanks for a good meal to Kuskokala the Shaman. On the sharp mountain quietly lies your husband. Ahmi, Ahmi, sleep, little one, wake not.
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