The northern lights are flashing
  On the rapids' restless flow,
But o'er the wild waves dashing
  Swift darts the light canoe:
    The merry hunters come,--
      "What cheer? What cheer?"
      We 've slain the deer!"
    "Hurrah! you 're welcome home!"
 
The blithesome horn is sounding,
  And the woodman's loud halloo;
And joyous steps are bounding
  To meet the birch canoe.
    "Hurrah! the hunters come!"
      And the woods ring out
      To their noisy shout,
    As they drag the dun deer home!
 
The hearth is brightly burning,
  The rustic board is spread;
To greet their sire returning
  The children leave their bed.
    With laugh and shout they come,
      That merry band,
      To grasp his hand
    And bid him welcome home!