LITTLE PUPPY
Little puppy with black spots,
Come and herd the flock with me.
We will climb the red rocks
And from the top we'll see
The tall cliffs, the straight cliffs,
The fluted cliffs,
Where eagles live.
We'll see the dark rocks,
That hold the rain to give us
Water, when we eat our bread and meat,
When the sun is high.
Little spotted dog of mine,
Come and spend the day with me.
When the sun is going down
Behind the pointed hill,
We will follow home the flock.
They will lead the way
To the hogans where the fires burn
And square cornbread is in the ashes,
Waiting our return.
from
~THE NAVAJO AMERICAN INDIAN~
Transcribed by Hilda Faunce Wetherill
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