Tum, tum, tum, tum! tum, tum, tum! Four rugged chieftains pounding on a drum; One, two, three, four! Who will take the lead? Someone must begin it or be battered with a reed. A weather-beaten squaw with trinkets in her ears, Shuffles to the rhythm of the weird song she hears; A buck tries to follow, as he capers on the green, Leaping through a hoop with agility of mien; An old man, with horns upon his tousled head of hair, Shambles into step with a proud and lordly air; A fair one, beruffled, with a shawl of purple-blue, Flourishes the fringes with the grace the Follies do. Bells upon their ankles, chaps of buffalo, Tails long and bushy, waving to and fro, Frock coats of gingham, vests of burly bear, Feather decked, bead decked, dancing on the square: A short step, a long step, definite and quick, Measured to the rhythm of a neatly padded stick; Tum-ee, tum-ee, tum, tum! tum-ee, tum-ee, tum! Four ragged chieftains beating on a drum! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BRIGHTNESS AS A POIGNANT LIGHT by DAVID IGNATOW PICKING AND CHOOSING by MARIANNE MOORE FOREFATHERS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE HEART OF THE TREE by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER THE CHILDREN by CHARLES MONROE DICKINSON |