English poem
The Friendly Spies
by Abner Cosens
A Tale of Camp Borden
November, 1916
The main camping ground of the Huron Indians was near where Camp Borden is now situated.
Where soldiers build their camp fires, At night there gather 'round The spirits of the Hurons From Happy Hunting ground, No sentry hears their footsteps, They need no countersigns; As silent as the moonlight, They pass within the lines.
Fierce shine their dusky faces As through the tents they glide, Once more they smell the war paint And know a warrior's pride; The white man's modern weapons Their ghostly fingers feel, The guns so swift and deadly, The long sharp blades of steel.
They nod to one another, Nor knew so wild a joy Since, leagued with the Algonquins, They fought the Iroquois; Among the sleeping soldiers They pass the silent night, And nudge, and smile, and whisper, "White brother make big fight."
When shafts of light are breaking Across the eastern sky, They wrap their mantles 'round them, And breathe a soft "Good-bye", Then vanish like the shadows That lurk among the trees, The sentry hearing only The sighing of the breeze.