The wind of the desart was high

The wind of the desart was high, The rains made the rivers to flow, The thunder was heard from the sky, And the wild beasts were roaring below.

The white man come over the sea, Stood aghast at the terrible sound, Then laid his limbs under a tree, And rested his head on the ground.

Despairing he wept and he sigh'd, As we found him all weak and forlorn; No mother his milk to provide, No wise to make bread of his corn!

Then let us in pity unite, To soften his woes if we can; —What tho' he be ugly and white, My comrades, he still is a MAN.