Quiquern

The People of the Eastern Ice, they are melting like the snow-
 They beg for coffee and sugar; they go where the white men go.
 The People of the Western Ice, they learn to steal and fight;
 They sell their furs to the trading-post; they sell their souls to
  the white.
 The People of the Southern Ice, they trade with the whaler's
  crew;
 Their women have many ribbons, but their tents are torn and few.
 But the People of the Elder Ice, beyond the white man's ken-
 Their spears are made of the narwhal-horn, and they are the last
 of the Men!