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The first death has come and now it follows us

Everything has changed, in ceremony we trust

The people have gathered, now we must begin

A time of mourning

Has been ushered in

The materials are gathered, each village arrives

To work together

And carry out the rites

The people worried how Coyote would receive

The death of his father, in all uncertainty

So they kept him out, but he would not stay

He leapt into the pyre, taking his father’s heart away

The first to die, promised to return

As the full moon, after the pyre burns

So we raise the pole, painted with funeral signs

Then burnt it down under pale moonlight

Now we cut our hair

As we hold on

To what left we have

Our old world is gone

But resolve is there

Our will is strong

We continue these traditions

As our mourning goes on