Come Out, O Little Moccasins, And Frolic On The Snow! Come Out, O Tiny Beaded Feet, And Twinkle In The Light! I'll Play The Old Red River Reel, You Used To Love It So: Awake, O Little Moccasins, And Dance For Me To-Night! Your Hair Was All A Gleamy Gold, Your Eyes A Corn-Flower Blue; Your Cheeks Were Pink As Tinted Shells, You Stepped Light As A Fawn; Your Mouth Was Like A Coral Bud, With Seed Pearls Peeping Through; As Gladdening As Spring You Were, As Radiant As Dawn. Come Out, O Little Moccasins! I'll Play So Soft And Low, The Songs You Loved, The Old Heart-Songs That In My Mem'Ry Ring; O Child, I Want To Hear You Now Beside The Campfire Glow! With All Your Heart A-Throbbing In The Simple Words You Sing. For There Was Only You And I, And You Were All To Me; And Round Us Were The Barren Lands, But Little Did We Fear; Of All God'S Happy, Happy Folks The Happiest Were We. . . . (Oh, Call Her, Poor Old Fiddle Mine, And Maybe She Will Hear!) Your Mother Was A Half-Breed Cree, But You Were White All Through; And I, Your Father Was - But Well, That's Neither Here Nor There; I Only Know, My Little Queen, That All My World Was You, And Now That World Can End To-Night, And I Will Never Care. For There'S A Tiny Wooden Cross That Pricks Up Through The Snow: (Poor Little Moccasins! You're Tired, And So You Lie At Rest.) And There'S A Grey-Haired, Weary Man Beside The Campfire Glow: (O Fiddle Mine! The Tears To-Night Are Drumming On Your Breast.)