A Perfect Indian is he
Remembering him life is sweet
Like a weeping willow
His face on my pillow
Comes to me still in my dreams
And there I saw a young baby
A beautiful daughter was she
A face from a painting
Red cheeks and teeth aching
Her eyes like a wild Irish sea
On a table in her yellow dress

For a photograph feigned happiness
Why in my life is that the only time
That any of you will smile at me
I#m sailing on this terrible ocean
I#ve come for my self to retrieve
Too long have I been feeling like Lir#s children
And there#s only one way to be free
He#s shy and he speaks quietly
He#s gentle and he seems to me
Like the elf-arrow
His face worn and harrowed
Is he a daydreamer like me