We heard him scratch below,

We made our mark, and we watched beside,

Out on the edge of the floe.

We raised our lance when he rose to breathe,

We drove it downward — so!

And we played him thus, and we killed him thus,

Out on the edge of the floe.

Our gloves are glued with the frozen blood,

Our eyes with the drifting snow;

But we come back to our wives again,

Back from the edge of the floe!

Au jana! Aua! Oha! Haq!

And the loaded dog-teams go,

And the wives can hear their men come back.

Back from the edge of the floe!