Step soft upon the sacred ground
Breath of air the only sound
So much wisdom to be found
Here upon the serpent mound
Summer corn in bursting fields
Harvest time is drawing near
Autumn sky so blue and clear
Upon these heights release your fears
Grandmother cedar, ancient oak
Sycamore our silent host
Walnut, buckeye, hickory
Spirit speaks in rustling leaves
Walk along the ancient road
In the footsteps of our ancestors
Hear the drums from days if old
Dancing through the fields of gold
