Yanko he tell, and he no lie

Yanko he tell, and he no lie,
We near one pretty brook,
Him floming hair him lovely yiei
Sweetly on Orra look:
Him see big world fine warrior men,
Grand cruel king love blood;
Great king! but Yanko say what den
If he no honest good?
Virtue in foe be virtue still,
Fine stone be found in mine,
The sun one dale, as well one hill,
Make warm where'er him shine.

You broder him, him broder you,
So all de world should call,
For nature say, and she say true,
That men be broder all.
If cruel man, like tiger grim,
Come bold in thirst of blood,
Poor man:—be noble—pity him,
That he no honest good:
Virtue in foe be virtue still,
Fine stone be found in mine,
The sun one dale, as well one hill,
Make warm where'er him shine.