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