from THE JUNGLE BOOKS
          - Rudyard Kipling

The People of the Eastern Ice, they are melting like the snow -
They beg for coffee and sugar, they go where the white men go.
The People of the Western Ice, they learn to steal and fight;
They sell their furs to the trading post; they sell their souls to the white.
The People of the Southern Ice, they trade with the whaler's crew;
Their women have many ribbons, but their tents are torn and few.
But the People of the Elder Ice, beyond the white man's ken -
Their spears are made of narwhal-horn, and they are the last of the Men!