Oh our Mother the Earth,
Oh our Father the Sky,
Your children are we, and with tired backs We bring you the gifts that you love.
Then weave for us a garment of brightness. May the warp be the bright light of morning; May the fringes be the falling rain;
May the borders be the standing rainbow. Thus weave for us a garment of brightness, that we may walk fittingly where birds sing; That we may walk fittingly where grass is green.
Oh our Mother the Earth, oh our Father the Sky.
—Tewa Tribal Song