Sing, goddess, of Marselles’ son Jaylen, the young prince
Who brought sorrows to the shores of burning Cayahoga,
And placed upon a poster those who stood against him,
Making the Sons of Bingo Smith themselves cower.
For Jaylen was the will of Naismith fulfilled.
Muse, sing from the time he stepped on the parquet
In the waning days of the tenth month, lord of men,
And smote the Cavs at home as in days of old.
Who brought sorrows to the shores of burning Cayahoga,
And placed upon a poster those who stood against him,
Making the Sons of Bingo Smith themselves cower.
For Jaylen was the will of Naismith fulfilled.
Muse, sing from the time he stepped on the parquet
In the waning days of the tenth month, lord of men,
And smote the Cavs at home as in days of old.