Listen, Rosaleen. Out in the islands,
Lived a chief called Kupe, who was proud,
Once in chase of Muturangi's wheke
He by fortune found the Long White Cloud.

In his long canoe enseamed with sinnet
Past Te Kawa Kawa on he came,
There his daughters paused and plaited garlands
Of the leaf that gave the Bay its name.

Into this wide harbour came they softly.
“Ah,” said Matiu, “two islands small.”
“One I name for thee,” said Kupe, laughing,
“One for Makaro, thy sister tall.”

Ere they sailed again for their own island
They looked long on leaf and flower and loam,
Their dark eyes went searching, searching, searching,
Then they bore the tidings home.

There unto the tribe they told their story,
“But,” said Toto, frowning in the sun,
“In that land of blossoms, bays, and rivers,
Of its men-folk saw you not a one?”

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“None saw I,” said Kupe, after silence,
“No man saw I there by shore or hill,
But I saw a little Tiwai-waka,
And a Weka tilted up at me his bill.”

“But,” said Toto, wrinkling in his wonder,
“Did the land lie silent, dead, and lone?”
“Only one bird heard I through the stillness,
A Kokako Ko-ing on a stone!’”

In the Kauwae-Raro you will find it,
Find great Kupe's true and simple word,
How he heard the call of the Kokako,
And no other crying bird.

Little heart, be proud of the Kokako,
For it is our own, and very old,
May it Ko for ever on the ridges,
May it Ko until the sun turns cold.