The flesh is tasting salty

all up in my mouth.

The flesh of the ememy

who attacked my people and me.

We need to eat their flesh

to survive the night ahead.

We only eat the body and the limbs,

we do not eat the head.

That we save for the chiefman

and my trophy stand ay home.

When the shrinking is done

the head will not have grown.

It will be tiny,

the pride of my home.

When people come to see me

I will show it with pride,

my son will get the head

when I have up and died.

The village will show me honor

and put a crown on me

'cause I have the head

of the Englishman King.