Alas!  I am betrothed (literally, my hands are bound);
     It is for Te Maunee
     That my love devours me. 
     But I may weep indeed,
     Beloved one, for thee,
     Like Tiniran’s lament
     For his favorite pet Tutunui
     Which was slain by Ngae. 
     Alas!

Shortland gives these specimens of the songs that are frequently accompanied by immodest gestures of the body.  Some of them are “not sufficiently decent to bear translating.”  The one marked (4) is interesting as an attempt at hyperbole.

(1)

     Your body is at Waitemata,
     But your spirit came hither
     And aroused me from my sleep.

(4)

     Tawera is the bright star
     Of the morning. 
     Not less beautiful is the
     Jewel of my heart.

(5)

     The sun is setting in his cave,
     Touching as he descends (the
     Land) where dwells my mate,
     He who is whirled away
     To southern seas.

More utilitarian are (6) and (7), in which a woman asks “Who will marry a man too lazy to till the ground for food?” And a man wants to know “Who will marry a woman too lazy to weave garments?” Very unlover-like is the following: 

     I don’t like the habits of woman. 
     When she goes out—­
     She Kuikuis
     She Koakoas
     She chatters
     The very ground is terrified,
     And the rats run away. 
        Just so.

More poetic are the waiata, which are sung without the aid of any action.  The following ode was composed by a young woman forsaken by her lover: 

     Look where the mist
     Hangs over Pukehina. 
     There is the path
     By which went my love.

     Turn back again hither,
     That may be poured out
     Tears from my eyes.

     It was not I who first spoke of love. 
     You it was who made advances to me
     When I was but a little thing.

     Therefore was my heart made wild. 
     This is my farewell of love to thee.

A young woman, who had been carried away prisoner from Tuhua, gives vent to her longing in these lines: 

“My regret is not to be expressed.  Tears like a spring gush from my eyes.  I wonder whatever is Te Kaiuku [her lover] doing:  he who deserted me.  Now I climb upon the ridge of Mount Parahaki; from whence is clear the view of the island Tahua.  I see with regret the lofty Taumo, where dwells Tangiteruru.  If I were there, the shark’s tooth would hang from my ear.  How fine, how beautiful, should I look.  But see whose ship is that tacking?  Is it yours?  O Hu! you husband of Pohiwa, sailing away on the tide to Europe.

     “O Tom! pray give me some of your fine things; for
     beautiful are the clothes of the sea-god.

     “Enough of this.  I must return to my rags, and to my
     nothing-at-all.”