Wikipedia
Waub-o-jeeg, also written Wa-bo-jeeg or other variants of Ojibwe Waabojiig (White Fisher) (c. 1747-1793) was a famous warrior and chief of the Ojibwa. He was born into the Adik (caribou) doodem some time in the mid-18th century near Zhaagawaamikong on the western end of Lake Superior. His father Ma-mong-a-ze-da was also a noted warrior, who fought for the French in the Battle of the Plains of Abraham. Although Wabojeeg's family had intermarried with the Dakota people during times of peace, and he had several Dakota relatives, including the famous chief Wapasha, he fought in several battles against the Dakota and Meskwaki during his lifetime. His children, notably his son Weshkii (the renewer) and his youngest daughter Ozhaguscodaywayquay, became prominent in the Sault Ste. Marie area, a major fur trading post.
Waub-ojeeg distrusted white men because of their encroachment on Native territory. When John Johnston, a young Scots-Irish fur trader, fell in love with his eldest daughter, Ozhaguscodaywayquay, and asked the chief to be allowed to marry her. Waub-o-jeeg at first refused, saying: "White Man, I have noticed your behaviour, it has been correct; but, White Man, your colour is deceitful. Of you, may I expect better things? You say you are going to Montreal; go, and if you return I shall be satisfied of your sincerity and will give you my daughter."
While a respected warrior, Waub-ojeeg was also known for his poetry. He created "Waub-ojeeg's Battle Song", which his son-in-law John Johnston translated into English:
"On that day when our heroes lay low, lay low,
On that day when our heroes lay low
I fought by their side, and thought, ere I died,
Just vengeance to take on the foe,
Just vengeance to take on the foe.
On that day, when our chieftains lay dead, lay dead,
On that day, when our chieftains lay dead,
I fought hand to hand at the head of my band,
And here on my breast have I bled, have I bled,
And here on my breast have I bled.
Our chiefs shall return no more, no more,
Our chiefs shall return no more -
Nor their brethren of war, who can show scar for scar,
Like women their fates shall deplore, deplore,
Like women their fates shall deplore.
Five winters in hunting we'll spend, we'll spend,
Five winters in hunting we'll spend,
Till our youth, grown to men, we'll to the war lead again,
And our days like our fathers' will end, will end,
And our days like our fathers' will end.''