The Yadavas (literally, descended from Yadu) were an ancient Indian people who believed themselves to be descended from Yadu, a mythical king. The community was probably formed of four clans, being the Abhira, Andhaka, Vrishni, and Satvatas, who all worshipped Krishna. They are listed in ancient Indian literature as the segments of the lineage of Yadu (Yaduvamsha). A number of communities and royal dynasties of ancient, medieval and modern Indian subcontinent, claiming their descents from the ancient Yadava clans and mythical Yadava personalities also describe themselves as the Yadavas.
Amongst the Yadava clans mentioned in ancient Indian literature, the Haihayas are believed to have descended from Sahasrajit, elder son of Yadu and all other Yadava clans, which include the Chedis, the Vidarbhas, the Satvatas, the Andhakas, the Kukuras, the Bhojas, the Vrishnis and the Shainyas are believed to have descended from Kroshtu or Kroshta, younger son of Yadu.
It can be inferred from the vamshanucharita (genealogy) sections of a number of major Puranas that, the Yadavas spread out over the Aravalli region, Gujarat, the Narmada valley, the northern Deccan and the eastern Ganges valley. The Mahabharata and the Puranas mention that the Yadus or Yadavas, a confederacy comprising numerous clans were the rulers of the Mathura region. The Mahabharata also refers to the exodus of the Yadavas from Mathura to Dvaraka owing to pressure from the Paurava rulers of Magadha, and probably also from the Kurus
I won't go traveling tonight
I won't go back to the wolves, now
There's something singing in the ice
In the deepest part of the world
And a film across my eyes
As I'm watching all the waves turn white
He took me out on the tide
To make pearls of my eyes
And uncover me, oh, without asking
Tore every stich, every line, every hook, every eye
Between him and the diamonds, diamonds
I would not give, but maybe tonight I will
With you holding my arms and my stuttering heart
As I'm bound and flayed alive
Oh, don't go traveling tonight
Hold that child in your arms
Well, there's no more canaries in the mine
And a cloud, black over the water
And a voice, low in my ear