 By Warwick Evans
Deep in the heart of the reservation, Big Chief Sitting Duck was addressing his
Christmas cards. He would have been addressing his braves, but it was a weekend and most
of them were at home - and those that weren't were doing some silly rain dance.
(drumming)
- Sitting Duck:
- Holy moccasins and great bottles of fire water. When on earth will junior braves cease
this accursed non-stop drumming? They pray for rain in midst of typhoon season, when all
our reservoirs are full to overflowing. This way they know they cannot fail. But let them
continue. Like buffalo with pained expression on face and water in eye - I couldn't give a
foofy. Just like tribe from north, who try to stop construction of new landing strip along
with road for iron horse to run on. More noise they make, the better. So long as
troublemakers play with silly drums and senseless talk, Big Chief sitting Duck know him
safe from any harm.
(drumming stops)
- Sitting Duck:
- Oh ... This not good omen. Me now make urgent smoke-signal to Great White Hurd in
Downing Street. Not herd of Buffalo, but Douglas Hurd. Him come back and go make pow wow
once more in Great Wigwam of the People. Perhaps smoke pipe of peace. But I know him not
stay there too long. Tribe from north cannot make up their minds on what to say. One
moment it's peace okay - the next, peace off!
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