  Owosco. Here, here, enough of this nonsense! Why should you sing about that which you think peculiar to yourselves, when, as a matter of fact, all tribes, nations, and classes are alike? Wanda. But are you sure all are alike? Owosco. Certainly. We are all tarred with the same stick. Sings: The same black tar, By the same black stick, No matter who we are, Is laid on thick. If poor, we’re marred, If rich, we kick, But we’re all of us tarred With the same black stick. We’re applauded by the populace, and praised by every tongue. But if a fell disaster crown the efforts we have planned, Our methods are at once condemned by old as well as young. All. The same black tar, By the same black stick, No matter who we are, Is laid on thick. If poor, we’re marred, If rich, we kick, But we’re all of us tarred With the same black stick. Owosco (derisively). Ah! here comes our worthy apology for a chief. Otsiketa. And our equally worthy medicine man. Owosco. They make a gay old couple. The one is about as useful as the other. “OLD CHIEF (TO MEDICINE MAN): ‘WHAT SHALL I SAY TO THESE YOUNG MEN?’” (Enter Old Chief, closely followed by Medicine Man, both old and ugly.) Old Chief sings: I’m chief of the tribe of the Wa-wa-ta-see, As savage a savage as savage can be; I’ve scalped and I’ve murdered full many a foe— Owosco. Yes, yes; but that happened a long time ago. All. Long, long ago, we had wars in the land, And pillage and bloodshed on every hand; With knife and with arrow, with war-club and bow, We defended our country a long time ago. In love-making nonsense I never took part; Neither war-club nor squaw ever conquered my heart; I forcibly reaped, but I never would sow— Owosco. Yes, yes; but that happened a long time ago. All. Long, long ago, we had wonderful chiefs, Who gathered in scalp-locks as farmers do sheaves. Much rather they’d fight than a-courting they’d go— But that happened, thank goodness, a long time ago. Old Chief. Young men, in my day, courted war’s cutting claws, Nor wasted their time making love to the squaws; Such fooling as that in those days did not go— Owosco. Yes, yes; but that happened a long time ago. All. What wonders the men were a long time ago, How thankful we are that it now isn’t so! Every day for amusement a-killing they’d go, In the fearful, the awful, the long time ago. Otsiketa. Say, old fellow, you must have been a great chap beyond all our memories! Owosco. I say, old chap, where did you ever manage to store all your scalps? Old Chief (to Medicine Man). What shall I say to these young men? They’re getting very inquisitive! Medicine Man. I should not answer them. The proper thing to do is to assume a dignified silence. When we’re attacked at any point, Our knavery to hide, We get ourselves behind a wall Of silence dignified, A wall without a hole or chink, Behind it all is black as ink, Where we’re obscure from those who think Into our past to pry. When at our deeds they wish to peek, And interviewers mild and meek, Attempt to make this couple speak, They might as well not try. Medicine Man. I never eased a human ill, Old Chief. I never struck a blow; Both. The potency of club or pill We neither of us know. But when our youth would question us, We assume a lofty pride, And wrap us up in a solemn cloak Of silence dignified. John Barr. |
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