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Page:Many Many Moons.djvu/48

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26
FLYING MOCCASINS
Ho! And big-much lightning, plenty-big storm!
Ho! Silver-wing God, with thy swift wet feet,
Come! Come! Come in thy big black war clouds!
Hurl thy arrows of flashing flame!
Rush at our foe with thy whirlwind waters!
Crush with thy storms the stinking beast
That defies thee here with his slimy poison—
Ho! Big medicine! Ho! Strong medicine!—
Silver scales of the Big Sea Snake!

Ho!

Motive II

Hah-yée! Hah-yó-ho-o-o-o! Hah-yó-ho-o-o-o!
Dance rhythm
ceases. To be
chanted with a
minor wail.
God of the Thunders, Thunder-God.
Hear thou our medicine rattles!
Hear! Hear our sounding drums!
Two moons the mountain brooks have been dry,
And the panting birds like ghosts in a row,
Sit in the shade and sing no longer.
Our Brother, the Sun, can find his face
No more in the shining-glass of the river;
His eyes see nothing but yellow cracked mud
As wrinkled as the skins of our old women!
Eagerly the sunflower lifts her mouth to the dew,
Yet her lips parch and her head droops,
And her leafy arms grow thin and wither!

Ai-yee! Thunderer, Spirit of the Big Waters,
With burning tongues all the children of the earth—