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Black and White Ball

Words and Music by Ben Scott © 2005 

We headed on out to a cove on the north side, all men at oars in the spray and the swell
We met them on the sand, they pointed showing a sure place to land
Some carried strips of a bright red cloth, they must have met with the Governor before
They wore them tied on their bodies, our amateur marks of diplomacy 
And these people, they mixed with our own and then all hands danced together 
Chaotic circles and patterns peculiar as laughing we tried not to fall to the ground 
Stepping on toes as around we go da da da…
Red coats and black skin, red cheeks and wide grins da da da… 
Spears cast a side and no guns here at all da da da…
A sight so absurd is the black and white ball da da da…
Intimate acts thereafter followed, exchange of language in the afternoon sun 
They could repeat words at will, while we had considerable trouble
Then they sat and suffered our men to attend to combing and clipping their hair
It was a difficult job, it was hair that no comb had passed through
And through the grey trees the ocean whispered its secrets to the dry sandy ground
And the lapping of waves and the soft native syllables spoke to us something half lost but profound
It’s easy to see what ridiculous figures we must appear to these poor people They are
perfectly naked, they must think we're swaddled like babies
And not wearing beards and with features so fine, it soon became clear they were wanting to know
Are we man or woman, which was answered most humorous and graphically When one
of our men under orders unbuttoned his britches the native men gave a great shout
And the women we were wanting to tempt to come closer but for such buffoons they would offer no favours
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