Post by Okwes on May 24, 2007 13:42:17 GMT -5
Crow's Song - Cochiti
At the bottom of La Bajada Road there was a pueblo (an unnamed ruin). Crow
said to himself, "I shall go to that plain and sing a song for that pueblo
to make them happy." Crow went into an inner room. He said, "I won't tell my
mother, but I'll take this bunch of dancing shells." He took them and went
to the plain and started to dance (very slow dignified steps). He sang his
song (in unintelligible language). Nobody paid any attention except old
Coyote. He came running. "I heard somebody singing nicely far off. I shall
go to him and find his song." Old Crow kept on singing. Old Coyote got near,
"Are you singing?" he said. "No; I am not singing." "Yes,; you are singing.
I saw you far off. What a pretty bunch of shells you have. Will you lend
them to me? Then if I learn the song, I shall have this kind of shells too."
"I won't let anybody have them. You have good eyes. I took out my eyes and
made them shells. Look at my eyes. I haven't any." He shut them tight.
"Shall I cut yours out and make, shells?" "With what?" "Go and find a sharp
black stone (arrowhead), I'll cut them out with that." "All right; I'll find
one, for I want to sing the song you sing." He brought this and laid it on
the ground. Crow said, "Lie down flat." Coyote did this. Crow came with the
sharp black stone and cut under his eyes. "Ouch, ouch!" "Don't say that or
the shells won't sound nice." So Coyote didn't make a sound, though the
blood rolled down his eyes. Crow held up one eye and gave it to him. Coyote
was blind on one side. Crow cut out the other eye. "Ouch, ouch!" he cried.
"Don't," said Crow. "All right," he answered. "Now, get up." Coyote was
blind on the other side. Coyote stood up, his eyes in his hand. "Now, start
your song," commanded Crow. He shook his eyes and shook them, and he sang,
but they did not sound right at all. "It doesn't sound right," he said. Crow
flew away, and he called back, "Stay as you are! Do as you please!" He
watched Coyote from the air; Coyote was bumping into everything. "I wish
anybody would come along and take me home," he said. Nobody came. He came to
a high bank and walked right off. There he died.
Tales of the Cochiti Indians by Ruth Benedict, Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin No. 98 [1932]
At the bottom of La Bajada Road there was a pueblo (an unnamed ruin). Crow
said to himself, "I shall go to that plain and sing a song for that pueblo
to make them happy." Crow went into an inner room. He said, "I won't tell my
mother, but I'll take this bunch of dancing shells." He took them and went
to the plain and started to dance (very slow dignified steps). He sang his
song (in unintelligible language). Nobody paid any attention except old
Coyote. He came running. "I heard somebody singing nicely far off. I shall
go to him and find his song." Old Crow kept on singing. Old Coyote got near,
"Are you singing?" he said. "No; I am not singing." "Yes,; you are singing.
I saw you far off. What a pretty bunch of shells you have. Will you lend
them to me? Then if I learn the song, I shall have this kind of shells too."
"I won't let anybody have them. You have good eyes. I took out my eyes and
made them shells. Look at my eyes. I haven't any." He shut them tight.
"Shall I cut yours out and make, shells?" "With what?" "Go and find a sharp
black stone (arrowhead), I'll cut them out with that." "All right; I'll find
one, for I want to sing the song you sing." He brought this and laid it on
the ground. Crow said, "Lie down flat." Coyote did this. Crow came with the
sharp black stone and cut under his eyes. "Ouch, ouch!" "Don't say that or
the shells won't sound nice." So Coyote didn't make a sound, though the
blood rolled down his eyes. Crow held up one eye and gave it to him. Coyote
was blind on one side. Crow cut out the other eye. "Ouch, ouch!" he cried.
"Don't," said Crow. "All right," he answered. "Now, get up." Coyote was
blind on the other side. Coyote stood up, his eyes in his hand. "Now, start
your song," commanded Crow. He shook his eyes and shook them, and he sang,
but they did not sound right at all. "It doesn't sound right," he said. Crow
flew away, and he called back, "Stay as you are! Do as you please!" He
watched Coyote from the air; Coyote was bumping into everything. "I wish
anybody would come along and take me home," he said. Nobody came. He came to
a high bank and walked right off. There he died.
Tales of the Cochiti Indians by Ruth Benedict, Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin No. 98 [1932]