Part of my red feather boa is missing .. hmm. Being full of Scrumpy and Afro-dizzy-act I have decided to change my attire for something more suitable for the dance - a ballerina skirt in layers of gold netting covered with golden LED lights that light up whether there is sun or not. I will glow for miles. The top is barely there, a couple of more LEDs and that is that. I will change my jewel-studded Cowgirl Hat for a Sapphire-covered Tiara that will flash as I twist and turn on the dance floor with each man as he flits by, but first I must do the Can Can ( my speciality) to liven up the ballroom. People on the spaceship will think I am a lighthouse... aha, here we go... grab the skirts, fling them from side to side, leg up above my head and twirl.... to much applause. Now for the splits - down we go, oooooooooooh, I can't get up. Thanks Ed, I am glad you are here to help. Now I am covered in burned potato skins with a few red feathers ... ah, well... who expected Gregory Peck? Following my dazzling performance on the dance floor I have been asked to sing the Hallelujah Chorus all by myself. How delightful, it is thrilling that people remember my past performances. JohnO would never let me sing, only hum softly. The parrots, in their little Fred Astaire attire are gathering the animals, (Yes, even the Wyrm) all wearing their feather boas, out on the dance floor for the Conga Line... there they go ... Ay, Ay, Conga... 1 and 2 and 3 kick, 1 and 2 and 3 kick - Ay, Ay, Conga! I think we ought to join them...