1072 lines
34 KiB
Plaintext
1072 lines
34 KiB
Plaintext
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FFFFF I L K K fffff i l eeeee
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F I L K K f i l e
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FFFF I L KK ffff i l eeee
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F I L K K f i l e
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F I LLLLLL K K f i llllll eeeee
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THREE
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----------------------------------------------------------------
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The third compilation of filksongs collected from the FILK Echo
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and provided for download via the auspices of Kay Shapero, moder-
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ator of same. Publication date, July 1990. All copyrights
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belong to the writers.
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FILKfile appears at irregular intervals of a month or more,
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depending on how many songs appear on the echo.
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----------------------------------------------------------------
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ALL YOU NEED
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words by Steve Martin
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(tune: "Sometimes A Fantasy")
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Oh, I didn't want to do it but I wasn't sleepy
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I had to call it up in the middle of the night
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wouldn't wake my friends, but the BBS is always open
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what I really need is stimulation
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somebody else who has imagination
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it's just me killing time
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'cause I don't count sheep
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it's just me killing time
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because I can't sleep
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sometimes some play of mind
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is all you need
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In time I got so tired, but I stayed on anyway
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touring doors and files and echoes, couldn't stop just yet
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and though I knew that in the morning that I'd sure regret it
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I played half an hour of Global Warfare
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before a.m. events kicked me off there
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it's just a "quick" phone call
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to read a note or three
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can't make a long phone call
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(got low secur'ty)
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sometimes to read a while
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is all you need
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Oh, I know I couldn't think straight, I was really sleepy
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but I had to put the tune out of my head
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though half the lyrics and the melody are clearly stolen
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from a song that happ'nd to be playing
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while through the wrong base I was straying
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it's just me killing time
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waiting for forty winks
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it's just me trying to rhyme
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but trying not to think
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sometimes that state of mind
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is all you need
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words copyright Steve Martin, June 1990
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*****
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DIRGE FOR THE LIVING
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by Jean-Guy Talbot de Luc
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Where were you the night I needed you the most?
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I looked to find you there, and you were but a ghost.
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I feel the sickness of being alone; the lump that's in my throat,
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A glimmer of hope that shone in a loveless heart afloat.
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You will all be there, but you will all be late
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You'll remember that you cared, but resign yourself to fate
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Try to sleep at night, and walk the edge, equate
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'Tween suddenness and change, and fear, how they relate.
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Where are you now? In grief and deep despair.
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Warm tears fall on my chest, perchance a snip of hair
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Bemoaning damned accursed time, the unfunny cosmic joke
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It snatches at poetic rhyme and snuffs like candle smoke.
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You will all be there unsufferable in your shock
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Setting back the hands of your ticking mental clocks
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Faces of your bedfellows are strangers there who mock
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Laughing at the pile of sand where once stood such a rock.
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Where were you the day a man became a boy?
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He was lost when walking home from some aimless hunt for joy
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He found only vague answers to questions of the heart
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Seeking not to find an end but perhaps by lark a start
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Now you see me lying here in cold lifeless repose
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Flowers' scent, and portraits drawn; a single wilting rose.
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Regretting not a moment from any path I chose
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Safely led into the hands of He who Truly Knows.
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And where was I? Not this twisted, haunted face!
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I, too, failed to recognize a human in it's place
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I erred not to indulge, driving love away
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My greatest sin was Pride, and Passion was its' prey.
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Now we all are here, and yes, it is too late,
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Our lots have all been cast; the terms too grim to state
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Remember that we love the same thing that we hate
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That some are meant to die..and some are bound to wait.
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copyright 1989, 1990 C.D.Floyd * used by permission
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The above, and many other songs may be had in cassette form
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entitled "The Troll Tones Vol 1 (The Prince's Ball)" and "The
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Troll Tones Vol 2." Contact C.D.Floyd, 8546 N 59th Ave #203,
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Glendale, AZ 85302 USA for information.
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*****
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I SING OF DEAD BUNNIES
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-Anonymous, but Moonwulf started it!
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(tune: "Sweet Betsy From Pike" )
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I sing of dead bunnies, and burnt baby chicks
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Barbecued squirrels, and hamsters on sticks
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Ducklings in blenders, and frogs off the road
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Opossums on fenders and deep french-fried toad!
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Sliced and diced sparrows, dead dogs on the lawn
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Cats riddled with arrows, and disemboweled faun
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Pickled canaries, and clubbed baby seals
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Mice served in berries, and turtles 'neath wheels
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Minced baby earwigs, koala fillet
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Rat Pie with custard, and cockroach puree
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Fred's little brother, and Mystery Beast:
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These are the things that they served at the Feast!
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*****
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LORD OF THE DANCE
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by Gwyddion PenDderwyn, Amy Falkowitz, Ann Case, Len Rosenberg
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recorded by Joe Bethancourt
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"Celtic Circle Dance"
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She danced on the water, and the wind was Her horn
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The Lady laughed, and everything was born
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And when She lit the sun and its' light gave Him birth
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The Lord of the Dance first appeared on the Earth
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horus): Dance, dance, where ever you may be
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I am the Lord of the Dance, you see!
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I live in you, and you live in Me
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And I lead you all in the Dance, said He!
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I danced in the morning when the World was begun
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I danced in the Moon and the Stars and the Sun
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I was called from the Darkness by the Song of the Earth
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I joined in the Song, and She gave Me the Birth!
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I dance in the Circle when the flames leap up high
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I dance in the Fire, and I never, ever, die
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I dance in the waves of the bright summer sea
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For I am the Lord of the wave's mystery
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I sleep in the kernel, and I dance in the rain
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I dance in the wind, and thru the waving grain
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And when you cut me down, I care nothing for the pain;
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In the Spring I'm the Lord of the Dance once again!
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I dance at the Sabbat when you dance out the Spell
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I dance and sing that everyone be well
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And when the dancing's over do not think that I am gone
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To live is to Dance! So I dance on, and on!
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I see the Maidens laughing as they dance in the Sun
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And I count the fruits of the Harvest, one by one
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I know the Storm is coming, but the Grain is all stored
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So I sing of the Dance of the Lady, and Her Lord:
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The Horn of the Lady cast its' sound 'cross the Plain
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The birds took the notes, and gave them back again
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Till the sound of Her music was a Song in the sky
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And to that Song there is only one reply:
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The moon in her phases, and the tides of the sea
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The movement of the Earth, and the Seasons that will be
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Are the rhythm for the dancing, and a promise thru the years
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That the Dance goes on thru all our joy, and tears
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We dance ever slower as the leaves fall and spin
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And the sound of the Horn is the wailing of the wind
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The Earth is wrapped in stillness, and we move in a trance,
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But we hold on fast to our faith in the Dance!
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The sun is in the southland and the days grow chill
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And the sound of the horn is fading on the hill
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'Tis the horn of the Hunter, as he rides across the plain
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And the Lady sleeps 'til the Spring comes again
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The Sun is in the Southland and the days lengthen fast
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And soon we will sing for the Winter that is past
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Now we light the candles and rejoice as they burn
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And we dance the Dance of the Sun's return!
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They danced in the darkness and they danced in the night
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They danced on the Earth, and everything was light
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They danced out the Darkness and they danced in the Dawn
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And the Day of that Dancing is still going on!
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I gaze on the Heavens and I gaze on the Earth
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And I feel the pain of dying, and re-birth
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And I lift my head in gladness, and in praise
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For the Dance of the Lord, and His Lady gay
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I dance in the stars as they whirl throughout space
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And I dance in the pulse of the veins in your face
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No dance is too great, no dance is too small,
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You can look anywhere, for I dance in them all!
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(repeat verse 1)
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*****
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NEW LORD OF THE DANCE SONG
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words and music by Elise
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Permission to perform cheerfully granted to pagans, Morris danc-
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ers, and their friends, and available on request for performance
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at paying gigs or on recordings.
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This has original music, which I haven't written down yet.
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The intro is a violin doing the Morris tune palyed for the dance
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"Abbott's Bromley", so if you know that one it gives you an idea
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of the rhythm and pacing.
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Written May 1988 after I was kidnapped Beltane morning and
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taken to a hidden glen at sunrise...
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(This is one of those rare pieces of mine that I do want to hang
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onto the rights... but I will gladly share with friends.)
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Get you up, get you up
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for today there be dancing to do
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and a new morn to greet
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In the grey before day
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hurry down to the place by the shore
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where the Morris do meet
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Come follow the fool to the cool of the dell
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where the Hobby and Betty do prance
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Come gird up your legs with the ribbons and bells
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Lay down the old spells of the Lord of the Dance
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In the dew of the new
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morning wait for the sun rising up
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from the cup of the hill
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With the dawn coming on
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sunlight falls like a smile on your face
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in the place that you fill
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With your ribbons so rare and your fair voices strong
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and your kerchiefs so white in your hands
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Come dance the old dances and sing the old songs
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May morning belongs to the Lord of the Dance
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Now all in your baldrics
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you dance in a ring round an oak
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like some folk from the past
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And you sing and you bring
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all your children together to learn
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each in turn from the last
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May your fire burn bright! Take delight in the feeling
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you've not come together by chance:
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Know the Lady of Seasons is turning the wheels
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Come kick up your heels with the Lord of the Dance!
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copyright 1988 Elise Krueger.
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*****
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NUDE
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words by Ioseph of Locksley and Aengus MacEdwin
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(tune: Men of Harlech)
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What the use of wearing panties
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whalebone corsets of your Auntie's
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boxer shorts and other scanties
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best of all is nude
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there's such fun in going bra-less
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now that it's no longer lawless
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'specially if your figure's flawless
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best of all is nude
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nude is what you're born in
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shirts are never torn in
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underwear and lacy flimsies, garter belts and other whimsies
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yards of itchy cloth to put your form in
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ducks all do it, maidens rue it
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even ancient Picts in Britain blue it
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going naked's how to do it
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best of all is nude!
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If your garters aren't elastic
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tie them up in knots fantastic
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(panty hose is something drastic!)
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best of all is nude!
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If you're tired of wearing clotheses
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shed your garment 'mongst the roses
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never mind the old bluenoses
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best of all is nude!
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Nude is best for ducking!
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Worst for horses bucking!
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Moonlit nights will see such sights
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that are very best for fooling round
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.....and elbows!
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Nudity is grand to see
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a well-known antidote to virginity
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take your clothes off and you'll see:
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best of all is nude!
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words copyright 1982 W.J.Bethancourt III and Ed Hirt
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*****
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OH TIBIA
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words by Elise
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(tune: O Tannenbaum)
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Oh tibia, oh fibula
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articulating in me
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Oh humerus, despite your name
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your humor fails to win me
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Your saving graces seem so few
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when I am memorizing you
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Oh tibia, oh fibula
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articulating in me.
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words copyright Elise 1990 (well probably much earlier, but exact
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date unknown.)
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*****
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ONCE UPON A MIDNIGHT DREARY
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poem by Nick Economos
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Once upon a midnight dreary,
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I had made a system query,
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Asking why my BBS had crashed and locked once more.
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When I nodded, to my terror,
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I got a "Fatal System Error"
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Cause "Unknown" and Type "Unknown" it made me rather sore,
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I threw my poor computer out the door.
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copyright Nick Economos, 1990
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|||
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*****
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THAT PRIME TIME RELIGION
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words by Brad Hicks, "with a little help from my friends"
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(tune: That Old Time Religion)
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CHORUS:
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Give me that Prime Time Religion,
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Give me that Prime Time Religion,
|
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Give me that Prime Time Religion!
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It's good enough for me.
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1) Brother Jerry is a cretin
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But with all the cash he's gettin'
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Lotsa folks'll be forgettin
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It's the "Land of the Free"
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2) Brother Robert's church is Crystal
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But all the Bible that he's missed'll
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Make you "hotter than a pistol"
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But he's good enough for me.
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3) Brother Jim and Sister Tammy
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Had a show that was a whammy
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But now they are in Miami
|
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Tryin' t'get back on TV.
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4) Brother Oral's in his tower,
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Trusting in the Lord's power
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Getting richer by the hour,
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Now he's got the ransom fee.
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5) Brother Earnest is a healer
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And not QUITE a wheeler-dealer --
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More a jumper and a squealer
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So he's good enough for me.
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6) Then there's good ol' Brother Billy
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Bringing souls in willy-nilly.
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All his trips are kinda silly,
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But he's good enough for me!
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*****
|
|||
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|
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THE DUEL
|
|||
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words by Bettie Dendekker
|
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(tune: "Kid's Last Fight")
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|
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|
Over on the SF (LIT) echo, Patrick Goodman ( "wannabe" an author,
|
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|
currently working on a TREK novel) insulted John DeChancie
|
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(author of the CASTLE series). John challenged Patrick to a duel.
|
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The place has been decided on, the ticket and refreshment conces-
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sion handed out and the weapons chosen. The following is what
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COULD happen. (BTW--the "FBT" stands for "frigging blue turt-
|
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loid". A reference to the cover of one of John's books--which
|
|||
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HAD no turtloid in it. It has resulted in a lot of ribbing of
|
|||
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John. [for one thing, I MADE one out of Super Sculpy and pre-
|
|||
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sented him with it when he was out in California for a visit.
|
|||
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--Kay S.])
|
|||
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|
|||
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It was John DeChancie versus Patrick G.
|
|||
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In the spot by the blasted oak.
|
|||
|
Eck was taking bets, busy as could be
|
|||
|
And Doug M. was selling beer and coke.
|
|||
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|
|||
|
Oh, the people gathered there from far and near
|
|||
|
There was Jo and Bud and DDB.
|
|||
|
Some had come to gloat and some had come to cheer,
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And some to see the FBT.
|
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|
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(Chorus) Come on, John. Come on, Pat.
|
|||
|
Use those sabers, slash and hack.
|
|||
|
Come on, John. Come on, Pat.
|
|||
|
We want to see a tappity, tappity, WHACK!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Oh, John D. was calm, he was quite relaxed
|
|||
|
While Pat was a nervous wreck.
|
|||
|
John had the confidence that Patrick lacked
|
|||
|
Pat G. was in a pile of dreck.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Oh, Pat G. was battered, Pat G. was gored
|
|||
|
But he couldn't let DeChancie win.
|
|||
|
Though his brain was reeling, when the people roared
|
|||
|
He was up on his feet again.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(Chorus)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Said DeChancie, scowling, "Don't you know you're thru?
|
|||
|
I can whip you, just like a child.
|
|||
|
I'm gonna take this fight, and take your Trek book, too."
|
|||
|
When he heard that, Pat G. went wild.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Said Pat G., "For that, I'll rend you limb from limb!"
|
|||
|
And he sprang like Karl Cullinane.
|
|||
|
He fought as if the Romulans were after him;
|
|||
|
Pretty soon, poor John D. was slain.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(Chorus)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
To the crowd that saw it, it was very plain
|
|||
|
That Pat G. was a champ that day.
|
|||
|
But the champ would never fight a duel again,
|
|||
|
CASTLE fans stomped his life away.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Gather 'round, I'm betting even money here
|
|||
|
That Pat G. found a place in heaven.
|
|||
|
And he's telling everyone that he gets near
|
|||
|
How great an author he would have been.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(Chorus)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Words copyright Bettie Dendekker, 1990
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
*****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
THE I/O SONG
|
|||
|
words by Melanthe Alexian
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(tune: "Heigh-Ho, Heigh-Ho, It's Off To Work We Go"
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(CHORUS 1)
|
|||
|
I/O, I/O,
|
|||
|
It's on the bus we go,
|
|||
|
Save our place - in address space, I/O, I/O.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(INTRO:)
|
|||
|
We byte-byte byte-byte byte-byte-byte,
|
|||
|
Off more than we can chew;
|
|||
|
We bit-bit bit-bit bit-bit-bit
|
|||
|
And crashed the C P U.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(REPEAT CHORUS 1)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(BRIDGE:)
|
|||
|
And while we poke, we virii jive,
|
|||
|
For our big joke,
|
|||
|
we/write/to/your/disk/drive
|
|||
|
O-Oh-no!, O-oh-no!
|
|||
|
Eight years' data - over - flow!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(REPEAT CHORUS 1)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(CHORUS 2:)
|
|||
|
Reset, Reset,
|
|||
|
It's on the net we get,
|
|||
|
Without delete we will repeat,
|
|||
|
Reset, Reset.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(REPEAT CHORUS 1)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(FINISH:)
|
|||
|
I/Oooo, I/Oooo....
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Words copyright Sean Foxfire, 6-17-90
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
*****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
THE ITSY BITSY TEENY WEENY.......
|
|||
|
-Ioseph of Locksley
|
|||
|
(tune: Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weenie)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
She was afraid to come out to the Tourney
|
|||
|
She was worried that "something might show.."
|
|||
|
She was afraid to come out to the Tourney
|
|||
|
And the poor thing did NOT want to go...
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(2 - 3 - 4, tell the people what she wore!)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
It was an itsy bitsy teeny weenie little rabbit fur bikini
|
|||
|
That she wore, for the first time, that day.
|
|||
|
An itsy bitsy teenie weenie little rabbit fur bikini
|
|||
|
And in her apartment she wanted to stay!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
One day in the Kingdom of the Middle
|
|||
|
It happened at a Tourney one day:
|
|||
|
The Mongols invaded the Middle
|
|||
|
But the Middle did not want to play...
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(eins - zwei - drei, but the Dark Horde wouldn't die!)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
It was an itsy bitsy tiny teenie Nauseating Mongol weenie
|
|||
|
That they saw, for the first time, that day.
|
|||
|
An itsy bitsy tiny teenie Nauseating Mongol weenie
|
|||
|
And the Mongols did NOT go away!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Now the Heralds made up a new Rulebook
|
|||
|
And to read it is some kind of gas!
|
|||
|
It's a bureaucrat's dream, this new Rulebook
|
|||
|
Now NOBODY'S blazon can pass!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(Win - Place - Show, tell the Heralds where to go!)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(insert Bronx cheer!)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
I want an itsy bitsy teenie weenie little rabbit fur bikini
|
|||
|
On my shield, as my blazon, today!
|
|||
|
An itsy bitsy teenie weenie little rabbit fur bikini
|
|||
|
But "that's offensive" the Heralds all say!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
I sat down at the Revel last evening
|
|||
|
To a feast of green meat, and Rat Pie...
|
|||
|
It was cold, and disgusting, and greasy
|
|||
|
And I just want to upchuck and die!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(6 - 7 - 8, tell them what was on your plate!)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
It was an itsy bitsy teenie weenie little rabbit fur bikini
|
|||
|
With a side dish of cold cabbage pie!
|
|||
|
An itsy bitsy teenie weenie little rabbit fur bikini
|
|||
|
With the fur on, and NOTHING inside!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(This was written to bug my sweet wife to death
|
|||
|
with...........heheh!)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
words copyright 1989 W.J.Bethancourt III
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
*****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
THE JIMMY SWAGGERT SONG
|
|||
|
Author unknown
|
|||
|
(Tune: "Dick Darby The Cobbler")
|
|||
|
(Recorded: "Celtic Pride: In Strange Form")
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Oh, me name is Jimmy Swaggert, I'm a preacher,
|
|||
|
I used to save souls on TV
|
|||
|
But they caught me carousing with floozies
|
|||
|
And they've taken my program from me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(CHORUS): With me ing twing of an ing thing of an eye do
|
|||
|
W'i me ing twing of an ing thing of an eye day,
|
|||
|
W'i me roo-boo-boo roo-boo-boo randy,
|
|||
|
And me bankroll gets bigger each day!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Well, when I was a lad, ma would scold me
|
|||
|
Sayin' "James, keep your hands off your crotch!"
|
|||
|
Well to do so was "dirty" she told me,
|
|||
|
But she never said I couldn't watch!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Well, they labeled Jim Bakker a pervert,
|
|||
|
And they called me a lecher, it's true;
|
|||
|
Even though I never did nothin'
|
|||
|
I just asked for a room with a view....
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Well, my sorrows they soon will be over,
|
|||
|
And I'll soon be a rich man again,
|
|||
|
For I've just sold my story to Playboy,
|
|||
|
And the movie rights to MGM!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
*****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
THE REAL OLD TIME RELIGION
|
|||
|
words by many, many people....
|
|||
|
(tune: "Old Time Religion" )
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(Chorus): Give me that real old time religion (3X)
|
|||
|
It's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We will have a mighty orgy
|
|||
|
in the honour of Astarte
|
|||
|
it'll be a mighty party
|
|||
|
and it's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We will all be saved by Mithras
|
|||
|
We will all be saved by Mithras
|
|||
|
slay the Bull and play the Zithras
|
|||
|
on that Resurrection Day!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
I hear Valkyries a-comin
|
|||
|
In the air their song is comin
|
|||
|
they forgot the words! They're hummin!
|
|||
|
but they're good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We will venerate Bubastis
|
|||
|
We will venerate Bubastis
|
|||
|
If you want in, then just ask us!
|
|||
|
'cause that's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We will all bow down to Enlil
|
|||
|
We will all bow down to Enlil
|
|||
|
Pass your Cup and get a refill!
|
|||
|
With bold Gilgamesh the Brave!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We will all see Aphrodite
|
|||
|
Though she's pretty wild and flighty
|
|||
|
She will meet us in her nightie
|
|||
|
And she's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
It was good enough for Loki
|
|||
|
It was good enough for Loki
|
|||
|
He thinks Thor's a little hokey
|
|||
|
and that's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Here's to those who copy Conan
|
|||
|
Here's to those who copy Conan
|
|||
|
They're just Followers of Onan
|
|||
|
and that's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We will have a mighty Party
|
|||
|
In the honor of Astarte
|
|||
|
Garb your chiton - don't be tardy
|
|||
|
'Cause she's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Shall we sing a verse for Venus,
|
|||
|
Of the Gods she is the meanest,
|
|||
|
Cause she bit me on my...elbow
|
|||
|
And it's good enough for me.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We will worship like the Druids,
|
|||
|
Drinking strange fermented fluids,
|
|||
|
Running naked through the woo-ids,
|
|||
|
Coz that's good enough for me.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We will sing a verse for Loki
|
|||
|
He's the old Norse god of Chaos
|
|||
|
Which is why this verse don't
|
|||
|
rhyme or scan or nothin'
|
|||
|
But it's good enough for me...
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
It was good for Thor and Odin
|
|||
|
It was good for Thor and Odin
|
|||
|
Grab an axe and get your woad on!
|
|||
|
and it's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Azahoth is in his Chaos
|
|||
|
Azahoth is in his Chaos
|
|||
|
Now if only he don't sway us
|
|||
|
That is good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
If you think that you'll be sav-ed
|
|||
|
If you think that you'll be sav-ed
|
|||
|
If you follow Mogen David
|
|||
|
Then that's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We will sing to Lady Isis
|
|||
|
She'll stand by us in a crisis
|
|||
|
And She hasn't raised Her prices
|
|||
|
And She's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
There are those who, when they've got e-
|
|||
|
Normous problems that are knotty
|
|||
|
They just take them to Hecate
|
|||
|
And that's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Was a time, so I've heard tell, a
|
|||
|
Fine and promising young fella
|
|||
|
Gave his all to serve Cybele
|
|||
|
But that's damn well not for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Well, she raised an awful flurry
|
|||
|
When she made the scholars worry
|
|||
|
Thank the Gods for Margaret Murray!
|
|||
|
She is good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We'll sing praises to Apollo
|
|||
|
Where the Sun-God leads, I'll follow
|
|||
|
From Ionia to Gaul-o
|
|||
|
And that's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Let us sing the praise of Horus
|
|||
|
As our fathers did before us
|
|||
|
We're the New Egyptian Chorus
|
|||
|
And we sing in harmony!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
It was good enough for Granny
|
|||
|
She could throw a double-whammy
|
|||
|
That would knock you on your fanny
|
|||
|
And she's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We will gather at our saunas
|
|||
|
When the spirit comes upon us
|
|||
|
To perform the Rites of Faunus
|
|||
|
And that's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We will worship mighty Cthulhu
|
|||
|
H. P. Lovecraft's big old hoodoo
|
|||
|
(1930's fiction voodoo....)
|
|||
|
But that's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Oh the Phillistines abound
|
|||
|
Oh the Phillistines abound
|
|||
|
They had the biggest Baals around
|
|||
|
And that's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Oh, our Spirits will awaken
|
|||
|
Oh, our Spirits will awaken
|
|||
|
Watch the Universe a-quakin'
|
|||
|
Which is Gurdijeff to me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Let us raise a toast to Bacchus,
|
|||
|
We will raise a royal ruckus,
|
|||
|
Then we'll lay us down and...party
|
|||
|
That's good enough for me.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
It was good enough for Buddha,
|
|||
|
As a god he's kinda cute-a,
|
|||
|
And he comes in brass or pewta'
|
|||
|
So he's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Uncle Crowley was a dreamer
|
|||
|
At the Abbey of Thelema
|
|||
|
But his magic is a screamer,
|
|||
|
So it's good enough for me.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
When the clouds they are a'rumbling
|
|||
|
And the thunder is a'grumbling,
|
|||
|
Then it's Crowley that you're mumbling,
|
|||
|
And it's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
There are some that call it folly
|
|||
|
When we worship Mother Kali.
|
|||
|
She may not be very jolly
|
|||
|
But she's good enough for me.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Shall we sing in praise of Loki,
|
|||
|
Though he left poor Midgard smokey?
|
|||
|
Oh, his sense of humor's hokey,
|
|||
|
But he's good enough for me.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Montezuma liked to start out
|
|||
|
Rites by carrying a part out
|
|||
|
That would really tear your heart out,
|
|||
|
But it's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We will all bow down to Allah
|
|||
|
For he gave his loyal follow
|
|||
|
Ers the mighty petro-dollah
|
|||
|
And that's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We will sacrifice to Yuggoth
|
|||
|
we will sacrifice to Yuggoth
|
|||
|
Burn a candle for Yog-Soggoth
|
|||
|
and the Goat With a Thousand Young!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
If your rising sign is Aries
|
|||
|
You'll be taken by the Fairies
|
|||
|
Meet the Buddah in Benares
|
|||
|
where he'll hit you with a pie!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
There are people into Voodoo
|
|||
|
there are people into Voodoo
|
|||
|
I know I do, I hope you do!
|
|||
|
and it's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We will read from the Kabahlah
|
|||
|
We will read from the Kabahlah
|
|||
|
It won't get us to Valhalla
|
|||
|
But it's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
There are some who practice Shinto
|
|||
|
there are some who practice Shinto
|
|||
|
there's no telling what WE'RE into!
|
|||
|
but that's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We will all sing Hare Krishna
|
|||
|
We will all sing Hare Krishna
|
|||
|
It's not mentioned in the Mishna
|
|||
|
But it's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We will all go to Nirvana
|
|||
|
We will all go to Nirvana
|
|||
|
Make a left turn at Urbana
|
|||
|
And you'll see the Promised Land!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
There will be a lot of lovin
|
|||
|
when we're meetin in our Coven
|
|||
|
Quit yer pushin and yer shovin
|
|||
|
So there's room enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
It was good enough for Sappho
|
|||
|
With her lady on her lap-o
|
|||
|
She put Lesbos on the map-o
|
|||
|
With her pagan poetry!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Well the Christians all are humming
|
|||
|
Cause they say their God is coming,
|
|||
|
Our God came three times this evening
|
|||
|
And that's good enough for me.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Some guys have a circumcision
|
|||
|
On account of their religion,
|
|||
|
An embarrassing incision
|
|||
|
Cut just ENOUGH from me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
It was good for old Jehovah
|
|||
|
He had a son who was a nova!
|
|||
|
Hey there, Mithras! Move on ova'!
|
|||
|
Another resurrection Day!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
It could be that you're a Parsi
|
|||
|
It could be that you're a Parsi
|
|||
|
Don't need a ticket; you get in free
|
|||
|
And that's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Just like Carlos Castenada
|
|||
|
Just like Carlos Castenada
|
|||
|
It'll get you sooner or later
|
|||
|
And that's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Jerry Falwell thinks he's sav-ed
|
|||
|
In a lamb's blood he's been lav-ed
|
|||
|
And HE thinks that I'M deprav-ed
|
|||
|
But that's good enough for me...
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We will all bow down to Dagon
|
|||
|
We will all bow down to Dagon
|
|||
|
He still votes for Ronald Reagan
|
|||
|
And that's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Thanks to great Quetzacoatl
|
|||
|
And his sacred axolotl
|
|||
|
And his gift of chocolatl
|
|||
|
And please pass some down to me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
When old Gerald got it goin'
|
|||
|
When old Gerald got it goin'
|
|||
|
All that hidin' turned to showin'
|
|||
|
And that's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
When we all bowed down to Nuit
|
|||
|
There was really nothin' to it
|
|||
|
(Alex Sanders made me do it...)
|
|||
|
But that's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We went off to worship Venus
|
|||
|
By the Gods! You should have seen us!
|
|||
|
Now the Clinic has to screen us...
|
|||
|
But that's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
It's not good enough for Reagan
|
|||
|
It's not good enough for Reagan
|
|||
|
He's too square to be a Pagan!
|
|||
|
And that's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Meeting at the Witching Hour
|
|||
|
By the Bud, and Branch and Flower
|
|||
|
Folks are raising up the Power
|
|||
|
And that's where I want to be!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
In the sky I hear a hummin'
|
|||
|
It's the UFO's a-comin'
|
|||
|
That's not banjos that they're strummin'
|
|||
|
But it's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Oh we all will follow Buddah
|
|||
|
Oh we all will follow Buddah
|
|||
|
And we'll eat no food but Gouda
|
|||
|
Which is Gouda-nuff for me
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We'll sing praises to Apollo;
|
|||
|
Where the Sun God leads we'll follow
|
|||
|
('Though his head's a little hollow) -
|
|||
|
He's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We will worship Great Cthulhu,
|
|||
|
We will worship Great Cthulhu,
|
|||
|
And we'll feed him Mr. Sulu
|
|||
|
'Cause that's good enough for me
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We all worshipped Dionysus
|
|||
|
'Till we ran into a crisis -
|
|||
|
The bar had raised its prices;
|
|||
|
That's not good enough for me.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We will go and sing "Hosanna"
|
|||
|
To our good ol' pal, Gautama,
|
|||
|
He will never flim or flam ya',
|
|||
|
And that's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Shall we sing a verse for Thor,
|
|||
|
Though he leaves the maidens sore?
|
|||
|
They always come back for more,
|
|||
|
So he's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
It was good enough for Odin
|
|||
|
Though the tremblin' got forbodin'
|
|||
|
Then the giants finally strode in,
|
|||
|
But it's good enough for me.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
There's that lusty old Priapus -
|
|||
|
He's just itching to unwrap us.
|
|||
|
(He'd do more to us than tap us
|
|||
|
And that's good enough for me!)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
It's the Opera written for us
|
|||
|
We will all join in the chorus
|
|||
|
it's the Opera about Boris
|
|||
|
which is Godunov for me.....!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(This is all -I- have of this little gem, collected from both
|
|||
|
songbooks and field collecting. Anyone have any more? Please
|
|||
|
post them for me!)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Joe Bethancourt 1:114/29
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
I was singing Hari Rami
|
|||
|
With my friend the Dalai Lama
|
|||
|
'Til they dumped us in the slammer
|
|||
|
But that's good enough for me.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
--Beth Friedman
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
There are those who worship Loki
|
|||
|
He's the old Norse god of Chaos
|
|||
|
Which is why this verse does not rhyme..
|
|||
|
(pause) Or scan..
|
|||
|
And that's good enough for me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
*****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
THE SCA HAPPY BIRTHDAY SONG
|
|||
|
words by - various anonymous folks
|
|||
|
(tune: "Volga Boatmen")
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Happy Birthday! (UHH!) Happy Birthday! (UHH!)
|
|||
|
Death and gloom and black despair
|
|||
|
People dying everywhere
|
|||
|
Happy Birthday! (UHH!) Happy Birthday! (UHH!)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Now you are the age you are
|
|||
|
Your demise cannot be far
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
May the candles on your cake
|
|||
|
burn like cities in your wake
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Burn the Castle and storm the keep
|
|||
|
Kill the Women but SAVE THE SHEEP!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
May your deeds with sheep and yaks
|
|||
|
equal those with sword and axe
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Your servants steal, your wife's untrue
|
|||
|
Your children plot to murder you
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
They stole your gold, your sword, your house
|
|||
|
They stole your sheep, but not your spouse
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
so you're 29 again
|
|||
|
don't tell lies to your good friend
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
So another year has passed
|
|||
|
don't look now they're gaining fast!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Black Death has just struck your town
|
|||
|
you yourself feel quite run-down
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Fear and gloom and darkness but
|
|||
|
no one found out YOU KNOW WHAT
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
You're a period cook, its true
|
|||
|
ask the beetles in the stew
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Now your jail-bait days are done
|
|||
|
let's go out and have some fun!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
You must marry very soon
|
|||
|
baby's due the next full moon
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Were I sitting in your shoes
|
|||
|
I'd go out and sing the blues
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Tho you're turning 29
|
|||
|
age to you is like fine wine
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Now you've lived another year
|
|||
|
age to you is like stale beer
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Long ago your hair turned grey
|
|||
|
now it's falling out, they say
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
It's your birthday never fear
|
|||
|
You'll be dead this time next year
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We brought linen, white as cloud
|
|||
|
Now we'll sit and sew your shroud!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
*****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
YOU'VE LOST ALL SENSE OF FEELING
|
|||
|
words by Fernando Vergil, Fred Leiner, and Jeff Howe
|
|||
|
(tune: "You've Lost That Loving Feeling")
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
You never close your eyes any more when I hit your helm
|
|||
|
You've been beat upon by knights of a dozen realms
|
|||
|
You're trying hard not to show it (turkey)
|
|||
|
But squire, the marshals all know it
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
CHORUS:
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
You've lost all sense of feeling
|
|||
|
All sense of feeling
|
|||
|
That blow should have you reeling
|
|||
|
But it's tip, glance, light blow-wo-wo-oh
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
There's no acknowledgement in your eyes when my blows land true
|
|||
|
And your mangled helm shows the world what you're coming to
|
|||
|
You know I just feel like dying (turkey)
|
|||
|
'Cause squire, I'm tird of trying
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
CHORUS
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Squire, squire, I'd get down on my knees to you
|
|||
|
If you would only take the blows like you used to do
|
|||
|
We had a bout, a bout, a bout that took all day
|
|||
|
So don't, don't, don't shrug my blows away
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Squire (turkey), squire (turkey)
|
|||
|
I'm begging you please, please, please
|
|||
|
Please take that blow
|
|||
|
It's good, I know
|
|||
|
Please take that blow
|
|||
|
It's good, I know...
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Bring back your sense of feeling
|
|||
|
Your sense of feeling
|
|||
|
Bring back your sense of feeling
|
|||
|
No more tip, glance, light
|
|||
|
Or you should not fight any more
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Bring back your sense of feeling
|
|||
|
Marshals' courts aren't appealing
|
|||
|
Bring back your sense of feeling
|
|||
|
No more tip, glance, light blow-wo-wo-oh
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
--end of file---
|
|||
|
|