1657 lines
48 KiB
Plaintext
1657 lines
48 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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TWELVE
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----------------------------------------------------------------
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The twelfth 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, January 1992. 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 (and how much time
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I have to compile this thing....)
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----------------------------------------------------------------
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"12-Bar Filkin' Blues"
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by Jim Edmonds
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I think Muddie Murcury did one way back in the early 90's:
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I got twits in mah echo
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I got bugs in ma beer
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Say got twits in ma echo
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I got bugs in ma beer
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An' this thred makes ma heart weary
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Sho' be buggin filkers round here.
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I'm a lonesome lil' sysop
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Hang in ma 'drasiltree
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I'm a lonely lil' sysop
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Hangin ma 'drasiltree
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An' dees twitters keep on yakkin'
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Lawd know's dey sho' be bodduh me.
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Cause I'm eville, honey dahlin
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Eville as the dragonne's bones
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O I'm eville, metal pumpkin
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Eville as the day is lawng
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Don' be messin' roun' with me baybah
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I'm eville as ma filkin' sawng.
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(Or something like that.)
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****
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ATEN MAN
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Words: Ioseph of Locksley
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Tune: "Irish Soldier Laddie"
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CHORUS: Will you stand in the van like a true Aten man
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And hold the line for Kingdom and for Crown?
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Will you fight and never yield on Estrella's battlefield?
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For today's the day we're takin' Caid down!
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As I stood in a crowd I saw a valiant laddie walkin'
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With his armour and his sword down a quiet country lane
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He smiled and he waved and he bespoke me truly
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He beckoned and he called to me by name:
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On a quiet village street stood a bowman strong and hearty
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As he bade a fond farewell to his pretty peasant lass
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And his eyes were flashin' bright as he bent his head and kissed
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her
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And these words he said beneath the partin' glass:
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Came a knight upon his steed, with his squires ridin' after
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With his pennon and his lance and his shinin' silver mail
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With his Lady's Favour hangin' from his belt of leather
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And passin' close he smiled and bade me "Hail!"
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In a sunny castle hall, with her minstrels and her maidens,
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Stood a Lady, strong and proud, with a fire in her eyes
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"If my King is off to war, what can I but fight beside him?"
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She raised her sword, and shouted to the skies:
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From city and from township, from Barony and Marches
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Come the men of Aten's land with a fire in their eyes
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Atenveldt and Loch Sallan, Mons Tinitrus and SunDragon,
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And a hundred thousand others 'neath the sky!
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words (c) copyright 1991 W.J.Bethancourt III
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****
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The Bug Came Back
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Words: Joel Polowin
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Tune: Music: "The Cat Came Back"
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The program wasn't complex, and it wasn't very long,
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Though it seemed a bit erratic, its results were seldom wrong.
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But that little error nagged us, so we stayed up late one night -
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Found a missing comma, and we thought that fixed it right -
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(Chorus:)
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But the bug came back, the very next day
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The bug came back, we thought it was a gonner
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But the bug came back, it just wouldn't stay away.
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We put away our documents, rewrote the code from scratch
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To find out where the new and older versions didn't match.
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A subtle shift of logic showed where we had gone astray;
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We felt a bit embarrassed, but at least it ran okay -
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(Chorus)
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We wrote in other languages, from FORTH to APL
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And ev'ry one ran ev'ry time - just sometimes not too well.
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Translation to assembler didn't give us any clue;
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The COBOL version crashed on ev'ry system it went through -
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(Chorus)
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We gave it to the hacker squad - the folks who code for fun -
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And asked them if they couldn't get the stupid thing to run.
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But less than one week later, they no longer wished to play -
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Three paranoids... one suicide... and six who ran away...
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(Chorus)
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We got a summer student in to check the code by hand,
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With paper, pen and calculator, run through each command,
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But suddenly the lights went out -- the air went thin and queer
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--
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A sudden FLASH! of lightning -- and the student... disappeared..?
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(Chorus)
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(Last verse and associated alternate chorus are optional:)
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We set up an experiment that Schrodinger inspired:
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A box; a cat; some poison; a computer system wired
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Such that IF the program failed, the little moggy would be
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gassed.
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A quasar was - almost - the only remnant of the blast...
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But the cat came back the very next day
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The bug came back, we thought they were a gonner
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But they both came back, they just wouldn't stay away
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---------------
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Words copyright (C) 1991 by Joel Polowin. Permission is hereby
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granted to reproduce this material in any non-profit medium pro-
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vided that its content is not altered and that this notice is
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appended. I would appreciate receiving a copy of any publication
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in which it appears: Joel Polowin / 205 Toronto St. / Kingston,
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Ontario / CANADA / K7L 4A9 polowin@silicon.chem.QueensU.CA,
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polowinj@qucdn.QueensU.CA
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****
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COLD WARRIOR'S LAMENT
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words:Dr Pepper
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Tune: My Bonnie
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My commies lie fallen around me
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I think it's a terrible shame
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Cause now if the world should confound me
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I have no more commies to blame
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Chorus:
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Bring back, bring back,
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O bring back my commies to me, to me!
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Bring back, bring back,
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O bring back my commies to me!
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The war factory bosses are crying
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I think they have lost their aplomb
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Sell more weapons? there's no use in trying
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Without any commies to bomb
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Chorus
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The third world right wing despots tell me
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Their death squads are fighting a threat
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But how do they think they can sell me?
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Their commie excuse is all wet
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Chorus
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Last night as i lay on my pillow
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A brand new spy novel i read
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About. japanese. stealing a patent...
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The world as i knew it is dead!
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Chorus
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My ideological fervor
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Has outlived its purpose i fear
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I thought this would go on forever
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Fidel, let me buy you a beer!
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Chorus
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words copyright Dr Pepper, 1991
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****
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CONFRANCISCO
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Words: Dr Pepper
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Tune: "Are you going to San Francisco"
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If you're going to Confrancisco
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Be sure to wear a tribble in your hair
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If you're going to Confrancisco
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You're gonna meet some freaky people there
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For when you go to Confrancisco
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Watch out for people floating in mid air
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In the halls of Confrancisco
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Fen in costume who don't care if you stare
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All across the fandom
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Plans get changed at random
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Such a commotion (mmm) Such a commotion
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It's a whole convocation
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With it's own affectation
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Such a commotion (mmm) Such a commotion
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If you're going to Confrancisco
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Be sure to wear a tribble in your hair
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If you come to Confrancisco
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All your time will be bizarre and rare
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(other suitable words can be substituted for tribble. Like trif-
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fid, sandworm, tardis, dragon, etc)
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words copyright Dr Pepper, 1991
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****
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CTHULU LOVES
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Words: Farrell McGovern
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Tune: Jesus Loves the Little Children
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Cthulu loves the little children
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All the Children of the World
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Red and Yellow, Black and White
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They make Equal Sacrifice!
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Cthulu loves the little children of the World...
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words copyright Farrell McGovern 1991
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****
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DUELING HERALDS
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Words: Ioseph of Locksley
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Tune: "Dueling Banjos"
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This takes the form of a duet between two Heralds.....
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My Lords and Ladies, pray attend
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(My Lords and Ladies, pray attend)
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Hush your speech and pray forfend!
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(Hush your speech and pray forfend!)
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From interrupting Royal Court!
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(From interrupting Royal Court!)
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We'll truly try to keep this short!
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(We'll truly try to keep this short!)
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His Majesty
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(His Majesty)
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Wishes Me
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(Wishes Me)
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To announce announcements to you all
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(To announce announcements to you all)
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To attend His Presence in this Hall
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(To attend His Presence in this Hall)
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[together to "Yankee Doodle" theme:]
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His Majesty commands you all
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Draw nigh and pray attend....for....
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[single herald sings:]
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Please remember leave the site as clean as clean can be
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[And do not] smoke within the Hall, for it's not period, you see
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[And try to] speak forsoothly to the gentles partying tonight
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[For we're the] SCA, and we're the ones who try to get it right!
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My Lords and Ladies, pray attend
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(My Lords and Ladies, pray attend)
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We as Heralds condescend
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(We as Heralds condescend)
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To blazon forth the finest Arms
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(To blazon forth the finest Arms)
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That ever graced a Kingdom's charms
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(That ever graced a Kingdom's charms)
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Cheqy bendy plumetty
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(Cheqy bendy plumetty)
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Gyronny!
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(Arondy!)
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I believe, sir, you have got it wrong!
|
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(But that's how Locksley wrote the song!)
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[together to "Yankee Doodle" theme:]
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His Majesty commands you all
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Draw nigh and pray attend....for....
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[the second Herald sings:]
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Three spiders rampant passant statant on a field of green
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Surrounded by a bordure compony is what we mean
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Engorged with crowns of several kinds, and que-fourchee to boot
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And charged with Fleurs-de-Lis in pink
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[spoken: "In pink?"
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"Well, it -could- have been flamingos!"]
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And semee'd in bandicoots!
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[both: "ARRGGGHHH!"]
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My Lords and Ladies, pray attend
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(My Lords and Ladies, pray attend)
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And please do not misapprehend
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(And please do not misapprehend)
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For we in our pomposity
|
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(For we in our pomposity)
|
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Perpetuate atrocity
|
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|
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(Perpetuate atrocity)
|
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By singing you this awful song
|
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(By singing you this awful song)
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We know that it is much too long!
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(We know that it is much too long!)
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His Majesty
|
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Is kicking me!
|
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So we'll shut up and take our leave
|
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(So we'll shut up and take our leave)
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So we'll shut up and take our leave
|
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(So we'll shut up and take our leave)
|
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(fade out and sneak off, if possible....)
|
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|
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(c) words copyright 1991 W.J.Bethancourt III
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****
|
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DER FUEHRER'S FACE fragment
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Words & Tune: Spike Jones
|
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|
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Vhen der Fuehrer says,
|
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"Ve is der master race!"
|
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Ve heil! <razz> Heil! <razz>
|
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Right in der Fuehrer's face.
|
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To not be Cherman
|
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|
Is a big disgrace,
|
|||
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Zo ve heil! <razz> Heil! <razz>
|
|||
|
Right in der Fuehrer's face!
|
|||
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|
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|
presumably copyright Spike Jones in the early 40s.
|
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|
|||
|
****
|
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|
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|
FLAT EARTH filk start
|
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Words: Sherman Dorn
|
|||
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|
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|
If you watch Maury Povich or Inside Edition
|
|||
|
and think up each day new conspiracy theories,
|
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|
there's a group ready-made to feed your suspicion,
|
|||
|
boost your blood pressure, and wake up your Furies.
|
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|
|||
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We all really know that the Earth is quite flat.
|
|||
|
Though Newton commanded, the globe went a-splat.
|
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|
The Challenger blew
|
|||
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but some already knew
|
|||
|
---
|
|||
|
[author now looking for a good last line to this verse and a few
|
|||
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more verses too. Anyone want to assist?]
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
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|
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|
FOUND IN AN EMPTY CHAIR IN A FILKSING, 1995
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Go quietly amid the SCA members and remember what joy there is in
|
|||
|
keeping your head upon your shoulders. As far as possible with-
|
|||
|
out surrender be on good terms with all persons, For you may
|
|||
|
someday need crash space. Speak your truth quietly and clearly,
|
|||
|
and listen to others--even to the dull and ignorant--Unless, of
|
|||
|
course, they want to tell you about their D&D characters, deep
|
|||
|
underlying meanings in Dr. Who, or the endings of movies you
|
|||
|
haven't seen yet. Avoid loud and aggressive persons--in short,
|
|||
|
stay out of the filk suite. If you compare yourself to others
|
|||
|
you may become vain or bitter--in your case, probably bitter.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Keep interested in your own career, for no one else is. Exercise
|
|||
|
caution in the Dealer's Room, for you may find it cheaper on
|
|||
|
someone else's table--but probably not. And let this not keep
|
|||
|
you from forking over the cash, For you know you're going to buy
|
|||
|
the damn thing in the end.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the
|
|||
|
things of youth: rabbit-fur Barbarian costumes and spandex come
|
|||
|
first to mind. Nurture your credit cards to shield you in times
|
|||
|
of sudden bankruptcy. But do not distress your self with dark
|
|||
|
imaginings--it's probably just something you drank--for many cons
|
|||
|
are born of fatigue and light beer.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself, Unless
|
|||
|
you can find someone else to do it for you.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
You are an attendee of the convention, you paid your fifteen
|
|||
|
bucks and have a right to be here. And whether or not it looks
|
|||
|
like it, the convention is unfolding as well as can be expected.
|
|||
|
Therefore, be at peace with God, and hope that the televangelists
|
|||
|
aren't right or we're all in deep doo-doo. And whatever your
|
|||
|
labors and aspirations in the noisy confusion of the consuite,
|
|||
|
Keep your hands to your self. With all its lack of ice, screwed-
|
|||
|
up film schedules, and broken elevators, it's still the only game
|
|||
|
in town. Live long and prosper, open the bay doors, use the
|
|||
|
force, and DON'T PANIC.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Copyright 1990, Randy Farran and Lisa Berry Farran
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
This is printed by permission and may be reproduced (for hobby,
|
|||
|
fandom newsletters, or similar basically non-profit purposes) as
|
|||
|
long as the copyright notice is maintained. Randy and Lisa would
|
|||
|
appreciate copies of publications in which it is printed
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
c/o Curtis Berry
|
|||
|
3104 West 39 Street
|
|||
|
Tulsa, OK 74107
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
I AM A JOCK
|
|||
|
Words:Rhys ap Baruch
|
|||
|
Tune: "I Am a Rock", Simon & Garfunkel
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
An August day
|
|||
|
In a Pennsic field battle
|
|||
|
I am surrounded
|
|||
|
Gazing at the shieldwall
|
|||
|
Advancing on my right
|
|||
|
And from the left there comes a hostile knight
|
|||
|
I am a jock, I am a fighter
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Castle walls
|
|||
|
A fortress great and mighty
|
|||
|
That we must penetrate
|
|||
|
We have no need of sappers
|
|||
|
They just get in the way
|
|||
|
Hand me my sword and I'll carry the day
|
|||
|
I am a jock, I am a fighter
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Don't talk of dance
|
|||
|
Embroidery or research
|
|||
|
I want none of that
|
|||
|
I only live for steel
|
|||
|
Duct tape and rattan
|
|||
|
The beer is cold and I'm a fighting man
|
|||
|
I am a jock, I am a fighter
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
I have my spear
|
|||
|
And a shieldman to protect me
|
|||
|
I am sweating in my armour
|
|||
|
Fighting in the field
|
|||
|
We will never yield
|
|||
|
I slay them all and no one touches me
|
|||
|
I am a jock, I am a fighter
|
|||
|
And a jock feels no pain
|
|||
|
Even when he dies
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(c) 1991, Ian Klinck
|
|||
|
Permission is freely given to reproduce and/or publish this work
|
|||
|
for non-profit purposes within the Society for Creative Anachro-
|
|||
|
nism, Inc., provided proper credit is given.
|
|||
|
Permission is also given to make minor changes to the lyrics, to
|
|||
|
make the work more appropriate for the local group. (i.e. substi-
|
|||
|
tute "Eastrealm" for "Midrealm" or vice-versa)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Rhys ap Baruch, of the Cantons of Eoforwic and Bryniau Tywynnog,
|
|||
|
Barony of Septentria, Principality of Ealdormere, Kingdom of the
|
|||
|
Middle
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
I'M AN AZI
|
|||
|
Words: Dr Pepper
|
|||
|
Tune: Feeling Groovy
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Vat grown, and brought up fast
|
|||
|
I'm not the first and not the last
|
|||
|
Just-- soaking up all those hypno tapes
|
|||
|
Life is a plan and i'm an Azi
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
At my work i'm-- never lazy
|
|||
|
Miss my tape, and i go crazy
|
|||
|
Kill me when i'm obsolete
|
|||
|
I won't make a fuss cuz i'm an Azi
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
I've got no subconscious,
|
|||
|
No phobias deep
|
|||
|
I'm programmed and analyzed,
|
|||
|
All in my sleep
|
|||
|
Psychotherapy's just like a tune up for me
|
|||
|
Of course i love you-- i'm an Azi
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
words copyright Dr Pepper 1991
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Lives
|
|||
|
Words: Lynn Gold
|
|||
|
Tune: "Lies" by Stan Rogers
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
G D
|
|||
|
At last the boss is gone now for the day
|
|||
|
Em C G D
|
|||
|
The hackers do their projects when the management's away
|
|||
|
G D
|
|||
|
They leave some time to write some code and plan
|
|||
|
Em C G D
|
|||
|
From five until five-thirty, when they swap files on the LAN
|
|||
|
G D
|
|||
|
Sure was a bitter beta, but this release is fine, and
|
|||
|
Em C
|
|||
|
Maybe last year's Easter egg will pop up one more time
|
|||
|
G D
|
|||
|
It's now 5:29, oh how time flies
|
|||
|
Am D G
|
|||
|
The hackers all rush home 'cause they got lives
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(CHORUS)
|
|||
|
Am C
|
|||
|
Oh lives
|
|||
|
G D
|
|||
|
They rush home, the hackers all got lives
|
|||
|
Am C D C
|
|||
|
Lives, all lives
|
|||
|
G
|
|||
|
Too much time staring into space
|
|||
|
A C
|
|||
|
That could be spent with S-Os, husbands, wives
|
|||
|
D G
|
|||
|
The hackers, they got lives
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
G D
|
|||
|
They used to hack long days at work and then
|
|||
|
Em C G D
|
|||
|
They'd go home to their term'nals and start hacking once again
|
|||
|
G D
|
|||
|
No need to search to find them through the years
|
|||
|
Em C G
|
|||
|
D
|
|||
|
They haunted the control rooms where machine noise filled their
|
|||
|
ears
|
|||
|
G D
|
|||
|
But then they all found networks with other hackers there
|
|||
|
Em C
|
|||
|
And found there was a world outside beyond their term'nal's glare
|
|||
|
G D
|
|||
|
Well, after seeing this, it's no surprise
|
|||
|
Am D G
|
|||
|
The hackers all went out and they got lives.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(CHORUS)
|
|||
|
Am C
|
|||
|
Oh lives
|
|||
|
G D
|
|||
|
They rush home, the hackers all got lives
|
|||
|
Am C D C
|
|||
|
Lives, all lives
|
|||
|
G
|
|||
|
Too much time staring into space
|
|||
|
A C
|
|||
|
That could be spent with S-Os, husbands, wives
|
|||
|
D G
|
|||
|
The hackers, they got lives
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
G D
|
|||
|
Now they rush off from work to be with friends
|
|||
|
Em C G D
|
|||
|
They all have home computers which they pick up now and then
|
|||
|
G D
|
|||
|
They make sure that the code they just wrote ran,
|
|||
|
Em C G D
|
|||
|
Pour themselves some coffee, or some caffeine from a can
|
|||
|
G D
|
|||
|
And think ahead to Friday, 'cause payday will be fine!
|
|||
|
Em C
|
|||
|
They look up at their ancient code and ponder, line by line
|
|||
|
G D
|
|||
|
Then through direct deposit pay arrives
|
|||
|
Am D G
|
|||
|
And helps them to finance their newfound lives.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(CHORUS)
|
|||
|
Am C
|
|||
|
Oh lives
|
|||
|
G D
|
|||
|
They rush home, the hackers all got lives
|
|||
|
Am C D C
|
|||
|
Lives, all lives
|
|||
|
G
|
|||
|
Too much time staring into space
|
|||
|
A C
|
|||
|
That could be spent with S-Os, husbands, wives
|
|||
|
D G
|
|||
|
The hackers, they got lives
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
words (c) 1991 Lynn Gold
|
|||
|
music (c) 1981 Stan Rogers
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
MAMAS, DON'T LET YOUR BABIES GROW UP TO BE HACKERS
|
|||
|
Words: Mike Van Pelt
|
|||
|
Tune: Willie Nelson and/or Waylon Jennings, I think.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Hackers ain't easy to love and they're harder to stand
|
|||
|
They'd rather play with a gizmo that's made out of sand.
|
|||
|
Never wear neckties, just old faded levis,
|
|||
|
And each night begins a new day.
|
|||
|
You can't understand him, and you won't until
|
|||
|
The F.B.I takes him away.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
<Chorus>
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Mammas, don't let your babies grow up to be hackers.
|
|||
|
Don't let 'em hack UNIX, if they try, revolt!
|
|||
|
Don't let 'em eat Twinkies, don't let 'em drink Jolt.
|
|||
|
Mammas, don't let your babies grow up to be hackers.
|
|||
|
'Cause they'll always stay home in their room all alone,
|
|||
|
Interfaced to their silicon love.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Hackers like frigid machine rooms and bleary eyed mornings
|
|||
|
Little warm RAM chips and things that go 'beep' in the night.
|
|||
|
Them that don't know him won't trust him
|
|||
|
and them that do trust him to unleash a virus. (*)
|
|||
|
He ain't bad or amoral, but his pride won't let him
|
|||
|
turn back from an elegant hack.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
<Chorus>
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
<Repeat chorus (modified)>
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Mammas, don't let your babies grow up if they're hackers.
|
|||
|
Some day they'll hack NORAD and start World War III
|
|||
|
The world is a gonner if you let them be.
|
|||
|
Mammas, don't let your babies grow up to be hackers.
|
|||
|
'Cause they'll always stay home in their room all alone,
|
|||
|
Interfaced to their silicon love.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(* This really doesn't look like it scans, but it works the
|
|||
|
same way as the original.)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
words copyright Mike Van Pelt, 1991
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
The Minstrel Boy
|
|||
|
Words: Thomas More
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
The minstrel boy to the war has gone
|
|||
|
In the ranks of death you will find him
|
|||
|
His father's sword he has girded on
|
|||
|
And his wild harp slung behind him.
|
|||
|
Land of Song, said the warrior bard
|
|||
|
tho all the world betray thee
|
|||
|
One sword at least thy rights shall guard
|
|||
|
One faithful harp shall praise thee!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
The minstrel fell, but the foeman's chain
|
|||
|
Could not bring that proud soul under
|
|||
|
The harp he loved never spoke again
|
|||
|
For he tore it's chords asunder
|
|||
|
And he said no chain shall sully thee
|
|||
|
Thou soul of love and bravery!
|
|||
|
Thy songs were made for the pure and free
|
|||
|
They shall never sound in slavery!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
[this poem can be found in any good book of poetry! ]
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
The Moderator's Song
|
|||
|
Words: Dr Pepper
|
|||
|
Tune: Gilbert & Sullivan
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Our moderator, patient soul
|
|||
|
When she this place first took control
|
|||
|
Said motivation was her role
|
|||
|
She'd not be heavy handed
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
So in a gentle tone declared
|
|||
|
That all opinions may be shared
|
|||
|
Provided that no flames are aired
|
|||
|
That's all that she demanded
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
And i expect that you'll agree
|
|||
|
That she showed sensibility
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
And i am right and you are right
|
|||
|
And all is right as it should be
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Then someone brought up rights for gays
|
|||
|
That brought a flood of yeas and nays
|
|||
|
Two hundred posts in twenty days
|
|||
|
Without a new perspective
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
And next abortion right or wrong
|
|||
|
And gun control, the same old song
|
|||
|
For novel discourse she did long
|
|||
|
Not stale retrospective
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
And you'll think, i anticipate
|
|||
|
Such longings were appropriate
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
And i am right and you are right
|
|||
|
And all is right and really great
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
words copyright Dr Pepper, 1991
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
MR MARSHAL
|
|||
|
Words: Rhys ap Baruch
|
|||
|
Tune: "Mr. Sandman"
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Mr. Marshal, please let me fight
|
|||
|
I'm sure my armour must be alright
|
|||
|
Sure, there's a gap from my knee to my hip
|
|||
|
And that hole will admit a thrusting tip
|
|||
|
But Mr. Marshal, It's one month 'til War
|
|||
|
I've never been down to Pennsic before
|
|||
|
Yes, a hero I will be!
|
|||
|
Mr. Marshal, authorize me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(repeat)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Mr. Marshal, please let me fight
|
|||
|
I really wanna become a knight
|
|||
|
I'll fight all day, and I won't go down
|
|||
|
I'll swear fealty to the crown!
|
|||
|
Mr. Marshal, you've gotta sign here
|
|||
|
I'll bribe you with money, I'll bribe you with beer
|
|||
|
You'll see how grateful I will be,
|
|||
|
Mr. Marshal, authorize me!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(c) 1991, Ian Klinck
|
|||
|
Permission is freely given to reproduce and/or publish this work
|
|||
|
for non-profit purposes within the Society for Creative Anachro-
|
|||
|
nism, Inc., provided proper credit is given.
|
|||
|
Permission is also given to make minor changes to the lyrics, to
|
|||
|
make the work more appropriate for the local group. (i.e. substi-
|
|||
|
tute "Eastrealm" for "Midrealm" or vice-versa)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Rhys ap Baruch, of the Cantons of Eoforwic and Bryniau Tywynnog,
|
|||
|
Barony of Septentria, Principality of Ealdormere, Kingdom of the
|
|||
|
Middle
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
"The New Generation Tango"
|
|||
|
Words: Sherman Dorn
|
|||
|
Tune: The Masochism Tango
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Trek slakes my desire for pulp fiction.
|
|||
|
Watching bad episodes is an addiction.
|
|||
|
Some stories inspire
|
|||
|
but most plots require
|
|||
|
the disposal of all science and reason.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
I love when the crew is encumbered
|
|||
|
with problems too many to number.
|
|||
|
Trek solves it all fine
|
|||
|
at 6:59,
|
|||
|
even doing it without Wes this season.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(bridge)
|
|||
|
At Gene's command
|
|||
|
before the set I stand,
|
|||
|
brick ready in my hand.
|
|||
|
It's sad that we must see
|
|||
|
Riker's romance
|
|||
|
and sappy song-and-dance,
|
|||
|
Not a woman's vig'rous stance
|
|||
|
And a well-placed upthrust knee.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
So bore me to tears with emoting Troi,
|
|||
|
and drive me to randomly remoting joy
|
|||
|
with that cliched mix
|
|||
|
of dialog schtick.
|
|||
|
Relief comes only with Lwaxana's coy boy toys.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(bridge)
|
|||
|
The Klingons thrill
|
|||
|
me when a villain kills
|
|||
|
someone just in time to fill
|
|||
|
the space 'twixt writers' ears.
|
|||
|
I love Worf's grunts
|
|||
|
and elaborate plot hunts
|
|||
|
and some pyrotechnic stunts
|
|||
|
but no thoughts there, don't you fear.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Take the VHS cassette from its holder,
|
|||
|
And ruin my taste until it molders.
|
|||
|
Rot out my brain
|
|||
|
and make me scream again
|
|||
|
As we watch to the Next Generation Tango.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
QUEEN TANGWYSTL
|
|||
|
Words: Rhys ap Baruch
|
|||
|
Tune: "Mrs. Robinson", Simon and Garfunkel
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Dee dee dee-dee . . .
|
|||
|
Doo doo-doo doo . . .
|
|||
|
Dee dee-dee dee . . .
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
CHORUS:
|
|||
|
Wassail to you, Queen Tangwystl
|
|||
|
I live in constant fear of your crossbow (wo wo wo)
|
|||
|
Don't shoot me please Queen Tangwystl
|
|||
|
You're the queen who has to be obeyed (hey hey hey hey hey hey)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We'd like to do a little bit to get in your good books
|
|||
|
If there's anything you'd like just help yourself
|
|||
|
Look around you, all you see are very frightened eyes
|
|||
|
We would never think of breaking any oath
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
CHORUS.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
King David's in a hiding-place that no one knows about
|
|||
|
Is it in the pantry or the dungeon?
|
|||
|
It's a sheepish secret, just a Feringold affair
|
|||
|
Most of all, you've got to hide it from the lambs
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
CHORUS (change first line to:)
|
|||
|
Cu-cu ca-chu Queen Tangwystl . . .
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Sitting on your throne on a sunny afternoon
|
|||
|
Handing out a couple AoA's
|
|||
|
Load your crossbow, shoot the herald, sing another song
|
|||
|
When you're Queen, you can't be wrong
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Where have you gone, Duke Cariadoc
|
|||
|
The Midrealm turns its frightened eyes to you (woo woo woo)
|
|||
|
What's that you say Queen Tangwystl?
|
|||
|
Cariadoc is not the one who reigns (hey hey hey, we must obey)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
A copy of this song was (informally) presented to Her Most Royal
|
|||
|
and Draconian Majesty in the marketplace at Pennsic XX (after
|
|||
|
much time spent trying to get an "official" appointment). HRM had
|
|||
|
heard of the song beforehand, and, upon receipt of the printed
|
|||
|
copy, handed it to one of her attendants and said, "Here, read
|
|||
|
it. It's a good one." I take this to be Royal approval for the
|
|||
|
circulation of this song.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(c) 1991, Ian Klinck
|
|||
|
Permission is freely given to reproduce and/or publish this work
|
|||
|
for non-profit purposes within the Society for Creative Anachro-
|
|||
|
nism, Inc., provided proper credit is given.
|
|||
|
Permission is also given to make minor changes to the lyrics, to
|
|||
|
make the work more appropriate for the local group. (i.e. substi-
|
|||
|
tute "Eastrealm" for "Midrealm" or vice-versa)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Rhys ap Baruch, of the Cantons of Eoforwic and Bryniau Tywynnog,
|
|||
|
Barony of Septentria, Principality of Ealdormere, Kingdom of the
|
|||
|
Middle
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
THE ROSES OF OUR LADY
|
|||
|
Words: Ioseph of Locksley
|
|||
|
Tune: "Roses Of Prince Charlie"
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
CHORUS: Come now, gather now, here where the flowers grow!
|
|||
|
Bright is the blossom as the eyes of your love!
|
|||
|
Hear now a Kingdom's call! We'll make a solemn vow,
|
|||
|
Now by the Roses of Our Lady!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Fight again with shining sword and bright-emblazoned shield!
|
|||
|
Fight beside the heroes of Estrella's bloody field!
|
|||
|
Fight again and hold the line and never, ever yield!
|
|||
|
Fight beneath the Roses of Our Lady!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Spirits of the Dreamers in far and distant lands
|
|||
|
Carved out the Known Worlde with sweat and blood and hands
|
|||
|
Come now, in glory, and on the silver sand,
|
|||
|
Fight by the Roses of Our Lady!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Take your strength from the summer Sun that boldly blazes forth
|
|||
|
The deserts of the Southlands and the mountains of the North
|
|||
|
Stand fast together, let's show them what we're worth!
|
|||
|
Stand by the Roses of Our Lady!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
CHORUS 2X
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(c) words copyright 1991 W.J. Bethancourt III
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
The Shaving Cream song
|
|||
|
words: Joey McKangaroo
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Melvin was a baseball player,
|
|||
|
The fans soon took him to his favor,
|
|||
|
For he was the hottest hitter on the teeeam...
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
But all that was on Melvin's mind,
|
|||
|
was the hopes someday, someone would sign (him)
|
|||
|
Up to do commercials for some,
|
|||
|
Shaving Cream! HEY!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Chorus: (sped up)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Shaving cream, shaving cream,
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
That was Melvin's only dream,
|
|||
|
While he wasn'tinterestedinthe hall of fame,
|
|||
|
He actually hit it in the baseball game,
|
|||
|
Just wanted to do commercials for some,
|
|||
|
Shaving Cream! HEY!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(A little Russian Chorus here...)
|
|||
|
Melvin's batting average started, average...
|
|||
|
(That's English!)
|
|||
|
Melvin's batting average started riiising...
|
|||
|
The fans soon started recogniiizing (him,)
|
|||
|
And one day he realized his dream...
|
|||
|
(Back: He realized his dreeeeam....)
|
|||
|
For a man from B-B-D and O (The advertising agency)
|
|||
|
With a fountain pen, (... and a lotta dough)
|
|||
|
Signed him up for commercials for some
|
|||
|
Shaving Cream, HEY!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
CHORUS.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Residuals and Salaries,
|
|||
|
Made Melvin as rich as he could be!
|
|||
|
But things weren't all that they might seeem...
|
|||
|
(Back: As they might seeeeemm....)
|
|||
|
For Melvin wasn't very.. bright (heh heh)
|
|||
|
And he had to stay awake AAALLL NIGHT!
|
|||
|
Oh, Doing those darn commercials for that,
|
|||
|
Shaving Cream, HEY!!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
CHORUS.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
FOURTH VERSE: (I think it's the funniest)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
But wait! Sadness Has Struck!
|
|||
|
(Twiddle the strings on the guitar)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Melvin's batting average started dropping,
|
|||
|
(Whistle downward) ...ah...
|
|||
|
The tickets and fans started stopping...
|
|||
|
And his value for commercials lost it's gleam...
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Back: It lost it's gleam and Clescent Pepsodent tooooooooooooOOO-
|
|||
|
OOOooOOOOooo,OOOOOooooOOOooooooooo, (I'll wait till you're fin-
|
|||
|
ished)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo hurryupI'mrunningouto-
|
|||
|
faiiiiirrrr....
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Front: Don't clap, it encourages him! (both start laughing)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Anyway, it lost its, you know what...
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
So with no future, and with no hope...
|
|||
|
(Old man starts sobbing)
|
|||
|
He lathered up, and he slit his throat (KGKKGKGLLL!!! (can be
|
|||
|
made
|
|||
|
by squeezing air out of the side of your mouth))
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Doing his last commercial for that
|
|||
|
Shaving Cream! HEY!!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Repeat Chorus twice.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
end abruptly....!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
words copyright Joey McKangaroo, 1991
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
SHAVING CYBERPUNK verse
|
|||
|
Words: Sherman Dorn
|
|||
|
Tune: Shaving Cream
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Cyberpunk,
|
|||
|
listening to funk.
|
|||
|
Write every day
|
|||
|
and you'll look like a hunk.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
words copyright Sherman Dorn 1991
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
"THE SOUND OF VIOLENCE"
|
|||
|
Words: Rhys ap Baruch and Blaine Sylvan
|
|||
|
Tune: "The Sound of Silence", Simon and Garfunkel
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Hello broadsword my old friend
|
|||
|
I've come to fight with you again
|
|||
|
Because the sounds of battle ringing
|
|||
|
In my ears has me singing
|
|||
|
And the rock that I have instead of a brain
|
|||
|
Still remains
|
|||
|
I love the sound of violence
|
|||
|
In tournaments I fight alone
|
|||
|
I leave my melee gear at home
|
|||
|
But when I go down to the Pennsic War
|
|||
|
I often fight in groups of five or more
|
|||
|
When my friend was stabbed by an Eastern spear in the head
|
|||
|
He was dead
|
|||
|
Touched by the sound of violence
|
|||
|
A thousand footmen waging war
|
|||
|
A hundred archers maybe more
|
|||
|
Polemen thrusting from the second row
|
|||
|
Shieldmen dying, they're the first to go
|
|||
|
Two-stick fighters can harry the enemy flank
|
|||
|
They've got rank
|
|||
|
And love the sound of violence
|
|||
|
Foolishly I pressed ahead
|
|||
|
I'd be a hero or be dead
|
|||
|
A belted fighter tried to teach me
|
|||
|
With his polearm he might reach me
|
|||
|
But my blows like violent hailstones fell
|
|||
|
And struck well
|
|||
|
Causing the sound of violence
|
|||
|
Eastrealm fighters fell and died
|
|||
|
Before th' advancing Midrealm tide
|
|||
|
And we shouted out our battle cry
|
|||
|
We would conquer or we would die
|
|||
|
And the bards sing the deeds of the fighters that bravely fall
|
|||
|
And they all
|
|||
|
Whisper the sound of violence
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(c) 1991, Ian Klinck
|
|||
|
Permission is freely given to reproduce and/or publish this work
|
|||
|
for non-profit purposes within the Society for Creative Anachro-
|
|||
|
nism, Inc., provided proper credit is given. Permission is also
|
|||
|
given to make minor changes to the lyrics, to make the work more
|
|||
|
appropriate for the local group. (i.e. substitute "Eastrealm" for
|
|||
|
"Midrealm" or vice-versa)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Rhys ap Baruch, of the Cantons of Eoforwic and Bryniau Tywynnog,
|
|||
|
Barony of Septentria, Principality of Ealdormere, Kingdom of the
|
|||
|
Middle
|
|||
|
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
SUMMONING THE SEUSS
|
|||
|
Contributed by Questor Coyote
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
On Sep 23 the much beloved Dr. Seuss passed away. He will be
|
|||
|
sorely missed, both by children and by us so called grown-ups.
|
|||
|
The weekend before at an equinox festival our circle performed
|
|||
|
this ritual as a joke. Now with much love and respect I submit
|
|||
|
it as a tribute to Dr. Seuss.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
SUMMONING THE SEUSS
|
|||
|
We want a place
|
|||
|
for the magic to last.
|
|||
|
So around we spin
|
|||
|
and a circle we cast.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We will challenge you in
|
|||
|
to join the fun.
|
|||
|
There are candles in here
|
|||
|
so please do not run.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Watchtower one
|
|||
|
Watchtower two
|
|||
|
Watchtower red
|
|||
|
Watchtower blue
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Summon the Goddess
|
|||
|
and invoke the Lord
|
|||
|
Just remember your lines
|
|||
|
or They will get bored.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We would talk to the lady
|
|||
|
so down we will draw.
|
|||
|
Just hope She's not mad
|
|||
|
or She'll lay down the law.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
When casting a spell
|
|||
|
the air sure gets hot.
|
|||
|
We're not wearing our clothes
|
|||
|
so care we do not
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Do you like
|
|||
|
green cakes and wine?
|
|||
|
Oh yes we do
|
|||
|
we like them fine
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
The knife we stick
|
|||
|
into the cup
|
|||
|
The wine is blessed
|
|||
|
let's drink it up.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
The circle is open
|
|||
|
the quarters are gone.
|
|||
|
The candles are out
|
|||
|
and the lightbulbs back on.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Merry Meet, Dr. Suess. Merry Part, and Merry Meet again.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Tovarisch!
|
|||
|
Words: Joe Bethancourt
|
|||
|
Tune: "Let's call the whole thing off"
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
You say "Tovarisch", and I say "Gospodin"
|
|||
|
You say "we bury you" and I say "glasnost"
|
|||
|
Tovarisch...gospodin
|
|||
|
we bury you....glasnost
|
|||
|
Let's call the whole thing off......
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
<grin!>
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
words copyright Joe Bethancourt 1991
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Uh oh, Uh oh...
|
|||
|
words: Joey McKangaroo
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Uh oh, Uh oh,
|
|||
|
It's Off The Cliff We Go...
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
My brakes don't work
|
|||
|
this is gonna hurt
|
|||
|
Uh Oh, Uh oh uh oh uh oh, uh oh,
|
|||
|
It's Off The Cliff We Go...
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
If I scratch the paint
|
|||
|
My dad'll faint
|
|||
|
Uh Oh, Uh oh uh oh uh oh, uh oh,
|
|||
|
It's Off The Cliff We Go...
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
If th' fender's broke
|
|||
|
he'll have a stroke
|
|||
|
Uh Oh, Uh oh uh oh uh oh, uh oh,
|
|||
|
It's Off The Cliff We Go...
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
If it becomes a fad
|
|||
|
He'll get real mad
|
|||
|
Uh oh, Uh oh...
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
words uncopyright (uc) Joey McKangaroo 1991
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
And an additional suggestion from Sherman Dorn
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
"Uh-oh, uh-oh,
|
|||
|
It's off to war we go . . ."
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Additional verses by Dave Aronson
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Uh oh, uh oh,
|
|||
|
It's off the cliff we go...
|
|||
|
A flattened tire
|
|||
|
Will raise his ire,
|
|||
|
Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh....
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Uh oh, uh oh,
|
|||
|
It's off the cliff we go...
|
|||
|
If I scratch the hood
|
|||
|
He'll beat me good
|
|||
|
Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh....
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Uh oh, uh oh,
|
|||
|
It's off the cliff we go...
|
|||
|
If we hit bottom
|
|||
|
He'll show me Sodom
|
|||
|
Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh....
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
And MORE from Joey McKangaroo!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Uh oh, uh oh,
|
|||
|
It's off the cliff we go...
|
|||
|
If the muffler's out
|
|||
|
He'll really shout
|
|||
|
Uh oh, Uh oh uh oh
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Uh oh, uh oh,
|
|||
|
It's off the cliff we go...
|
|||
|
If I hit a hill
|
|||
|
He's gonna kill
|
|||
|
Uh oh, Uh oh uh oh
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Uh oh, uh oh,
|
|||
|
It's off the cliff we go...
|
|||
|
If the tire's flat
|
|||
|
He'll get a bat
|
|||
|
(or He'll join a frat)
|
|||
|
Uh oh, uh oh...
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
And even MORE from Dave Aronson!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Uh oh, uh oh,
|
|||
|
It's off the cliff we go,
|
|||
|
If we get a dent
|
|||
|
My head'll be bent,
|
|||
|
Uh oh, Uh oh uh oh
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Uh oh, uh oh,
|
|||
|
It's off the cliff we go...
|
|||
|
If we break a rod
|
|||
|
Better pray to God
|
|||
|
Uh oh, Uh oh uh oh
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Uh oh, uh oh,
|
|||
|
It's off the cliff we go...
|
|||
|
If the wheel well
|
|||
|
Gets muddy he'll yell
|
|||
|
Uh oh, Uh oh uh oh
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Uh oh, uh oh,
|
|||
|
It's off the cliff we go...
|
|||
|
If we break a door
|
|||
|
He'll hurt me more
|
|||
|
Uh oh, Uh oh uh oh
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
And even MORE from Joey McKangaroo!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Uh oh, Uh oh,
|
|||
|
It's off the cliff we go...
|
|||
|
If I break the Shell
|
|||
|
I'll go to Hell,
|
|||
|
Uh oh, uh oh uh oh
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Uh oh... uh Oh...
|
|||
|
It's off the cliff we go...
|
|||
|
If I hit it hard,
|
|||
|
He'll take my card,
|
|||
|
Uh oh , uh oh, uh oh,
|
|||
|
(stepping out of line for a second...)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(If I break the Shell refers to a camper shell.)
|
|||
|
(He'll take my card refers to my driver's license.)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
(back to the song.)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Uh oh, uh oh,
|
|||
|
It's off the cliff we go...
|
|||
|
If it's all a dream,
|
|||
|
I'm going to scream!
|
|||
|
Uh oh, uh oh...
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
VALDRIC THE VEGETARIAN VIKING
|
|||
|
-Words by Rathflaed DeTunin
|
|||
|
The Black Bard of Meridies
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
I've traveled many lands it's true and some I can't recall,
|
|||
|
And I think that no matter how far I go, I'll never see them all.
|
|||
|
I've traveled countries so far across like fine Merideas,
|
|||
|
And some I've traveled were drops in a pond; I walked across in
|
|||
|
days.
|
|||
|
And many I've met, and many I've seen, and a few were to my
|
|||
|
liking.
|
|||
|
But one I'll remember to my dying day is Valdric the vegetarian
|
|||
|
viking.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
You've heard of Fates, monsters and Gods, and the man who would
|
|||
|
not die.
|
|||
|
You've heard of elves and dwarves and such, and the beholder's
|
|||
|
beautied eye.
|
|||
|
You've heard of orcs and trolls I'm sure and nasties by the
|
|||
|
score.
|
|||
|
I've covered most, I just don't think that I can name any more.
|
|||
|
Well dragons and treasures and maidens are great, but now I just
|
|||
|
don't care.
|
|||
|
For I have seen Valdric and all of these things to him just don't
|
|||
|
compare.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Eight foot four he stood to tower over men,
|
|||
|
You'd look at his boots, get up to his knees, and look back down
|
|||
|
again.
|
|||
|
He wore a helmet with horns, and a half moon axe, that made you
|
|||
|
think, "Beware!"
|
|||
|
And his boots and his hat and his face and his arms were covered
|
|||
|
with three inch hair.
|
|||
|
Then you'd get to his eyes, and notice his smile, and think,"He
|
|||
|
wouldn't hurt anything!"
|
|||
|
And his four foot girth, yes that's him, Valdric the vegetarian
|
|||
|
viking.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We met at a court I've traveled to some, and thought that I'd
|
|||
|
stay at awhile,
|
|||
|
I've relatives there, or so some might say, at the court of
|
|||
|
squire Logan of Guille.
|
|||
|
He had just come in, and been offered some meat, and regretfully
|
|||
|
had to decline,
|
|||
|
He said,"Though a rare treat, I will not eat meat, Have you some
|
|||
|
turnips and wine?"
|
|||
|
All talking stopped, and everyone stared, and one of the ladies
|
|||
|
just swooned then.
|
|||
|
Then all down the hall, the fighters stood up, turned and dropped
|
|||
|
trou and then mooned him.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
But Valdric just stood there, through the snickers and jeers, and
|
|||
|
politely resaid his request.
|
|||
|
Squire Logan roared,"Be quiet you all! I'll not have you laugh at
|
|||
|
a guest!"
|
|||
|
Then the men were abashed though they still stood and stared, and
|
|||
|
they brought him some wine and some cheese.
|
|||
|
While he sat next to me, I was startled to see on his axe was
|
|||
|
engraved a small tree.
|
|||
|
I then asked him why, and he winked his right eye, said,"Why
|
|||
|
shouldn't I hate all plants?
|
|||
|
My family died, with me still a child, at the hands of those
|
|||
|
murderous treants!"
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We talked for a while, of him as a child, and quickly became fast
|
|||
|
friends.
|
|||
|
And all the next week, we were seen round the keep, chatting and
|
|||
|
laughing again.
|
|||
|
And every now and then you'd see us off on an errand or foray,
|
|||
|
And once in the kitchen(or on our way out) saw the fair lady
|
|||
|
Gwinneth Anorae.
|
|||
|
She looked very worried, we asked what was wrong, she said that
|
|||
|
the squire had been sent,
|
|||
|
Off to the border, with most of his men, to fight off an army of
|
|||
|
treants.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
"Treants!", cried Valdric as he loosened his axe, "I'll carve
|
|||
|
them and eat them like beets!"
|
|||
|
And then off he raced, while swinging his axe, as fast as would
|
|||
|
move his two feets.
|
|||
|
All the way to the battle, without stopping once, I heard that
|
|||
|
the viking did run.
|
|||
|
And then when I got there, at close to days end, I found that he
|
|||
|
was almost done.
|
|||
|
Sore bestead was the army, until he got there, they'd fight and
|
|||
|
then slowly retreat.
|
|||
|
But then in rushed Valdric, and he swung his great axe, and he
|
|||
|
mowed down the treants like wheat.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Aye, his half-moon cut trunks, cut branches and berries, and he
|
|||
|
munched on the pieces the while.
|
|||
|
But they marched in by scores, and hundreds and thousands, to
|
|||
|
fight with his weed whacking smile.
|
|||
|
When he had finished, he looked round for more, and was startled
|
|||
|
to hear a great roar.
|
|||
|
Crying,"Valdric the viking! A warrior true! May he live on forev-
|
|||
|
er more!"
|
|||
|
Then he fell to the ground, and squire Logan looked round, and
|
|||
|
asked me what I thought did hap.
|
|||
|
Then I laughed right out loud, and I said to the crowd,"I think
|
|||
|
he faints at the sight of sap."
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
And those who could hear, laughed with great cheer, and Valdric
|
|||
|
woke up and looked round.
|
|||
|
Then louder they cheered, as Valdric they neared, and they car-
|
|||
|
ried him right into town.
|
|||
|
That day he was piled with awards for his deeds, the squire made
|
|||
|
him part of the court.
|
|||
|
Now I've traveled on, and long I've been gone, but I still know
|
|||
|
where I'll find my sort.
|
|||
|
For when I am weary of the world and it's cares, of the hustle
|
|||
|
and bustle and fighting,
|
|||
|
I can go see my friend, Who is there till the end, Valdric the
|
|||
|
vegetarian viking.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
words copyright Rathflaed DeTunin 1991
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
WE DIDN'T START THE SERIES
|
|||
|
Words: probably Martin Pollard
|
|||
|
Tune: "We Didn't Start the Fire" by Billy Joel
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Jean-Luc, Geordi's specs,
|
|||
|
Mysteries on the holodecks,
|
|||
|
Asteroids, triple droids,
|
|||
|
Telepathic Betazoids.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Transporter, deadly claw,
|
|||
|
Visitor from L.A. Law,
|
|||
|
Photons, no Kirk,
|
|||
|
Captain has gone berzerk!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Shuttlecraft, Counselor Troi,
|
|||
|
Doctor Crusher's little boy,
|
|||
|
Klingon rites, parasites,
|
|||
|
New heights, phaser fights!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Data's head, Tasha's dead,
|
|||
|
Riker's hangin' by a thread,
|
|||
|
Celebration, transformation,
|
|||
|
Everyone to battle stations!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We didn't start the series,
|
|||
|
It's the Next Generation on your favorite station,
|
|||
|
We didn't start the series,
|
|||
|
But when we are gone it will still be on and on and on...
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We didn't start the series...
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Alternative Chorus by Eugene Marksworth
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We didn't start the series!
|
|||
|
It's the next gen'ration
|
|||
|
on your fav'rite station,
|
|||
|
We didn't start the series!
|
|||
|
We can't take the blame,
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
for the show's greatest fame!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We Wish
|
|||
|
Words: Joey McKangaroo
|
|||
|
Tune: "We Wish you a Merry Christmas"
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We wish you would leave a message
|
|||
|
We Wish you would leave a message
|
|||
|
We Wish you would leave a message
|
|||
|
So wait for the beep.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
You got our machine
|
|||
|
So wait for the tone,
|
|||
|
Then leave your name and number
|
|||
|
and Hang Up The Phone!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We wish you would leave a message
|
|||
|
We wish you would leave a message
|
|||
|
We Wish you would leave a message
|
|||
|
So wait for the <BEEEEEEEEP!!>
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
words copyright Joey McKangaroo Sept 1991
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
YOU CAN SING...
|
|||
|
Words: anonymous
|
|||
|
Tune: Alice's Restaurant
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
You can sing anything you want to "Alice's Restaurant"
|
|||
|
You can sing anything you want to "Alice's Restaurant"
|
|||
|
From [ something ] to [ something - "Eric the Grim"?],
|
|||
|
Pick any song and jump right in
|
|||
|
You can sing anything you want to "Alice's Restaurant".
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Another Young Folks, Old Folks verse...
|
|||
|
As contributed by Andrew Rajcher
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Moses was the leader of the Israelatic flock,
|
|||
|
He used to get spa water just by tapping on a rock.
|
|||
|
But then, from the multitude there came a mighty cheer,
|
|||
|
For instead of getting water, he got Foster's Lager beer!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****CAMP SONGS (aka the Child(ish) Ballads)****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
BRIDGE SONG
|
|||
|
Words: traditional
|
|||
|
Tune: theme from Bridge over the River Kwai (though probably
|
|||
|
predating that movie by plenty...)
|
|||
|
Contributed by Dave Aronson
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Hitler
|
|||
|
Has only got one ball;
|
|||
|
Goering
|
|||
|
Has two but very small;
|
|||
|
Himmler
|
|||
|
Is rather sim'lar,
|
|||
|
And Mister Goebbels
|
|||
|
Has no balls
|
|||
|
At all!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Ducks and Snipes Forever
|
|||
|
Words: traditional kids song
|
|||
|
Tune: Stars and Stripes Forever
|
|||
|
Contributed by Eugene Marksworth
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
"Be kind to our fine feathered friends...
|
|||
|
For a duck may be somebody's muuuuuu-ther,
|
|||
|
Don't kill all our fine feathered friends,
|
|||
|
There aren't enough for us,
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
So when hunting season has come,
|
|||
|
Just say 'no' to all the hunters and trap-pers,
|
|||
|
for someday all the geese will ROAR!
|
|||
|
and there'll be eggs, ham & eggs, for all and sun-dry, HEY!"
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Variant reported by Kay Shapero
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
"Be kind to your web-footed friends...
|
|||
|
For that duck could be somebody's muuuuu-ther,
|
|||
|
Be kind to your friends in the swamp,
|
|||
|
Where the weather is very, very dawmp,
|
|||
|
You may think that this is the end,
|
|||
|
You are right!"
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
GREAT GREEN GOBS
|
|||
|
Words: Joey McKangaroo
|
|||
|
Tune: The original was to The Old Grey Mare; this has mutated
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Great Green Gobs of Greasy Grimy Gopher Guts,
|
|||
|
Simulated Monkey Muck,
|
|||
|
Fruit Flies and Feta Cheese,
|
|||
|
Crushed Snail Shells to Please,
|
|||
|
French worms on a Sourdough Roll,
|
|||
|
I don't have a spoon!
|
|||
|
(Better pick straws...)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
See how you like THAT! (Bleeah...)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
[if this is copyright I WILL be surprised. Oh, Joey...]
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
And an alternate version written by Eugene Marksworth
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Great Green Gobs of Greasy Grimy Gopher Guts,
|
|||
|
Seventy day-old monkey muck,
|
|||
|
Dried up inchworms in a stew,
|
|||
|
Snail shells enough for two,
|
|||
|
Anchovies sitting in a pile of grease,
|
|||
|
I forgot my spoon!
|
|||
|
(Better use a straw...)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
THE LITTLEST WORM
|
|||
|
Words: traditional camp song
|
|||
|
Tune: "Sipping Cider Through a Straw"
|
|||
|
Contributed by Susan Grant
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
The littlest worm (repeat)
|
|||
|
I ever saw (repeat)
|
|||
|
Got stuck inside (repeat)
|
|||
|
My soda straw (repeat)
|
|||
|
(Repeat the whole verse)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
OH SAY...
|
|||
|
Words: traditional kid song
|
|||
|
Tune: "Star Spangled Banner"
|
|||
|
contributed by Eugene Marksworth
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Oh say can you see,
|
|||
|
any bedbugs on me?
|
|||
|
If you do, take a few,
|
|||
|
then I won't have quite so many.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Who is making these cars?
|
|||
|
They're just falling apart!
|
|||
|
Oh, my TIIII-re is flat,
|
|||
|
I think I got it from K-Mart.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Somebody call the Cops!
|
|||
|
I'm be'ing attacked by guys wi'mops!
|
|||
|
And my bus driver knows,
|
|||
|
Everywhere he's gotta stop!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Oh, why can't this stupid l'il
|
|||
|
BALL-Game ever start?
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
'Cause I am getting bored!
|
|||
|
And I'm afraid that I will faaaart!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Over There
|
|||
|
Words: traditional kids song
|
|||
|
Tune: Over there...
|
|||
|
Contributed by Eugene Marksworth
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
"Over there,
|
|||
|
Over there,
|
|||
|
Take your chair,
|
|||
|
and go sit,
|
|||
|
over there..."
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
TRA LA LA
|
|||
|
Words: traditional kids song
|
|||
|
Tune: Tra La La Boom De-Ay...
|
|||
|
contributed by Joey McKangaroo
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Tra la la boom De-Ay...
|
|||
|
We have no school today!
|
|||
|
Our teacher passed away,
|
|||
|
She died just yesterday!
|
|||
|
We laid her in some hay,
|
|||
|
And threw her in the bay!
|
|||
|
And when we pulled her out,
|
|||
|
She smelled like sauerkraut!
|
|||
|
Tra la la boom de-ay,
|
|||
|
We have no school today!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Addendum from Dave Aronson
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
The way I remember it was "She died of tooth decay". Especially
|
|||
|
appropriate at that age, when grownups keep threatening kids with
|
|||
|
it if we don't brush our teeth....
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
****
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
More We're Out Of Spaghetti,
|
|||
|
(these additional verses by Dave Aronson)
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We can't have dessert yet,
|
|||
|
The main course ain't done,
|
|||
|
And sittin' around here
|
|||
|
Is not very fun.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
We've still got some salad,
|
|||
|
And soup in the pot,
|
|||
|
But pasta and meatballs
|
|||
|
Is what we ain't got.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Next time we tell Joe-Bob
|
|||
|
To come for a meal,
|
|||
|
Maybe we should find the
|
|||
|
Best bulk-pasta deal!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
WHISTLE
|
|||
|
Words: traditional kids song
|
|||
|
Tune: Whistle While you Work...
|
|||
|
contributed by Joey McKangaroo
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Whistle While you work,
|
|||
|
'Cause Hitler is a jerk,
|
|||
|
Mussolini
|
|||
|
bit his weenie (?!?!?!)
|
|||
|
Now it doesn't work!
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
Addendum from Dave Aronson
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
I heard it as "Hitler likes to jerk" ("off" being implied), and
|
|||
|
"Mussolini broke his weenie".
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
--end of file--
|
|||
|
|