997 lines
26 KiB
Plaintext
997 lines
26 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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FOUR
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----------------------------------------------------------------
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The fourth 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, August 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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The following is not a song per se, but could be useful in these
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files if it catches on...]
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system for posting music in vanilla ASCII.
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# = sharp
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% = flat
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underlined Capitals = whole notes (for example, C = whole C)
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-
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Capitals followed by . = 3/4 notes (ex, C. = 3/4 C)
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Capitals = half notes (ex, C = half C)
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small letters followed by . = dotted quarter notes (ex, c.=
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dotted c)
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small letters = quarter notes (ex, c = quarter C)
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underlined small letters = eighth notes (underlined twice =
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sixteenth notes and so on.) (ex c = eighth high C, c = sixteenth
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- =
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high C and so on.)
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Rests done as per notes, except the letter used is "R".
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++ = C above high C and above
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+ = high C through C above high C
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no prefix = middle C to below high C
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- = below middle C
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(at least I believe middle C is the one with the line through it,
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high C is the one in the next octave up, and C above high C is
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the one the next octave up from there. If I've gotten this
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wrong, sorry about that!)
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T = treble
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B = bass
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A series followed by : is the beginning of the staff.
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! = end of measure
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___ above notes = notes tied together.
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= = notes tied across the end of a measure (the ! is left out in
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this case for clarity but should be assumed). i.e. c=c is actual-
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ly a half C extending from one measure to the next.
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****
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A H'REL ON BOARD
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words by Dr Pepper
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(Tune: A Policeman's Lot)
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When the silly stupid human's busy sleeping, busy sleeping
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Dreaming ape dreams, not expecting any harm, any harm
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It's a cinch into the cabin to come creeping, to come creeping
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And up the volume on the clock alarm
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When the stern no nonsense korli reads the orders, reads the
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orders
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They'll be followed though they're bogus ever one, every one
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A bjora's shorts can hold a lot of boarders, lot of boarders
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A h'rel on board can be a lot of fun
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Words copyright Dr Pepper, July 1990
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****
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AIN'T GONNA DO NO SAD SONGS
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Words by Rob Levin
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Ain't gonna do no sad songs anymore,
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Ain't gonna do no sad songs anymore;
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I may not know much more
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Than what happiness is for,
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But I ain't gonna do no sad songs anymore.
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Ain't gonna sing no lonely times no more,
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Ain't gonna sing no lonely times no more;
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I'll keep an open door
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For that one I'm waiting for
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And I ain't gonna sing no lonely times no more.
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Ain't gonna find no corner anymore,
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Ain't gonna find no corner anymore;
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You can see much more
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From the middle of the floor
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So I ain't gonna find no corner anymore.
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Ain't gonna do no run-and-hide no more,
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Ain't gonna do no run-and-hide no more;
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This is where I land,
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And this is where I stand.
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Ain't gonna do no run-and-hide no more.
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Ain't gonna do no hard time anymore,
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Ain't gonna do no hard time anymore;
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Took my own parole,
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Now I'm free for other roles.
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Ain't gonna do no hard time anymore.
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Words copyright 1990 by Rob Levin
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****
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CHAINMAIL MOMMA
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-Blind Lemon Hrothgar
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(standard blues format)
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Gets up every morning, puts her armor on (3X)
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You know you better not mess with her, or you'll be dead and
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gone!
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She's my chainmail momma, and I'm her shield-munchin' man
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With axe, sword or spear, she'll kill you any way she can!
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Some women slither, and wiggle their shifty shanks
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But when my baby walks with me, you know she rings and clanks!
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She's my chainmail momma, dressed head to foot in steel
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She's my chainmail momma, and she knows a dozen ways to kill!
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She loves me day and night, she never lets me get no rest;
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I've got that chainmail waffle-weave imprinted on my chest!
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She's my chainmail momma, loves me anytime she can,
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She's my chainmail momma, and I'm her shield-munchin' man!
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(I assume this is copyright, but I don't know by whom.)
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****
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DEFENESTRATION
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Words and music by Tom Digby
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G
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If something has you down,
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D7
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Makes you worry, fret and frown,
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G
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And causes lots of pain and irritation;
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You'll be rid of it right quick
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D7
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If you know this simple trick:
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G
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Just use DEFENESTRATION.
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If a friend's electric shaver
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Ruins your radio's behavior
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With static so you cannot hear the station,
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Just tell him that you're feared
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He will have to grow a beard,
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And use DEFENESTRATION.
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If the TV-watching crowd
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Keeps the volume way up loud
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And blaring without pause or hesitation;
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Just tell them, "That is all,"
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Pull the plug out of the wall,
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And use DEFENESTRATION.
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If your in-laws all drop in
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Time and time again
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For a month or two or three of visitation,
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They will bother you no more
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If you're on an upper floor
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When you use DEFENESTRATION.
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words and music copyright Tom Digby 1965 (or around then - I got
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this from the Filksong Manual, pub 1978, and it didn't give
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copyright dates, just previous publications of the FM.)
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Treble, C, F#: d!ggggddd!aaaad.
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---- -- ----
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Treble, F#: d!aaaaaaga!bg.r
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- -------- -
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Treble, F#: dd!ggggddd!aaaad
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-- ---- -- ----
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___ __
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Treble, F#: d!+D+d+cba!bgG!
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- --- -
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And another verse by Charlie Luce
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If the party's getting grim
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With that One-True-Way GM
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Who is shafting you in every situation
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There is one thing you should know
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You've got one last Saving Throw
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Just Use Defenestration!
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Words copyright Charlie Luce, 1975 or thereabouts
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****
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This one is going to take some explaining. Over in SF-LIT, we
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had a person post a message that basically said if you were going
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to write a book that had adults in it (or anyone over the age of
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7 or 8), and these adults were of the opposite sex, you HAD to
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put in explicit sex scenes. (Note the word *explicit*.) Replies
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were swift and fairly predictable. On their next post, the
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person carried on quite a bit saying that sex was THE prime
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motivator in anyone's life; it influenced every action that was
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taken. The poster also said that anyone that refused to admit
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this or to accept it, might as well be a dried up old eunuch.
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SF-LIT being what it is, we promptly formed a Dried Up Old Eu-
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nuch's club (DUOE). We have a graphic for when we are posting in
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the mode, :* (for pursed up mouth), a symbol (a prune), a motto
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(just say no) and now, I hope, an anthem.
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DUOE ANTHEM
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Words by Bettie Dendekker
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(Tune: Do Wah Diddy)
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Here we are just as happy as can be,
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Singing do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do.
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Oh, we're the membership of D. U. O. E.,
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Singing do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do.
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We don't care (we don't care)
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If we're caressed (if we're caressed)
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We don't care if we're caressed because with sex we're not ob-
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sessed.
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We don't fool around and we're very proud of that,
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Singing do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do.
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Our self control is a feather in our cap,
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Singing do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do.
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We don't neck (we don't neck),
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We don't pet (we don't pet),
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We don't neck, we don't pet, a goodnight handshake's all you'll
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get.
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Whoa oh oh oh, you might think that we are straight laced.
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It's not true, we just think everything has it's place.
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Well, we don't think that our sex lives should be aired,
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Singing do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do.
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What goes on between folks just never should be shared,
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Singing do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do.
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We won't kiss (we won't kiss)
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And then tell (and then tell)
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We won't kiss and then tell (though we do it *very* well).
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Singing do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do,
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We're singing) do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do.
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Words copyright Bette Dendekker, 1990
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****
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DUOE dah, DUOE dah!
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Words by Elise
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(Tune: Camptown Races)
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Dried up eunuchs don't obsess
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(Do we? Do we?)
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O'er sex, and things that make a mess
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(Do we? Do we? Nah!)
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Dried up eunuchs don't complain
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(Do we? Do we?)
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that we no satisfaction gain
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(Do we? Do we? Nah!)
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Eunuchs have no time to waste
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(Do we? Do we?)
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We keep in shape by being c/h/a/s/e/d chaste
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(Do we? Do we? Yah!)
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Words copyright Elise, 1990
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****
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FILK DE TUNE
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words by Charlie Kellner
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(tune: "Kiss de Girl", from _The Little Mermaid_)
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There you hear it
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Playing on the radio
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What it is you just don't know
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But there's something about it
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And you don't know why
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but you're dying to try
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You want to filk de tune
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Yes, you want to
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Listen now, you know you do
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Feeling there is just for you
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Just reach out and take it
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You just change a word
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just a single word
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And you can filk de tune
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Sha la la la la la
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Don't be shy
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You know you got to try
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Come on and filk de tune
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Sha la la la la la
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Keep in time
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And make de words all rhyme
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Dat's how you filk de tune
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Now's your moment
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It's an old familiar tune
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You know all the words -- you do
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Right down to de letter
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But it don't make you laugh
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and it won't make you laugh
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Until you filk de tune
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Sha la la la la la
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Don't be scared
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You got the rhythm there
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Go on and filk de tune
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Sha la la la la la
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Don't stop now
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Don't try to fight it -- how
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You want to filk de tune
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Sha la la la la la
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What you said
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It's runnin' through your head
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Go on and filk de tune
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Sha la la la la la
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What you heard
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Now you got de words
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You got to filk de tune
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Filk de tune... Filk de tune... Filk de tune... <fade out
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slowly>
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Go on and filk de tune...
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Words copyright Charlie Kellner, 11 July 1990
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****
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HAIKU
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by Charlie Kellner
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I live life balanced
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On a razor's edge -- the pain
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That keeps me going
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copyright Charlie Kellner, 7/90
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****
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The following was written by Pat Miller, a local Navy wife, and
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is currently being played on WCZL (Cool 105.3) one of our local
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"oldies" stations. It was recorded by the staff members and disc
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jockeys. I had to request the words because they are laughing so
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hard during the recording, you can't make most of 'em out!
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HIT THE ROAD, IRAQ!
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Words by Pat Miller
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(Tune:the old Ray Charles hit, "Hit the Road, Jack")
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Chorus:
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Hit the road, Iraq, and don't you come back no more, no more, no
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more, no
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more. Hit the road, Iraq, or there's going to be a war.
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Hussein, hey, Hussein what does this mean?
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Have you gone too far with your war machine?
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You've used poison gas on your own men.
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Now you're causin' trouble all over again.
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Chorus
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Oh Saddam, oh Saddam, what's the scoop?
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Are you crazy like a fox or another fruit loop?
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Get out of Kuwait, leave the Saudis alone.
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The world's against you, take your army on home!
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Chorus
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You thought we'd sit by and let you have your way.
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You didn't count on the U. S. A.!
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Our advice to you, revise your plan,
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Get out of Kuwait as fast as you can.
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Chorus
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Do you get the message, can you read our lips?
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You can't beat our sanctions, troops or ships.
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You can push us so far, then we'll start pushing back!
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We can always make a parking lot out of Iraq!
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Chorus (fade out)
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It is, of course, dedicated to all the Hampton Roads military
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forces that have
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been deployed to Iraq. Our prayers are with them.
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Words copyright Pat Miller
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****
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HOLLOW HILLS
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words and music by Kay Shapero
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chording by Barry Gold
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Am
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They are tall and very fragile,
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Dm E7
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yet they seem to live forever
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Am Dm E7
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and they come out of the places where our people do not dare
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Am
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They bring music out of nowhere
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Dm E7
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and a light into the shadow
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Am E7 Am
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for there's magic in the places that they fare.
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E7 Dm
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They bring gifts to those they favor
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Am
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and bring death to the unwary
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Dm E7
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or, capriciously they steal away our kind.
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Am
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Fearsome hunters, joyous singers
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Dm E7
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folk of terror, folk of wonder
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Am E7 Am
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form a puzzle with a key we cannot find.
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Dm Am Dm E7 Am
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Who are these dwellers in the hollow hills?
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*
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Am
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We are but your distant cousins
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Dm E7
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though our ways were split asunder
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Am E7
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when you sought the forest and we took the plain.
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Call us lludi*, call us humans
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or a thousand other words that
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mean the creature with the ever-searching brain.
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Past our needs of pure survival
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lies a never ending hunger
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all the secrets of the universe to know.
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And from you, our gentle neighbors
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do we seek an understanding
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of the path we left behind so long ago.
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We are the dwellers in the hollow hills.
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Words and music copyright Kay Shapero, 1989
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*Russian for "people". The most musical sounding name for
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humanity
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that I happened to be familiar with.
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Music for the above:
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The first line has two different versions,depending on whether
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it's
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the first or second verse:
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first line
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for first verse:
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Treble,4/4,G#:
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a+c+e+f!+e+d+e+c!a+c+d+e!+d+c+db!gb+c+d!+cb+c+d!+cbab!agE!R!
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-
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for second verse
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Treble,4/4,G#:
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a+c+e+f!+e+d+e+c!a+c+d+e!+d+c+db!gb+c+d!+cbab!agE!R!
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-
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rest of song, both verses
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Treble, G#:a+c+e+f!+e+d+e+c!a+c+d+e!+d+c+d+b!gb+c+d!+cbag!#fgA!R!
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-
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Treble,
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G#:bb+f+g!+f+e+f+d!b+d+e+f!+e+d+e+c!a+c+d+e!+db+cb!a+cB!R!
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-
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Treble,
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G#: a+c+e+f!+e+d+e+c!a+c+d+e!+d+c+db!gb+c+d!+cbag!#fb+C!R!
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-
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Treble, G#: +g+f+d+e!+ca+c+d=+dBc=+C!!
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-
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****
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JESSE HELMS
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Words by Lee Gold
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(Tune: "Casey Jones")
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-
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CHORUS: Jesse Helms - the jerk from Winston-Salem
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Where they grow tobacco, and they really make it pay.
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Jesse Helms is against the Women's Libbers
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And the gays and the Wiccans and the NEA.
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-
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Now Jesse is a Senator in Washington,
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Got lots of committees that he helps to run.
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As long as tobacco subsidies hold firm,
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He'll get re-elected every term.
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CHORUS
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Now if you really want to see old Jesse go,
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Write your Congresscritter, don't be slow.
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Say that you want tobacco subsidies cut;
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That's the best way to put out Jesse's butt.
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CHORUS
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*Words copyright Lee Gold, 1990
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(another verse, by Dr Pepper)
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Jesse says subsidies are wrong
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Taxes mustn't pay for a statue or song
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And welfare's just a free ride for bunch of lazy bums
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But none of this applies to his tobacco chums
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Words copyright Dr Pepper, 1990
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****
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LIMERICK
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by Charlie Kellner
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There once was a girl with a torso
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Like Jessica Rabbit's but more so
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Her only complaint
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Was because Ink and Paint
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Gave each of her tits its own floor show
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Copyright Charlie Kellner, 1990
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****
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MENTION MY NAME IN.........
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Words by Ioseph of Locksley
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Mention my name in West Kingdom
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It's the greatest little Kingdom in the world
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I know a girl there you'll simply adore!
|
|
She was Miss Crown-Craver back in AS 4! (So)
|
|
Mention my name in West Kingdom
|
|
And if you ever get in a mess
|
|
Mention my name, (I said)
|
|
Mention my name,
|
|
But don't you mention my address!
|
|
|
|
Mention my name to the Dark Horde
|
|
They're the greatest bunch of Mongols in the world
|
|
I know the big shots inside the yurt walls
|
|
We sing "Tomorrow" in their revel halls! (So)
|
|
Mention my name to the Dark Horde
|
|
Ardjukk and Cherie and Tagan,
|
|
Mention my name, (I said)
|
|
Mention my name,
|
|
But don't you tell 'em where I am!
|
|
|
|
Mention my name at the Snake Pit
|
|
They're the greatest little bunch in the world
|
|
I told the KaKhan he'd really go far!
|
|
I even gave the Noyan an exploding cigar! (So)
|
|
Mention my name at the Snake Pit
|
|
Yang and Bork and all of the rest,
|
|
Mention my name, (I said)
|
|
Mention my name,
|
|
But don't you mention my address!
|
|
|
|
Words copyright W. J. Bethancourt III 1990
|
|
|
|
****
|
|
|
|
MORE REAL OLD TIME RELIGION VERSES
|
|
|
|
Of Great Murphy much is spoken
|
|
For his Law shall not be broken
|
|
It's not pretty when he's woken
|
|
Things go wrong for you and me
|
|
|
|
--Dr Pepper
|
|
|
|
We will be like the Egyptians
|
|
|
|
Build pyramids to put our crypts in
|
|
Fill our subways with inscriptions
|
|
And it's good enough for me
|
|
|
|
--Elise
|
|
|
|
the following words by Elise
|
|
|
|
We will sing a verse for Eris
|
|
(Golden apples for the fairest!)
|
|
Though she sometimes likes to scare us
|
|
But she's good enough for me
|
|
|
|
We will sing for great Diana
|
|
Who will teach of love and honor
|
|
But you really gotta wanna!
|
|
'Cause she's tough enough for me
|
|
|
|
If your god of choice is Squat
|
|
well then trendy, man, you're not -
|
|
But you'll get a parking spot!
|
|
and that's good enough for me
|
|
|
|
(Squat's a local deity. Cousin to the Alley God, whom I learned
|
|
about through Doc Bonewits.)
|
|
|
|
words copyright Elise, 1990
|
|
|
|
****
|
|
|
|
NINE
|
|
Words: Kay Shapero
|
|
(Tune: First three lines are Banks of Sicily, with a new final
|
|
two (see below))
|
|
|
|
The foe had invaded and conquered the land
|
|
From border to border lay under his hand
|
|
And out in a field a lone farmer did stand
|
|
Saying "Nine, nine, nine."
|
|
Looking down a deep hole saying "Nine."
|
|
|
|
Up strode an invader with jackboots and sneer
|
|
And seeing the farmer not quaking with fear
|
|
Said "Peasant, just why are you standing out here
|
|
Saying 'Nine, nine, nine.'
|
|
Looking down a deep hole saying 'Nine?'"
|
|
|
|
The farmer ignored him, not shifting an eye
|
|
As though the man's voice were a bird's distant cry.
|
|
His only reply, if it WAS a reply
|
|
Was just "Nine, nine, nine."
|
|
Looking down a deep hole saying "Nine."
|
|
|
|
The soldier said "Peasant, now listen to me.
|
|
I order you; tell me just what do you see?"
|
|
His voice might as well have been wind through a tree
|
|
Whistling "Nine, nine, nine."
|
|
Looking down a deep hole saying "Nine."
|
|
|
|
The soldier then growled "Are you lacking in wit?"
|
|
He shook him and said "Are you having a fit?"
|
|
The farmer just flipped him right into the pit
|
|
And said "Ten, ten, ten"
|
|
Looking down a deep hole saying "Ten."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Words copyright Kay Shapero, 1990
|
|
|
|
|
|
The tune is a Banks of Sicily variant, with modification towards
|
|
the end:
|
|
|
|
Treble, 3/4,C: g!gee!edc!fga!Gg!
|
|
Treble, C: gee!edc!fec!Bg!
|
|
Treble, C: gee!edc!fga!gef!ggg=gR
|
|
Treble, C: efg!ggf!edc=Cr!
|
|
|
|
****
|
|
|
|
OUR PETS
|
|
words by Jane Louise Lake and Elise
|
|
(To the tune of "Our House", Crosby Stills & Nash)
|
|
|
|
I'll light the cat
|
|
You drown the hamsters in the vase
|
|
that you bought
|
|
today
|
|
Staring at the dog
|
|
and thinking of meatloaf while I
|
|
listen to you
|
|
start the blender
|
|
in the kitchen
|
|
now-ow-ow
|
|
(Don't forget the cow!)
|
|
|
|
Our pets
|
|
are very very very fine pets
|
|
when lovingly sauteed
|
|
or in a light souffle
|
|
please pass the angelfish fillet to me
|
|
|
|
And now
|
|
yum yum, yum yum yum yum, yum, (etc. to fill)
|
|
|
|
Our pets
|
|
are very very very fine pets (very fine pets)
|
|
when barbecued or baked
|
|
I love chameleon steak
|
|
A turtle boil or bunny cake
|
|
for you
|
|
|
|
And now
|
|
I'll light the cat
|
|
while you place the gerbils
|
|
and the cute little duckies in
|
|
the stew-ew-ew-ew-ew....
|
|
|
|
words copyright Jane Louise Lake and Elise, 1990
|
|
|
|
Alternate chorus
|
|
Words by Jo Kellner
|
|
|
|
Our pets
|
|
Are very very very nice pets
|
|
We like them baked or fried
|
|
With cole slaw on the side
|
|
They're even good when mixed into a stew...
|
|
|
|
Words copyright Jo Kellner, 1990
|
|
|
|
****
|
|
|
|
|
|
Part of a "Camp Grenada" filk by Elise and Becky
|
|
|
|
My friend Becky and I wrote one while staying in the Claridge
|
|
Hotel in Rhinelander, Wisconsin, 'cause we were pissed off at the
|
|
desk clerk for shushing us when we were giggling in the lobby.
|
|
We had been, um, imbibing a bit (both underage), and were in just
|
|
the sort of mood to write a song to the tune of "Camp Grenada".
|
|
As I recall, the first part went something like:
|
|
|
|
Hi, Aunt Hilda
|
|
How's your marriage?
|
|
We are staying
|
|
At the Claridge
|
|
Please be quiet
|
|
when you're tanking* (*our slang for boozing)
|
|
So the lady at the desk can do her banking.
|
|
|
|
We got stuck in
|
|
The elevators
|
|
And the whirlpool
|
|
Has alligators
|
|
All the roomers
|
|
Carry bottles
|
|
And the cutest one is four-foot-two and waddles.
|
|
|
|
It went on (and on and on) from there....
|
|
|
|
****
|
|
|
|
THE BALLAD OF THE GREEN PERFORMER
|
|
Words by Jane Rogge Fredericksen, Elise Krueger, Brian Murphy,
|
|
and whoever else was in the car on the way home from Minrod's
|
|
wedding
|
|
(Tune: The Ballad of the Green Berets)
|
|
|
|
See-through tights
|
|
upon their legs
|
|
They can`t dance
|
|
or juggle eggs
|
|
Three hundred kids
|
|
tried out today
|
|
and all but three
|
|
will get no pay.
|
|
|
|
You rookies think
|
|
this is your chance
|
|
to have a Fest-
|
|
ival romance
|
|
If you'd avoid
|
|
embarrassment
|
|
Make sure to get
|
|
a soundproof tent
|
|
|
|
Last year I camped
|
|
upon the ground
|
|
The winds they blew
|
|
the rain came down
|
|
This year my home
|
|
is watertight
|
|
I've moved into
|
|
a Satellite. (*local brand of Porta-San, Porta-potty*)
|
|
|
|
A minstrel lives
|
|
upon her hat
|
|
You won't get rich
|
|
Remember that!
|
|
|
|
You'll never hear
|
|
the clink of gold
|
|
unless you're cute
|
|
and five years old.
|
|
|
|
(This verse sung in harmony by me and my singing partner - or
|
|
MOSTLY harmony, anyway:)
|
|
This year we're get-
|
|
ting kind of mean
|
|
We like to turn
|
|
the patrons green
|
|
Our method to
|
|
provoke unease
|
|
We sing duets
|
|
In different keys!
|
|
(*last line suits action to words...*)
|
|
|
|
You know those guys
|
|
called Puke and Snot?
|
|
They get put down
|
|
an awful lot
|
|
They say they're snobs
|
|
But hey, who cares?
|
|
They're pretty nice
|
|
for millionaires....
|
|
|
|
I worked and prac-
|
|
ticed constantly
|
|
in hopes the staff
|
|
would notice me
|
|
They showed me that
|
|
they really care
|
|
They traded me
|
|
to Valleyfair
|
|
(*amusement park competitor just down the road*)
|
|
|
|
This is a mind-
|
|
expanding show
|
|
I've learned so much
|
|
I didn't know
|
|
I have discovered
|
|
cosmic truth
|
|
It's four parts gin
|
|
one part vermouth
|
|
|
|
Words copyright Jane Rogge Fredericksen, Elise Krueger, Brian
|
|
Murphy, and whoever else was in the car on the way home from Min-
|
|
rod's wedding 1990 (actually is this note really necessary?)
|
|
|
|
****
|
|
|
|
THE CANTERBURY TALES
|
|
spelling by Joe Bethancourt
|
|
|
|
Whan Aprille shoures may coom your waie
|
|
They bringen floures that blume in Maie
|
|
Soe if ittes rayninge have ne regrettes
|
|
Becausse itte isne rayninge rayne, I wis,
|
|
Ittes rayninge violettes.
|
|
|
|
And whan ye se clowdes uppon ye hille,
|
|
Ye soone will se crowdes of daffodilles.
|
|
Soe keepe on looken for ye bluebirde
|
|
And listning for his songe
|
|
whan ever Aprille shoures coom alonge!
|
|
|
|
|
|
****
|
|
|
|
THE SCAR MANGLED DRAGON
|
|
Words by Jeff Grubb and Frank Dickos
|
|
(Tune: "The Star Spangled Banner")
|
|
|
|
Oh Say, can you see
|
|
By the red dragon's breath!
|
|
All the treasure we saw
|
|
Had our fighters' eyes gleaming.
|
|
With broad swords and short bows
|
|
We could face certain death,
|
|
For the clerics were there
|
|
Healing thieves with blood streaming.
|
|
|
|
And the fireball's red glare,
|
|
Magic Missiles in air
|
|
Gave proof through the fight
|
|
That our mage was still there.
|
|
|
|
Oh say, has that red dragon
|
|
Finally been subdued?
|
|
If he has, then we are rich -
|
|
If he's not, then we're stewed!
|
|
|
|
Words copyright Jeff Grubb and Frank Dickos, 1986
|
|
|
|
****
|
|
|
|
UNDER THE BUNNY FUR
|
|
words by Elise
|
|
(tune: Down By the Riverside)
|
|
|
|
Well, I wonder what those Tuchux wear
|
|
under the bunny fur
|
|
it's kind of funny fur
|
|
don't cost much money fur
|
|
well, I wonder what those Tuchux wear
|
|
under the bunny fur
|
|
Guess I'll have to look and SEE!
|
|
(at last line, make grab for article in question, if one is
|
|
feeling brave, foolish AND bored. This one was written at Penn-
|
|
sic to while away weary hours a-merchanting.)
|
|
|
|
words copyright Elise, July 1990
|
|
|
|
****
|
|
|
|
WHEN FIRST
|
|
Words by Elise
|
|
(Tune?)
|
|
|
|
When first I played before the crowd
|
|
My lute was soft, my voice was loud
|
|
My first day's hat was not that great...
|
|
Two acorns and a paper plate!
|
|
|
|
If you like fun
|
|
and like to laugh
|
|
You should be on
|
|
Production staff
|
|
You'll get a job
|
|
that you can keep
|
|
It all depends
|
|
on where ya sleep.
|
|
|
|
|
|
I've been a peasant
|
|
for six years
|
|
I've known the joy
|
|
I've known the tears
|
|
One thing I must
|
|
admit is true
|
|
I still don't know
|
|
just what we do!
|
|
|
|
****
|
|
|
|
YOU NEVER CAN TELL
|
|
Words and Music by Elise
|
|
(tune original, or use most of Boiled in Lead's version of
|
|
The Lusty Young Smith, or whatever fits.)
|
|
|
|
Lord Angus went down to Crown Tourney
|
|
A distance of many a mile
|
|
The tales he brought back from his journey
|
|
Will keep us amused for a while
|
|
|
|
Chorus:
|
|
For you never can tell at a tourney
|
|
You will see things you haven't before
|
|
It may seem a bit wild
|
|
But it's all pretty mild
|
|
You should see what goes on at the War!
|
|
|
|
He was trying both courtly and suave to appear
|
|
To a certain young lady he wished to impress
|
|
When what to his wondering eyes should draw near
|
|
But the Baron of Nordskogen --- clad in a dress!
|
|
|
|
Chorus
|
|
|
|
Oh, the Baron looked really quite fetching
|
|
In fact, he could cause quite a stir
|
|
But the lady in question was kvetching
|
|
That the dress fit him better that her...
|
|
|
|
Chorus
|
|
|
|
Twas the corset that made him the belle of the ball
|
|
An image that he will not easily escape
|
|
Indeed I'm surprised that he got out at all
|
|
For we fastened him in with a whole roll of tape!
|
|
|
|
Chorus
|
|
|
|
So if period style is your passion
|
|
And if being authentic's your quest
|
|
Make sure you take note of the fashion
|
|
In which Barons are rightly addressed!
|
|
|
|
Chorus and finis.
|
|
|
|
Copyright Elise, 1989 (or earlier - Elise?)
|
|
--end of file--
|
|
|