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247 The Illuminati University Alma Mater 11-16-90 by John M. Ford

Okay, fellow Illuminates, here it is:

THE ILLUMINATI UNIVERSITY THEME SONG (to the tune of the Tiny Toon Adventures theme)

We deal in Illusion Hypnosis and confusion And this institution has its eye on all below A liberal college Of weird forbidden knowledge Our classes cover everything Man Wasn't Meant to Know

Behold the ancient buildings where our scholars work and dwell They move when no one's looking and they all connect to Hell Through these eldritch portals We don't get many mortals And everything considered, guess it's just as well

Illuminated attitudes pervade our faculty From Evil Stevie's Library to Arcane R & D Here man and cetacean Serve up an education In Space and Time Dilation And Paradoxes too Experimentation With genes and radiation Makes each graduation A triumph for the few

(repeat tune of last verse) The Archdean is an angel and the Art Curator's mad And here you need a parachute to go through Drop and Add There's placement and pretest In Science Weird and Weirdest Our annual Samhainfest And Necronomicomp Take Ethics for Tyrants Or Laboratory Violence Call Military Science The Ogre's on the stomp

We're deep and We're dotty At dear Illuminati The Higher Mystic Institute for one and all (Admissions down the hall.)

Quit, List, or number to read :241 From: Edward Goldstein [643] Date: 22:54 09/07/90

Land of Cold Fusion (to Land of Confusion) Copyright 1989 by Edward Goldstein; reproduced by permission

I must have ran a thousand tests Been bothered by a million pests But I can feel we're nearing our goal We soon won't be using coal. Now did you hear the news today? They say that fusion's on its way But I can see the gas still alight They're burning it, into the night

CHORUS1 There's too many labs Too many people Making too many projects And not enough funds to go around Can't you see we're trying to achieve cold fusion!


Well this is the lab we work in… oh And these are the funds we're given… oh Use them and let's start trying… oh To make it a cheaper/cleaner energy source (alternate the 2)

Oh MIT where are you now Everything seems to go wrong somehow The men of science dream of fusion power And losing grants by the hour This is the time This is the place For the energy of the future But there's not enough money to go around Can't you see we're trying to achieve cold fusion!


I remember long ago… When the turbines were whinning Fossil fuels burning all through the night And it gave us all our power Until the EPA put up a fight… So long ago….

I won't be coming home tonight Have to work on those equations all night Congress better not be making promises It knows it'll never keep

CHORUS1 Well this is the lab we work in… oh And these are the funds we're given… oh Use them and let's start trying… oh To make it a power worth working towards. Well this is the lab we work in And these are the funds we're given Stand up and let's start asking Just where our money is going too….

Quit, List, or number to read :344 ILLUMINATI (to the tune of "Eleanor Rigby") updated 11-07-88 Steve Jackson, Joe Vail, Creede Lambard

Illuminati . . . They put a thing made of tinfoil on top of my door . . . What is it for? Illuminati . . . Shooting a ray at my cornflakes to make them turn green . . . What does it mean? The Illuminati . . . They're watching me, I know. The Illuminati . . . They're everywhere I go.

Illuminati . . . Doing unspeakable things in the night to a cow . . . Where are they now? Illuminati . . . Sent an impostor in place of the Popsicle man . . . What is their plan? The Illuminati . . . They're watching me, I know. The Illuminati . . . They're everywhere I go.

Illuminati . . . They cancelled Star Trek, The Fonz, and My Mother, the Car . . . Are they bizarre? You can't escape them; Even if you take a plane to Nepal or Peru . . . They'll be there, too . . . The Illuminati . . . They're watching me, I know. The Illuminati . . . They're everywhere I go.

I know that they know all about me . . . They know that I know all about them . . .

Illuminati . . . Hide their assassins' instructions in newspaper text . . . Who will be next? They're all around us . . . Underline every third word in the Times and you'll see . . . How can it be? The Illuminati . . . They're watching me, I know. The Illuminati . . . They're everywhere I go.

They're in the attic and the cellar . . . Bigger than Hunt or Rockefeller . . .

Illuminati . . . Go through my garbage and count all the pop bottles there . . . Why do they care? They're out to get me . . . They're fluoridating my water from their UFO . . . What do they know? The Illuminati . . . They're everywhere, I see. The Illuminati . . . And no one knows but me.

Quit, List, or number to read : JUST SAY NOLACON (tune: Pop Goes The Weasel) by Steve Jackson updated 12-10-89

Sunday's readings happened today Gaming's in the Green Room. Niven's in three places at once Pop goes the schedule.

The hotel took the film room away to give it to the Baptists. Their con liaison gave up and quit. Pop goes the schedule.

Everything we printed is wrong We'll have to do an update. Just as they are handing it out Pop goes the schedule.

Fifty screaming fans at the door all want information. That department doesn't exist. Pop goes the schedule.

Heinlein's got a panel at 3 I wonder if he'll make it? Just as Glyer's getting to sleep Pop goes the schedule.

Quit, List, or number to read : OLD TIME RELIGION verses collected by Steve Jackson updated 12-10-89 (those marked with an * are original, or at least wholly reworked)

At the temple of ASTARTE, all they ever do is party

  Fill your cup and drink up hearty, and it's good enough for me.*

We will visit APHRODITE, though she's mighty wild and flighty

  She will greet us in her nightie, and she's good enough for me.

Well, they also call her VENUS, she's the cutest but the meanest

  'Cause she bit me on the . . . elbow, which is good enough for me.*

Oh, we all sang out Hosanna, and we took off for NIRVANA

  We got hijacked to Havana, which was good enough for me.*

It was good for old JEHOVAH, had a son who was a nova

  Hey there Mithras, move on over, cause he's good enough for me.

I hear VALKYRIES a coming, in the air their song is thrumming

  They forgot the words-they're humming-but they're good enough for me.

There are people into VOODOO, there are people who do hoodoo

  I know I do - I hope you do, and it's good enough for me.

I was singing HARE RAMA, with my friend the Dalai Lama

  Till they threw us in the slammer, which was good enough for me.*

ASMODEUS will excite us, to an orgy he'll invite us

  If the high priest doesn't bite us, then it's good enough for me.*

We will all give praise to HORUS, in an old Egyptian chorus

  If there's something in it for us, then it's good enough for me.*

Do the rites of old CTHULHU, you and me and Mr. Sulu

  Howling like a drunken Zulu, but it's good enough for me.*

We will sing to RONNIE GHU un-til he asks us what we're doin'

  Cause it's good enough for you, and babe, it's good enough for me.*

We will sacrifice to KALI, though embracing her is folly

  She'd be quite an armful - golly - but she's good enough for me.

We give praise to old OSIRIS, as we sit and smoke papyrus

  We will prob'ly catch a virus, but it's good enough for me.

SUN MOON'S kids are kind of funny, but they stick to him like honey

  He just wants their souls and money, and it's good enough for him.

It was good enough for MAUI, and for his communion chow he

  Served up poi and long pig - Wowee! - and it's good enough for me.

It was good enough for DAGON, that conservative old pagan

  He still votes for Ronald Reagan, but he's good enough for me.

If the FORCE makes you a hater, big and mean just like Darth Vader

  You may get recalled by Nader, but you're good enough for me.

If you've got the itchy squirmies, you had better pray to HERMES

  He will rid you of your germies, which is good enough for me.*

If you want to save your soul, ac-cording to the priests of MOLOCH

  You must sacrifice a Polack, which is good enough for him.*

Well, PAN's pipes got clogged last summer, and it really was a bummer

  Finally had to call a plumber, but it's good enough for me.*

It was good for DIONYSUS, till his temple faced a crisis

  From increasing tavern prices, which was not so good for him!

If you think RELIGION'S awful, and you've really had your craw full

  Just make sure your acts are lawful, or they'll all be after thee.

The EPISCOPALS are saved, in the Lamb's blood they are bathed

  While I'm totally depraved, but it's good enough for me.

NECRONOMICON's still leading, all the others it's exceeding

  But don`t move your lips while reading, cause it isn't good for you!

Oh, the ancient goddess NERTHUS from herself, the earth, did birth us

  Were her sins so bad they're worth us? Still, she's good enough for me

For we are the knights of JEDI, and in us the Force is ready

  Grab your sabers, throw confetti, for you're good enough for me.

We will sing to YAMA-DHARMA, at our revels on the farm-a

  Though it messes up our karma, it's still good enough for me.

Well, I prayed to mighty ISIS, to relieve romantic crisis

  Now I've got satyr-i-isis, which is good enough for me.*

There's the blacksmith god, HEPHAESTUS, who's ahead of all the rest o'us

  Cause his balls are pure asbestos, which is hot enough for me.

It was good for THOR and ODIN, grab an axe and get your woad on

  Grab some mead and get a load on, and it's good enough for me.

If your rising sign is Aries, you'll be taken by the FAIRIES

  Meet the Buddha in Benares, where he'll hit you with a pie.

There will be a lot of lovin', when we're gathered in our COVEN

  Quit your pushin' and your shovin', so there's room enough for me.

There are followers of CONAN, and their swords they're always honin'

  They're all followers of Onan, but they're good enough for me.

It's the opera written for us, we will all join in the chorus

  It's the opera about BORIS, which is GUDENOV for me.

Just like CARLOS CASTANEDA, if to forces strange you cater

  They will get you sooner or later, and it's good enough for me.

There are some who practice SHINTO, in the back seat of a Pinto

  While tuned in to Doc Demento, but they're good enough for me.*

We will read from the KABBALA, in a whisper and a holler

  It won't get us to Valhalla, but it's good enough for me.

If thou'rt PENNSYLVANIA AMISH, thou'rt permitted to play Squamish

  While invoking great GILGAMESH, which is good enough for thee.*

If you never pray to LOKI, and say THOR's a little hokey

  Then you'll wind up in the pokey, `cause they're good enough for me.*

I will be a modern DRUID, I will drink transmission fluid

  I'll do anything that you would, `cause it's good enough for me.*

We will sacrifice to SHIVA, thirty chickens and a beaver

  If you are a true believer, then it's good enough for you.*

Oh, this verse is for ERIS, who is the Goddess of Chaos

  Which is why it doesn't rhyme or scan, but it's good enough for me.*

You can venerate BUBASTES, if you get a little practice

  If you need help you can ask us, and it's good enough for me.

If you want an atom bo-omb, you can always pray to CROM

  Better hide it from your Mom, but it's good enough for me.*

Well, I programmed my computer to be just as wise as BUDDHA

  Day by day it's getting lewder, which is good enough for me.*

Some folks worship baby JESUS, every Sunday on their kneeses

  Then they does just what they pleases, for the rest of every week.*

Better pray a little louder, to the god who makes gunpowder

  STYPHON detonates a doubter, and that's good enough for me.*

In the middle of creation, AZATHOTH makes ululation

  He's a gross abomination, but he's good enough for me.*

The malign ILLUMINATI watch you while you're on the potty;

  Though their plots are slightly dotty, they're still good enough 4 me*

Oh, the REVEREND JERRY FALWELL doesn't seem to be at all well

  For he doesn't use his call well - he's not good enough for me.

You will get a psychic booster if you follow ZARATHUSTRA

  It might not be what you're used ter, but it's good enough for me.

It was good enough for ODIN, though that croaking was forebodin',

  Till at last the Giants rode in, but it's good enough for me.

SCIENTOLOGY professes to clean up my psychic messes

  And a remedy that's less is just not good enough for me.

If you follow ZOROASTER and you seek a Perfect Master

  You will get to heaven faster, and it's good enough for me.

APEP shall return as my god, crocodilian green bipod,

  He was good enough for Izod, and he's good enough for me!

Well, the CHRISTIANS are a-hummin, cause they say their God is comin',

  Our God's come now two times runnin', and the Goddess at least three!

Let's sing praise to QUETZALCOATL, find a virgin we can throttle,

  Put her heart into a bottle, and it's good enough for me!

I thought I saw QUETZALCOATL, in the bottom of my bottle,

  It was just an axolotl, but it's good enough for me.

Be the GREAT SPIRIT's devotee, on the mesa smoke peyote,

  Till you think you're a coyote, and you're good enough for me.

AZATHOTH is in his Chaos, and that really should dismay us,

  But if he came here, he'd slay us, so that's good enough for me!

Oh, dey call me TORQUEMADA; I burn Lutherans in Granada,

  It's all for da Holy Fadda, and it's good enough for me.

Let us worship like EGYPTIANS, pyramids to put our crypts in,

  Fill the subways with inscriptions, and it's good enough for me.

We will reverence TUONI, cause we know he's not a phony,

  Being dead is rather homey, and it's good enough for me.

Now we all should reverence TYR, who the Fenris Wolf did fear,

  Though limp-wristed, he's not queer, and he's good enough for me.

We'll sing praises to APOLLO, where the sun-god leads we'll follow,

  Though his head's a little hollow, he's still good enough for me.

Don't neglect that shrine of ZEUS's, though he's lost his vital juices,

  Still the old boy has his uses, and he's good enough for me.

Let us worship chaste DIANA, she's been chaste since she began-a,

  Chased from Rome to Texarkana, and she's good enough for me.

We will reverence to RA, cause we don't have to go fa,

  We just stand there and say A-ah, and it's good enough for me.

Here is one thing that I do know - Zeus's favorite is JUNO,

  Cuase she's awfully good at - you know, and she's good enough for me.

Mjandirism's not forgotten; we will toast to Horliadon;

  Keep it up until we're sodden, which is good enough for me.

KALI's vengeance is a brewing, against all the evil-doing,

  It was she shot J. R. Ewing, and that's good enough for me.

We will jump the old bonfire, though the flames are soaring higher;

  If you miss you join the pyre, and that's good enough for me.

We will raise our cups to BRAGGI, and we'll drink until we're groggy,

  And the pretzels all get soggy, but it's good enough for me.

If you pray to old URANUS, then your crime is truly heinous;

  You can stick it in your songbook, cause it's good enough for me.

We will praise the god TOUTATIS, when the pagan frenzy's got us;

  Though it strains the epiglottis, still it's good enough for me.

Let us go and worship MIN, though they tell us it's a sin;

  New morality is in, and it's good enough for me.

We will prase HUEHUETEOTL, sit around and chew peyotl,

  Till we're absolutely totalled, which is good enough for me.

We will all bow down to ALLAH, for he gave his loyal follow-

  Ers the mighty petro-dollar, which is good enough for me.

We will go and worship BUDDHA, of the gods there are none cuter;

  Comes in silver, brass, and pewter, which is choice enough for me.

We will visit the INFERNO, just to watch those sinners burn-o,

  Dante must have been on Sterno, but he's good enough for me.*

We will even worship YODA, though he's small as an iota;

  He fulfills his Jedi quota, which is good enough for me.

We will gather on the LAMMAS, it is writ in Nostradamus;

  Then we'll take off our pajamas, which is good enough for me.

We will worship ZARATHUSTRA, we will worship like we use'ta;

  I'm a Zarathustra boosta, cause he's good enough for me.

We'll pay homage to GODZILLA; in the Oriental thriller,

  He did in the big gorilla, and he's good enough for me.

Oh, at Troy no one was meaner than the goddess, great ATHENA;

  Mopped them up with Ajax cleaner, which is good enough for me.

Oh, the Welsh gods you announce 'em, ask me my gods to renounce 'em,

  But your gods, I can't pronounce 'em - they're not good enough for me.

We will ask a boon of MIMIR, as the northern lights they glimmer;

  I would not mind being slimmer, which is good enough for me.

We went off to worship VENUS, and by gosh, you should have seen us;

  Now the clinic has to screen us, which is good enough for me.

We will read the KAMA SUTRA; the positions are quite outra,

  But as long as you're not neutra, then it's good enough for me.

When I first became a PAGAN, it was daring and outragin';

  Now my circle's started agin', but it's good enough for me.

PORCELAIN RALPH'S the Navy's patron, accepts anything you put in; Comforts sailors on the ocean, and he's good enough for me.

Quit, List, or number to read :348 TROLLSHADOW (To Cat Stevens' "Moonshadow") Copyright © 1984 by Bob Schroeck updated 5-20-89

Chorus: Oh, I'm being followed by a trollshadow,

       Trollshadow, trollshadow.
       A creeping, stalking little trollshadow.
       Trollshadow, trollshadow.

And if I ever lose my knife,

       Lose my will to take a life,
       Oh, if I ever lose my knife,
       I won't have to slice no more.

And if I ever lose my sword,

       I may not fight, but I won't be bored.
       Oh, if I ever lose my sword,
       I won't have to hack no more.

(Repeat chorus)

And if I ever lose my axe,

       Lose the chance to make attacks,
       Oh, if I ever lose my axe,
       I won't have to chop no more.

And if I ever lose my mail,

       If my armor starts to fail,
       Oh, if I ever lose my mail,
       I won't have to live...

Bridge: Did it take long to find me?

       I ask the loathsome thing.
       Oh did it take long to find me,
       I say, then start to sing:

(Repeat chorus)

Trollshadow, trollshadow,

       Trollshadow, trollshadow.

Quit, List, or number to read :I know so LITTLE Latin that I can translate it. ("Oh no! Not again!")

LE> In taberna quando sumus, LE> non curamus, quid sit humus, LE> sed ad ludum properamus, LE> cui semper insudamus. LE> Quid agatur in taberna, LE> ubi summus est pincerna, LE> hoc est opus ut quaeratur; LE> sic quid loquar, audiatur.

In a tavern while adding [the bill], still sick, from a pound of chickpea dip, he said "Advertise lewdly for a proper moose, or a guy with a temper, in a moose suit." A pound of agate in the tavern, the total [of what] was pinched, the pawnbroker penguin asked; "I'm tired of booze by the pound, hear?".

LE> Quidam ludunt, quidam bibunt, LE> quidam indiscrete vivunt; LE> sed in ludo qui morantur, LE> ex his quidam denudantur, LE> quidam ibi vestiuntur, LE> quidam saccis induuntur: LE> ibi nullus timet mortem, LE> sed pro Bacchus mittunt sortem.

The lady was lewd, the lady wore overalls, the lady was indiscreet about her private parts; she said "in lewdness is the key to more on tour, my first husband's new wife is a stripper", the lady dressed her waterbird, the lady fired her bondservant: the waterbird didn't have any time to kill, said the millionaire as he put his gloves in order.

LE> Primo pro nummata vini; LE> ex hac bibunt libertini: LE> semel bibunt pro captivis, LE> post haec bibunt ter pro vivis, LE> quater pro Christianis cunctis, LE> quinquies pro fidelibus defunctis, LE> sexies pro sororibus vanis, LE> septies pro militibus silvanis, LE> octies pro fratribus perversis, LE> novies pro monachis dispersis, LE> decies pro navigantibus, LE> undecies pro discordantibus, LE> duodecies pro paenitentibus, LE> tredecies pro iter agentibus, LE> tam pro papa quam pro rege.

Primed for that numbskull Vinnie; the former cabbie got overalls free: half overalls for prisoners, letter carrier overalls ripped for Vivian,

   two bits for a nun's privates,
   kinky for the faithful but dysfunctional,
   sexy for vain sorority sisters,
   septic tanks for the silvered military,
   octopusses for frat party perversions,
   navies for "dispersed" kings,
   VAXen for navigators,
   IBMs for Erisians,
   two VAXen for prisons,
   three VAXen for its agents,
   Mrs. Bakker for daddy who doesn't like Reggie Jackson.

LE> Bibit hera, bibit herus, LE> bibit miles, bibit clerus, LE> bibit ille, bibit illa, LE> bibit servus cum ancilla, LE> bibit velox, bibit piger, LE> bibit albus, bibit niger, LE> bibit constans, bibit vagus, LE> bibit rudis, bibit magus.

Mrs. Zeus is a frog, here is a frog, miles of frogs, frog priest, frog illin', Frog Island, frogs serve us with anchovies, fast frog, frog pig, frog record, black frog, #define FROG 1, frogess privates, rude frog, magic frog.

LE> Bibit pauper et aegrotus, LE> bibit exul et ignotus, LE> bibit puer, bibit canus, LE> bibit praesul et decanus, LE> bibit soror, bibit frater, LE> bibit anus, bibit mater, LE> bibit iste, bibit ille, LE> bibit centum, bibit mille.

Poor farmer frog, exiled uneducated frog, pure frog, dog frog, Elvis frog without a walking stick, sore frog, fractured frog, asshole frog, mofo frog, frog that exists, frog illin', frog on vitamins, the First Dog is a frog.

LE> Parum sescentae nummatae LE> durant, cum immoderate LE> bibunt omnes sine meta, LE> quamvis bibant mente laeta. LE> Sic nos rodunt omnes gentes, LE> et sic erimus egentes. LE> Qui nos rodunt, confundantur LE> "et cum iustis non scribantur".

Two seasick numbskulls with big noses, ejaculating big wads into overall knees and signing some matter, don't like overalls with mint milk. The mouse on the gent's knee has a cold, ad the gent has an earache. The key to the mouse's nose, confound it is "blow the judge and I won't write down what you said".

                 from Ellen Reed
    (The First Noel)
          Share the light, share the light!
          Share the light, share the Light!
          All paths are one on this holy night!
On this Winter holiday, let us stop and recall
That this season is holy to one and to all.
Unto some a Son is born, unto us comes a Sun,
And we know, if they don't that all paths are one.
Be it Chanukah or Yule,
Christmas time or Solstice night,
All celebrate the eternal light.
Lighted tree or burning log,
Or eight candle flames.
All gods are one god, whatever their names.
          (We Three Kings)
          Oh, Moon of Silver, Sun of Gold,
          Gentle Lady, Lord so bold!
          Guide us ever, failing never,
          Lead us in ways of old.
Maiden, Mother, Ancient Crone,
Queen of Heaven on your throne,
Praise we sing Thee, Love we bring Thee,
For all that you have shown.
Lord of Darkness, Lord of Light,
Gentle Brother, King of Might,
Praise we sing thee, Love we bring Thee
On this Solstice night.
Silent night, winter night,
All is calm, all is right.
Nature slumbers in forest and glen
Till in  Springtime She wakens again,
Sleeping spirits grow strong.
Sleeping spirits grow strong.
Silent night, solstice night,
Silver moon, shining bright.
Snowfall blankets the slumbering Earth.
Yule fires welcome the Sun's rebirth.
Hark! Our Lord is reborn!
Hark! Our Lord is reborn!
Silent night, winter night.
Quiet rest, 'till the light.
Turning ever, the rolling wheel
Brings the winter to comfort and heal.
Rest your spirit in peace.
Rest your spirit in peace.
(Note:  The first verse was perfect, just as it was!)
Joy to the world! The Lord is come!
Let Earth receive her king!
Let every heart prepare him room
And Heaven and Nature sing, etc.
Welcome our King who brings us life.
Our Lady gives him birth!
His living light returneth to warm the seeds within us
And wake the sleeping earth, etc.
Light we the fires to greet our Lord,
Our Light! Our Life! Our King!
Let every voice be lifted to sing his holy praises,
As Heaven and Nature sing, etc.
  (It came upon a midnight clear)
Ye children all of Mother Earth
Join hands and we'll circle around
To celebrate this Solistice night
When our lost Lord is found.
Rejoice! The year has begun again.
The Sun blesses skies up above.
So share this season together now
In everlasting love.
(Hark, the Herald Angels Sing)
Brothers, sisters, come and sing
Glory to the Newborn King.
Gardens peaceful, forests wild,
Celebrate the Holy Child.
Now the time of growing starts.
Joyful voices; joyful hearts,
Cheer the Yule log as it burns,
For, once again, the Sun returns.
Brothers, sisters, come and sing
Glory to the Newborn King.
  (Gloria in Excelsius Deo)
     Christmas time is pagan!
     Christmas time is pagan!
Christmas time is here again,
Decorations everywhere.
Christmas carols ringing out,
Gentle pagans, we don't care.
Modern folks all celebrate
What they learned in Sunday School.
In December, they don't know
They are celebrating Yule!
Let them have their Christmas trees,
Decked in red and green and blue.
We rejoice at every one!
Christmas trees are pagan, too.
Bowls of bubbly Christmas cheer,
Fill your cup and quench your thirst.
They think the tradition's theirs.
Wassail bowls were pagan, first.
Every door and window bears
Wreaths of holly, wreaths of pine.
Circles represent the Sun.
Every wreath is yours and mine.
                          Hopeless Warren
                           Spaceship Down
                     by Harry Smothers (c) 1992

[A few millenia later, Mankind had almost wiped animal life off the face of the Earth. There was still no definitive sign of life in the Outer Reaches. We seemed doomed to poverty and war - and vegetables.

   Then the ship landed.  The first true sign of life.  Giant rabbits

emerged from the ship; mankind's eyes lit up as a whole. After learning how to communicate with the big bunnies, they determined that the nearest ship (to the best of the rabbits' knowledge) was light-centuries away, and that it had taken themselves many generations to reach Earth.

   Mankind now had a purpose in life; To Hunt!]

Fires grow old, and meat gets cold, And bugs, we never can kill! Time's cold wind hissing up our backs Reminds us each to make fast tracks And head straightaway for the grill!

For the Rabbits have landed,

       Tell your children well
       Thyme and mint might do to cover the smell

Spits do turn while the far stars burn And people and jerky strips age! Shiny ship land, they offer peace – They have no backup! Let's start the feast! And grind a ton of Sage!

We know well what cooks can tell – If you would not roast Rabbit, make stew! And today their fragile flesh and steel Have made my children a wondrous meal – No meat in a year or two…

[Alternative: And today our wonderful coats and belts Are made now from space rabbits' pelts Our slippers and gloves are, too!]

But we who are reaching out for the stars Are learning to read Rabbit script And hope for tomorrow, and raise our eyes Past that puny Moon to the opened skies In our brand-new Warrentied ship!

For all who've tried out of history's tide, Salute for the Husbandry team! And the old hag smiles at her children's seed That didn't get carried away with greed And kept Coney Island green!

[We'd better hope the Eagles don't land anytime soon!]

{All those years of not being able to finish anything… Well, I'm not saying it's great, but it's DONE.}

                    The Ballad of Harry Smothers
                      Harry Smothers (c) 1992

My name is Harry Smothers and my age is (mumblety-mumble) Another body in the filk that's going on till Kingdom come And I have two brand-new filksongs, and I do the best I can Now they say the filksing's over, but I think it's just begun

And I remember I was 28 on the day I met Benefiche In the MileHiCon Con Suite we played Paxton, Ochs and Fish And I only knew some old folksongs, and he could write so well He's the first one that I filked with, and the first I aim to kill

So it's next another MileHiCon, then we had four good years Then I moved to Colorado Springs, and we parted without tears Then it's 3 years since I left the town, and my paycheck disappears It was in a trade for Marty Burke, completed just last year.

And now every week I get a check from my employer in Detroit And it's every week I cash the thing, and each month I come up short Do you think that makes it all right, that I'm short by 3 percent? Well, I guess I'll just keep working here; it sure helps to pay the rent.

And I never cared for Classical, Country I don't understand And I'd never take Top 40, whether AM or FM But now there's fifty thousand filks in this unhappy land And fifty thousand Rock'n'Rolls being played by just one band

Well, my name is Harry Smothers and I've just gone (mumblety-mumble) A new body in the filk that's going on till Kingdom come Though I seldom write a new filk, I pray God I have new songs! Now they say the filk is over, but I think it's just begun.

   A recent song I wrote about a friend of mine.  Some of it is true.
   Well this is the tale of a wanderin' young man,
   A Shindar called Freyfax by some,
   He was making his way through our wicked world,
   Just trying to have him some fun.
   He walked into London with only his clothes,
   And a lass whispered into his ear,
   He was shocked for a moment and then shook his hea
   And said in a voice loud and clear:
   "I'll never forget the advice of my mom,
   Who warned me 'bout women like you,
   She said never drink beer and keep you sword clean,
   No matter what else you might do."
   He walked in a bar for to get in the shade,
   A wench came to him with some beer,
   He sent her away with a wave of his hand,
   His words echoing in her ears:
   "I'll never forget the advice of my mom,
   Who warned me 'bout women like you,
   She said never drink beer and keep your sword clean,
   No matter what else you might do."
   One night, just for fun, his friends spiked his drink,
   And he liked it and had him some more,
   And when he came to he was somewhere in Wales,
   In the arms of a second-class whore.
   But he never forgot the advice of his mome,
   For more than a weekend or two,
   He always drank whiskey and kept his sword sheathed,
   No matter what else he might do.
There's no particular tune to this, so feel free to be inventive if you

want to sing it. And if you do come up with a good tune for it I'd appreciate a copy of the music (being pretty tone-deaf myself [or Monotone Abled for the PC amongst you]).

Words and music (C) Copyright by Leslie Fish

Worlds grow old and suns grow cold And death we never can doubt. TIme~s cold wind wailing down the past, Reminds us that all flesh is grass And history~s lamps blow out.

    But the Eagle has landed; tell your children when.
    Time won~t drive us down to dust again.

Cycles turn while the far stars burn, And people and planets age. Life~s crown passes to younger lands, Time brushes dust of hope from his hands And turns another page.

    But the Eagle has landed; tell your children when.
    Time won~t drive us down to dust again.

But we who feel the weight of the wheel When winter falls over our world Can hope for tomorrow and raise our eyes To a silver moon in the opened skies And a single flag unfurled.

    But the Eagle has landed; tell your children when.
    Time won~t drive us down to dust again.

We know well what Life can tell: If you would not perish, then grow. And today our fragile flesh and steel Have laid their hands on a vaster wheel With all of the stars to know

    That the Eagle has landed; tell your children when.
    Time won~t drive us down to dust again.

From all who tried out of history~s tide, Salute for the team that won. And the old Earth smiles at her children~s reach, The wave that carried us up the beach To reach for the shining sun.

    For the Eagle has landed; tell your children when.
    Time won~t drive us down to dust again.

Lyrics and Tune Copyright 1983 Suzette Haden Elgin

Song at the Ready

The Filksing was crowded and lusty when I wandered in just before five< But off in a corner, all rumpled and dusty, sat a youth about two-thirds alive. It twisted my heart just to see him; he was shaking and hungry and pale. When I patted his knee, he smiled waekly at me, and said, "just let me tell you my tale!

"Oh,here I sit with my song at the ready and nobody letting me sing
 here I sit with my song at the ready; I even bought new strings!
 Oh, here I sit, but I don't give up easy, I don't give up with out a
 For I've been here with my song at the ready since day before yesterday

Every tine that another song ended, he would hoist his guitat toward his chin; He'd say, "I have a song! You can all sing along!" and then somebody else would begin. And he'd sigh, andd he'd sag toward his capo, too tired and discouraged to speak. It was clear he'd get no song in edgewise, if he sat there the rest of the week. Singing, Chorus

Well' the rules said that I couldn't tell him; but I did what I had to do. I told him what happens to filk-hogs that never let others play through. They don't go directly to Heaven, they first must make a punitive stop, Where they sit on hard chairs, and for Seventeen years, they listen to Mundanes sing pop!


Thank you David Weingart for the new version of the persistant spider song. Another nursery rhyme that's been around for aeons is


Three rodents with optical deficiencies Three rodents with optical deficiencies See how they perambulate See how they perambulate They all perambulated after the agriculturists spouse Who amputated their cocxycal appendage with a carving utensil Have you ever observed such an occurence in your sphere As three rodents with optical deficiencies.

Also: Row row row your boat Underneath the stream ha ha fooled you I'm a submarine.

From "Singout" McDonalds is your kind of place Hamburgers in your face French fries up your nose Pickles between your toes Ketchup running down your back I want my money back Before I have a heartattack. (This was in a column by the really great male folksinger who was in a car accident a number of years back, and came back to full function after many many years.)

Another One From The Venerable Raoul Ignatius Benefiche:

Totally Marred

                   by Raoul I. Benefiche  (c) 1992 
              Tune: Calm Down, It's Only Ones and Zeros 
                      ... and a few other Kathy Mar tunes 

The parodists are everywhere, and Kathy can't escape We number in the thousands and we buy up all her tapes. Our tact is nonexistent, and our meter is much worse In our rush to make a sow's ear out of Kathy's poor filk purse

Tense up, I think it's Bob Kanefsky.

      Tense up, that isn't Kathy's song. 
      Tense up, it's only Raoul Benefiche. 
      Please realize that something here is very, very wrong. 

I dreamed I went to Heaven Con and dined with Kathy Mar.

Kanef was busy feeding her the strings of her guitar. Dessert was liquid parody; she couldn't keep it down. She was drinking up the river, and was just about to drown. (Cho.)

I was listening to Velveteen, when everything turned blue. Frank Booth was seated next to me, and eating rabbit stew. The words began to scramble, and my brain went into gear. Soon the song was a commercial for Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer. (Cho.)

Now, Kathy wrote Shai Hulud, and she wrote it very well; Kanef turned it to Just Say No and blew it all to hell. It might work with Cthulhu, and to write that one I crave, But it might make Kathy was to put some flowers on my grave…

Shut up! I think it's Kathy singing.

      Be quiet! She's written a new song. 
      Tape it, and write down all the lyrics! 
      If someone writes a parody, could that be really wrong? 
      We'll put our songs to this tune 'til another comes along 
      The words we write will fit the tunes of most of Kathy's songs 

This song is intended as a tribute to Kathy uipon the occasion of her being Guest of Honor at the 1992 OVFF. The second verse is inspired, in part, by a parody written by Sourdough Jackson. Frank Booth is a character in Blue Velvet(een?), directed by David Lynch. … As usual, I'm being cheesy and not giving away the chores, but the first one's probably a D, depending on the singer's vocal range. If you don't have a range, it starts with D.

JB> MOON OF SILVER (We Three Kings) 

Which reminds me:

We three kings of Orient are Bearing gifts-a lighted cigar It was loaded It exploded BANG!

We two kings of Orient are Bearing gifts-a lighted cigar It was loaded It exploded BANG!

We one king of Orient are Bearing gifts-a lighted cigar It was loaded It exploded BANG!

God rest ye merry gentlemen, may nothing you dismay…

I was thinking of:

Scintillate, scintillate, globial vivid. How shall I fathom thy natural specific? Lofily poised in ether capacious, Strongly resembling a gem carbonaceous.

(In case anyone has problems, it's "Twinkle, twinkle little star" <g>).

Or "Show me the way to go home":

Indicate the route to my abode, I'm fatigued and I wish to retire I partook some light refreshment sixty minutes ago And it's travelled to my cerebellum Wherever I may perambulate Over land or sea or atmospheric vapur You will always hear me chanting this melody - "Indicate the route to my abode"

Neither are original with me - the first was a favourite of my father, and my mother introduced me to the second…

HOPE EYRIE ©1976 by Leslie Fish

Worlds grow old and suns grow cold And death we never can doubt. Time's cold wind, wailing down the past, Reminds us that all flesh is grass And history's lamps blow out.

 (Chorus) But the Eagle has landed; tell your children when.
          Time won't drive us down to dust again.

Cycles turn while the far stars burn, And people and planets age. Life's crown passes to younger lands, Time brushes dust of hope from his hands And turns another page. (Chorus) But we who feel the weight of the wheel When winter falls over our world Can hope for tomorrow and raise our eyes To a silver moon in the open skies and a single flag unfurled. (Chorus) We know well what Life can tell: If you would not perish, then grow. And today our fragile flesh and steel Have laid their hands on a vaster wheel With all of the stars to know (Chorus) That the… From all who tried out of history's tide, Salute for the team that won. And the old Earth smiles at her children's reach, The wave that carried us up the beach To reach for the shining sun. (Chorus) For the…

Anyway, the anthem story (according to my rusty memory of how she told it at our filk two years ago) was that "Hope Eyrie" somehow got to Poland, where the eagle is the national symbol; a Polish translation became one of the inspirational songs of Solidarnosc, the underground union. And yes, you can transcribe the story; it'll save me from the typing! 8-)

If you've seen this before, um, well, I'm not sure any of my posts are going out, so this is a substantive test.

                            Lords of the Dance
                  (to the tune of "Lord of the Dance")

We dance with the murders and we dance with the wars. We dance with tragedy, famine, drought, and more. We dance without honor and we dance without shame and we dance, above all, for the ratings game.

   Dance, dance, wherever you may be
   for we are the media of the Dance, that's we.
   We tell you what to think and we show you what to see.
   And we pray that you don't turn off your t.v.

We'll dance with your daughters and we'll dance with your sons and we'll dance if and when Armageddon has begun. We'll dance with empathy and dance with delight and we'll pray that our viewers never see the light.

    FFFFF  I   L       K    K   fffff  i   l       eeeee
    F      I   L       K  K     f      i   l       e    
    FFFF   I   L       KK       ffff   i   l       eeee 
    F      I   L       K  K     f      i   l       e    
    F      I   LLLLLL  K    K   f      i   llllll  eeeee     

—————————————————————- The first compilation of filksongs collected from the FILK Echo and provided for download via the auspices of Kay Shapero, moder- ator of same. Publication date, May 1990. All copyrights belong to the writers.

FILKfile will appear at irregular intervals of a month or more, depending on how many songs appear on the echo.

I'm doing this first one in vanilla ascii with the bare minimum of formatting so as not to create problems for anyone reading it directly off the system. If folks would like me to provide margins and form feeds between pages, please let me know.

A CHRISTMAS CAROL by Charlie Kellner (to the tune of "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer")

There's Nemorth and Selgrith and Lamanth and Wirenth, Caylith and Prideth and Ludeth and Ralenth, But do you recall… the most famous dragon of all?

Ramoth the golden dragon had a very shiny tail, And if you ever saw it, you would love each golden scale. None of the other dragons ever let her play their games, They didn't want poor Ramoth chasing thread and breathing flames.

Then one fateful Threadfall eve, Lessa came to say, "Ramoth with your tail so bright, won't you guide the weyrs in flight?"

Then how the dragons loved her, as they shouted out in glee, "Ramoth the golden dragon, you went back in history!"

Words copyright Charlie Kellner, Dec 1981


A FILKER'S NIGHTMARE by Rich Kabakjian (tune: "That Old Time Religion")

Gimme that old "Banned From Argo" Gimme that old "Banned From Argo" Gimme that old "Banned From Argo" It's long enough for me.

We will sing of "Caves of Steel" Even though we think it's real- ly long and has no mass appeal But it's good enough for me.

We will sing "Horsetamer's Daughter" 'Though we think we really oughter pick a filk that is much shorter But it's good enough for me.

If you'd like to pass the Tully, can we sing of "Young Man Mulli- gan"? It makes the senses dull-y But it's good enough for me.

Words copyright Rich Kabakjian, 1989


A SONG FOR GROSSED OUT FILKFEN by Kay Shapero (tune: "When Johnny Comes Marching Home")

(Doom, doom, doom, doom….. Doom, doom, doom, doom…..)

The filksing's getting ose again (Oh dread! Oh dread!) The filksing's getting ose again (Oh dread! Oh dread!)

   The piles of bodies have stained the floor
   With thirty-nine separate shades of gore

And the fans are running out of the room to urp….

(Yuck, yuck, yuck, yuck…) <fade out over running feet, urping fen, whatever…)

Words copyright Kay Shapero, 1988


ALARUMS & EXCURSIONS by Dr Pepper (tune: Cover of the Rolling Stone)

Well we're big D&Ders, We don't know what Fear is, And we're loved everywhere we roam We rid the world of evil and we rid the world of pain And we take a lot of tresure back home We drink all kinds of potions and get all kinds of notions But those notions are no more than diversions From the notion that'll gitcher, when you gitchour picture On the cover of Alarums and Excursions


Alarums and Excursions! Gonna see my picture on the cover Alarums and Excursions! run off extra copies for my mother Gonna see my smiling face, On the cover of Alarums and Excursions

I got a crazy old witch name of Mandrake Mitch, Who weaves mystic runes in my cloak I got a hoary old greyhaired druid Growing me a sacred oak Now let's all decide, to tell our tale But your never gonna tell a better version Than the version that'll fitcher when you gitchour picture On the cover of Alarums and Excursions


We gota lot of little ugly, charmed chaotics, Who'll do anything we say We got a genuine ring of 3 wishes, We're saving for a rainy day We got all the cures, that money can buy, So we'll never have to go to any surgeons And we keep getting richer, but can't get our picture, On the cover of Alarums and Excursions

(extended Chorus)

Words copyright Dr Pepper, 1975


An Oar! by Charlie Kellner

Ah, broken is the toilet bowl! The water flows forever! Now uncontrolled, a ghastly toll builds on the water meter; And, janitor, hast thou no cure? - come now or never more! And if thou canst not fix it now, then wouldst thou bring an oar? Come! Let the tenant's rights be read - the landlord's phone be rung! - An answer, please, before my dog requires an Aqualung - There is a limit to the times a towel can be wrung.

  1. with apologies to Edgar Allan Poe


CYBERSAGA by Kay Shapero (tune:"Black Denim Trousers", with acknowledgements to Ted John- stone's "Corduroy Trousers"…)

CHORUS: He had pointed green eartips, a socket in his head,

      And a black leather jacket with "Deck 'em" on the back.
      He  had  a pair of mirror shades that  flashed  like  the 
      midday sun
      That elf was the terror of every shadowrun.

He streaked his face with red and he streaked his hair with green He had rows of ruby rhinestones on the ridges of his eyes. On the back of his right arm was a Moebius-type tattoo That told the time in Tokyo in shades of red and blue.

Oh he had a cybermodem and it was a marvel rare But tech will only do the things that tech can do He cracked a wizard's data base and searched until he found Ways magic could be used to get around…


The other hackers warned him not to play with magic spells. They said "These things could send you to a dozen diff'rent hells." He didn't hear, he didn't care, his mind was in a spin At the worlds that now existed and the worlds that might have been.

He started searching like a madman, green fire shining in his eyes. He vowed he'd plunder all the worlds for high tech gear and spells. But he found a Disney dreamworld; and something that he met Derezzed his body right into the Net…

      No more pointed green eartips, no socket in the head,
      And no black leather jacket with "Deck 'em" on the back.
      The mirror shades are broken that flashed like the midday 
      But he still is the terror of every shadowrun!

words copyright Kay Shapero, 1990


FRODO'S THEME by Cheryl Mathison

Frodo Baggins small and fair With Elven mist about his aire Set out upon adventure lain To end the curse of Isldur's Bane.

With Elves and Dwarves, the Hobbits set; With Men and Wizard, numbers met. The Nine set out from Rivendell To fool the Nine Black Riders from Hell.

The Nine: They walked through Khazad-dum. They lost poor Gandalf in a room. They met a Balrog: Durin's Bane Where Balin died and now is lain.

Next Boromir and then the rest Were cast astray or laid to rest, So Sam and Frodo left them there To finish the Task or die in dispair.

It led them through the Morgul Vale With Gollum in hot pursuit on their trail. They took him to join them so he wouldn't kill Poor Frodo, who's Ring was the source of his will.

There, in Mount Doom, inside of a cave They could not cast the Ring away. But Gollum took it and fell off the wing Of the ledge to his death and the end of the Ring.

words and music © Copyright 1975 by Cheryl Mathison


FURRY by Kay Shapero (tune: Richter Scale)

Hadn't had a date in months and I was getting nervous So decided I would try the local dating service Paid their fee, filled out their form and things were going fine Until they saw what I'd put on the "favorite hobbies" line…

I am a Feline, canine, vulpine, feathered, winged and taloned furry Every time I'm at a con I draw crowds in a hurry My artwork is erotic Though it isn't quite obscene I'm having lots of fun with this, as odd as it might seem.

This reply appeared to cause the sales rep consternation Back she came to ask me for some kind of explanation When I said she'd read it right it threw her for a loss She said she couldn't enter it, then brought me to her boss.

"So you're the Feline, canine, vulpine, feathered, winged and taloned furry At SF cons you specialize in mob scenes in a hurry This doesn't fit our data forms Some changes must be made You'll have to see my boss to deal with this one I'm afraid."

So it went on up the line "Are you sure this is legal?" "Something like a Moose, or Elk, or F and O of Eagle?" Everything they put in the computer came back out I had to fly to Omaha to find someone with clout.

"Yes, I'm the Feline, canine, vulpine, feathered, winged and taloned furry I'm sorry if this seems to set you all in such a flurry I've heard a lot about your club I'm told it's simply great But all I want to know is can you folks find me a date?"

At the top, the president just smiled and said "Don't worry, I think we can solve this little problem in a hurry. Bypass the computer; And discuss it one on one.." We're at an SF con right now and say we're having fun

'Cause he's a Dragon, merman, centaur, griffin, unicornish high elf Couldn't be a better match if I'd dreamed him up myself Together we're the strangest pair That folks have ever seen Come to the Furry Party room and you'll see what I mean!

Words copyright Kay Shapero, 1989


LOCKED OUT by Kay Shapero (tune: Londonderry Air)

I took a walk outside the mound to clear my head, For wine and song had surely got to me. The night is cold; I'd like to come inside again, But it appears I've left behind the key. So open up, and let me in the hill again, Or I must stand out here and sing some more, And all the songs I'll sing are ose as they can be, So hurry up in there and open up the door!

Words copyright Kay Shapero, 1989

(the above written chiefly to prove you can, too, write a humor- ous song to the Londonderry Air…)


MORETA by Kay Shapero (tune: Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer… see "Rudolph's Ride")

You know Torene and Lessa and Brekke and F'Nor Jaxom and F'lar and a good many more But do you perhaps recall The most famous rider of all….

Moreta, Pern Weyrwoman Rode a lovely golden queen Charmed all the folk who saw them Gliding through the air serene

All of the other dragons Understood the things she said Helping to keep the weyrfolk Organized while fighting Thread.

Then one plaguey springtime eve Healers came to say "Lady with your queen so grand, Take the serum through the land."

Oh how the people loved her Harpers sang about her fame "Though you were lost in transit, We will e'er recall your name.."

Words copyright Kay Shapero, 1989


ON DRAGONS by Charlie Kellner

On Dragons...
Myriad the human mind
And so diverse the Dragonkind
In wing or claw, tooth or beak
Every dragon stands unique
There are those wyrms who men would say
Live only to devour and slay
I understand thy fear of these
But I am not as ye believe
True dragons are philosophers
And speak to men in cryptic verse
We are not often understood
When we write in fire and blood
The dragon is a subtile beast
Beware, ere on his breath ye feast
For those who duel must ever learn
The truth has oft been known to burn.
          - Charlie Kellner, June 1981
Dragon Summer
A younger dragon seeks his fame
With fiery deeds to mark his name
As he matures he comes to know
The victory that does not show
Our race will only be as strong
As the care we give our young
So it was said in days of old
So it will be when stars grow cold
We have no wings and yet we fly
We know the space beyond the sky
We travel through the endless night
With tongues of flame to mark our flight
We come from where all life began
Our quest is to enlighten Man
And we shall taste ere we are done
The golden apples of the sun
        - Charlie Kellner, June 1981
Dragon's Breath
A dragon's fire is in his breath
His strength is in his scales
His subtlety is in his spine
And thereby hangs the tale
So many seek to conquer him
By armored might alone
But dragons simply cannot die
Until their truth is known
You must not hold him prisoner
He will not be controlled
To beat him, look into his eyes
And see into his soul
For he who would prevail must learn
What every wise man knows
Who holds a dragon by the tail
Goes where the dragon goes
        - Charlie Kellner, Jan 1982
Dragon Winter
The fire has faded from the clouds
    The dragon stands alone
The sun has taken with it all
    That he had ever known
On winter's wings the summer birds
    Ascend into the sky
He watches, and remembers
    That once he too could fly
         - Charlie Kellner, May 1982
And So New Life Begins
While you wake
    the dragon sleeps
In your dreams
    the dragon speaks
As you reach
    for what you yearn
So you find
    the truth
        that burns
    - Charlie Kellner, Jan 1982
      for Anne

poems copyright Charlie Kellner, 1981, 1982


RUDOLPH'S RIDE by Kay Shapero (tune: "Moreta" by Anne Harlan Prather, as sung on the "Rat Mastersongs" tape.)

It's Christmas Eve and Santa is late; He's never done this before. It's Christmas Eve and Santa is late; Just what is he waiting for?

A fog has crept over all the North Pole; The reindeer can't see to fly. The children are waiting for Santa to come; We can't let the children cry.

So fly, reindeer, and pull your load of cheer, And fly, great Santa as well To every child, in every home, over hill and over dale, Carry the presents without fail.

The weather elves from miles around All gathered at Santa's hall To see how far the fog could be found And if they could stop it at all.

The Head Elf said to Santa Claus; "We can't stop this fog, it is true. We can tell you that it is going to get worse, But that's all that we can do."

So fly, reindeer, and pull your load of cheer, And fly, great Santa as well To every child, in every home, over hill and over dale, Carry the presents without fail.

Then Santa said to all of his crew; "We dare not wait any longer. We must fly out and deliver the gifts Before this fog gets stronger."

One deer, brighter-nosed than all the rest, Was chosen to lead the way. His glowing nose gave the light to their flight And saved that Christmas day.

He flew, reindeer, and pulled his load of cheer He pulled great Santa as well To every child, in every home, through the sky with nose aflame 'Til to every child a present came And the pages of history sing his name…


Words copyright Kay Shapero, 1989


SNAKES ALIVE (by Kay Shapero) (tune: MacNamara's Band - chorus to either verse tune or "You Can Build A Mainframe From The Things You Find At Home")

Conventions are my hobby and I go whene'er I can Of art shows, filks and masquerades I am the biggest fan Though living, breathing SF is the most fun that it gets I like it even better when I bring along my pets


  Yes madam, I'm aware that there's a snake around my neck
  It won't stay in my hair and so I figured what the heck?
  The lizards on my shoulders really do not seem to care
  They get along just fine with all the reptiles that I wear.

I went to see the art show and I'd say it's really fine Although the dragon sculpture isn't quite as good as mine. Alas, the time I entered mine the concom disapproved. When someone taped the bid sheet on the consarned beastie moved!


The dealer's room sells books and tapes and also other things Like posters, costumes, weapons, belts and sundry magic rings. One dealer said his garter (jeweled) was something I should see I told him that my garter (snake) was quite enough for me!


I love to go to filksings and arrive, guitar in hand To sing of space and Kinnison's (though not that other) Band. Although they cannot sing, my snakes come with me if they wish. I use one for a capo on those songs by Leslie Fish.


The Masquerade and dance both hold a marvelous appeal But I must go and supervise my anaconda's meal. The python ate the chairman and it didn't seem to mind But anacondas might get sick from dinners of that kind!


(The above dedicated to Momcat Myers' snake, Ace, who always stayed quite nicely in my hair, thank you!)

Words copyright Kay Shapero, 1989



'Twas the night before Threadfall, when all through the weyr,

 Not a creature was stirring, except the watch-wher.

The firesacks were hung by the weyrlings with care

 In hopes that a dragon would someday be theirs.

The dragons were nestled all snug in their caves

 While dreaming of silver thread falling in waves.

And Lessa in her kerchief and F'lar in his cap

 Had just settled down for a long preflight nap

When out in the bowl there arose such a clatter

 I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

I raced down the tunnel and woke up F'lar,

 Climbed up to the Eye Rock and sighted the Star;

When what to my wondering eyes should appear

 But a small clump of thread and eight tiny watch-whers!

But it danced and it darted, so lively and quick,

 I thought for a moment it might be St. N'ick.

More rapid than wherries F'lars dragons they came,

 And he whistled, and shouted and called them by name:

"Now, Mnementh! now, Tuenth! now, Munth and Piyanth,

 On, Lioth!  on, Valenth!  on, Tagath and Canth!

To the top of the ledge! to the top of the wall!

 Now, dash away, dash away, dash away all!"

As fire lizards before the wild wherries will fly,

 Then vanish Between in the wink of an eye,

So, down to the ledges the dragons they flew,

 With the watch-whers behind - and the clump of thread, too!

And then in a twinkling, I heard on the wall

 The prancing and pawing of each little claw.

Fearing the worst, I took flight down the stair,

 And to my surprise, found St. N'ick standing there!

He was dressed in wher-hide from his head to his foot,

 And his clothes were all tarnished with thread-dust and soot.

Behind him, I saw a most marvelous sled

 Of silvery metal which glistened like thread.

He reached 'round and picked up a great leather sack,

 And giving a nod, flung it straight on his back.

He spoke not a word, but went right to his work,

 And filled all the firesacks, then turned with a jerk.

He sprang to his sled, to his team gave a whistle,

 And away they all flew like the down of a thistle,

But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,

 "A short Threadfall to all, and to all a good flight!"
  1. Charlie Kellner, Dec 1981


UNFINISHED DRINKING SONG by Charlie Kellner (tune: Three Flies in a Bottle)


Daddy was a centaur, I'm just a quarter horse Mommy was a mermaid, cause dad loved water sports My girl friend is an otter, a'swimmin in the sea And if the kids take after her… (pause)

    They'll get the best of me

Three flies in a bottle, my ale is all drunk up Let's have another round for me, and one more for my pup

Oh, I want to be a jedi, just like my dear old man I want to leia princess, and blow up Alderaan When daddy met the princess, she hated him of course She wanted to fly solo… (pause)

    But daddy used the force

[chorus – substitute a different beverage for "ale" each time]

Words copyright Charlie Kellner, 1990


WHO LU? (words Kay Shapero) (tune - Camptown Races)

Who's the Elder Ghod we fear? Cthulhu, Cthulhu! Who sleeps on from year to year? Cthulhu is his name. Going to pray all night Going to chant all day 'Til he rises from the ocean floor Then we will run away!

Words copyright Kay Shapero 1990

That's all for this issue, folks! See ya next time!

End of list.

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    FFFFF  I   L       K    K   fffff  i   l       eeeee
    F      I   L       K  K     f      i   l       e    
    FFFF   I   L       KK       ffff   i   l       eeee 
    F      I   L       K  K     f      i   l       e    
    F      I   LLLLLL  K    K   f      i   llllll  eeeee     

—————————————————————- What, already??? The second compilation of filksongs collected from the FILK Echo and provided for download via the auspices of Kay Shapero, moderator of same. Publication date, June 1990. All copyrights belong to the writers.

FILKfile appears at irregular intervals of a month or more, depending on how many songs appear on the echo.

BANNED FROM ARGO – THE NEXT GENERATION lyrics by Bob and Brenda Daverin (tune: "Banned From Argo")

After 74 long years the Argo people changed their minds, And said they'd let us visit their fair planet one more time. They figured we're a brand new crew, so how could it go wrong. But something did, and that is why we're singing you this song.

And we're banned from Argo for all time, Banned from Argo, though our visit was sublime. We had a lovely shore leave there for just a week or four, But they won't let us dock there anymore.

Our gallant, Gallic captain with his head so mirror-clean, Stepped in an Argo bar just to observe the local scene. A drunk Ferengi used the captain's head to check his looks, And woke up in the hospital, his hands replaced with hooks.

Our handsome, suave First Officer likes anything in skirts, And when he's playing poker, his opponents lose their shirts. He founds himself at table with a highlander from Earth, And now he swears he knows how women feel when giving birth.

Our sensitive Ship's Counselor walked by the Argo Jail, And was hit by the emotions held by each and every male. The warden called us up and said, "You've got to beam her out! She's taking on my convicts, and she's wearing each one out!"

Our lovely, widowed doctor found herself a big surprise, A man just like her husband, only doubled in one size. She introduced him to her son, and then was shocked to find That having sex with Mama was no longer on his mind.

Our blind Chief Engineer's experience was rather slim. Not knowing what girls looked like was a sticking point with him. He fixed his VISOR so that he could see their proper shape, And ended up in court, arraigned on 30 counts of rape.

Our green-skinned android helmsman felt the need to build a mate, So when a ship leave came about, he'd always have a date. They found a cheap motel that had sex movies as the fare, And when the rescue crews arrived, the hotel wasn't there.

Our good chief of security's a Klingon with some class, He led a pack of Romulans in a Klingon Catholic Mass, Or so he told the shore patrol when they came to claim the dead. He said they'd moved a bit too slow when told to bow their heads.

Our youthful acting ensign fended off his mother's friend, And sought to give his shore leave a far more auspicious end. He made a human daisy chain like some had never seen, It took two turns through hyperspace and generated steam.

The hostess of Ten-Forward lounge has been a mystery, Like how she met the Captain, also just how old is she. She found a dear old friend who called himself the Wandering Jew, And they reminisced about the time they spent in Kathmandu.



by David Dyer-Bennet

Twas Digital, and the binary bits Did shift and rotate in the core. So flimsy were the circuit boards That the mainframe out-wore.

Beware the swapping disk, my son. The seconds lost! The systems crashed! Beware the 12-bit word, and shun Remotely entered batch.

He took the joystick in his hand, Long time the flashing circle sought. Then rested he by the PDP And programmed it – he thought!

And as in uffish thought he stood, The swapping disk, with blinking lights, Came whiffling through the I/O queue, And complemented bytes!

01, 10! 01, 10! And through and through! His flashing line went forth and back. He left it dead, its dump unread, And thought to hit the sack.

And hast thou bombed the swapping disk? Oh, come to my arms, my beamish boy! Oh frabjous day! I overlay! He chortled in his joy.

Twas Digital, and the binary bits Did shift and rotate in the core. So flimsy were the circuit boards That the mainframe out-wore.

[The "flashing circle", "joystick", and "flashing line" refer- ences refer to a primitive computer game we ran on the PDP-8/L systems at Carleton in the very early 70's. It's the only case I know of a graphics-based game designed for a storage-tube dis- play.]


DRAGON'S BREATH II by Charlie Kellner

The dragon sleeps within the earth

  His dreams will never die

They seek to trap him in his cave

  His soul is in the sky

With shields upraised the armored knights

  Advance into his lair

A breath is drawn; a sword descends

  The dragon is not there

copyright Charlie Kellner, 1990


I LEFT BY BART by Charlie Kellner (tune: I Left My Heart in San Francisco)

I left by Bart in San Francisco Beneath the bay it calls to me To be where little cable cars Lay waiting for repairs The morning smog may clog the air They don't care They cry "Unfair!" in San Francisco About the pay they can't agree If I return to you, San Francisco I'll drive my car and ride for free

words copyright Charlie Kellner, 1990


ONE FOR THE 'PUTERS words by Susie Lee tune: The Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly"

Poor old lady

she swallowed a pi

(I don't know why she swallowed a pi,

poor old lady, I think she'll die)

Poor old lady

she swallowed a mouse

and the wire is still hanging out of her mouth. (it makes her jump and grump and grouse)

she swallowed the mouse to catch the pi,

..poor old lady, I think she'll die.

Poor old lady

she swallowed the rest

of the WHOLE computer! (wow, what a test! you can hear the hard drive in her chest) She swallowed the 'puter to catch the mouse,

she swallowed the mouse to catch the pi,

poor old lady, I think she'll die.

Poor old lady she swallowed a SysOp (a nice young man who made her hiccough)

He used to be a computer repairman

and now they two have made it to heaven.

words copyright Susie Lee, 1990


RENFESTIE words by Jane Rogge Fredericksen. (tune: Wild Rover)

I've been a RenFestie for many a year And I've spent all my time pulling hay from my beer But now I'm returning for still more abuse With my boots far too tight, and my tights far too loose

(chorus) And it's no, nay, never No, nay, never, no more Will I ever be normal? No, never, no more

I went to auditions to show them my stuff And was told the artistic director was tough I asked for a contract - He answered me, "Nay! We've got junior high kids who will work for no pay!"


So I pulled from my pocket my tinwhistle bright And I loudly played "Greensleeves" 'til he cried with fright "All right, you'll have staging. Just please let me be! Play off by the privies in area C."


So now I'm a Festie, confessin' I lack Complete understanding of why I go back With the drunks and the mashers and whackos who do…. And the audience even gets kinda wierd too!

end with chorus….

words copyright Jane Rogge Fredericksen, 1990

This makes a good singalong. If you are one of the variant bunches that sings Wild Rover with four sharp claps after the first line of the chorus, you may choose to add the (traditional Minnesota Renaissance Festival) phrase "Right up your kilt!" in place of the clapping, varying it with "We want a raise!" if the song is being sung ON site.


SUPER-FRAGILE… words by Susie Lee tune: "Supercalifragilisticexpialadocious" from the movie, "Mary Poppins"

Super-fragile-calculistic-extra-expeditious! It's the science of which (has to have been) quite fictitious If you write a tome of this you might be held suspicious! Super-fragile-calculistic-extra-expiditious!

don't power it with D.C. comics,

only A.C. Clarke..

and dashes of some Bradbury and Simak

(for a lark!)

you pour it down an Aldiss-ian abyss just for me,

while I go into retrogression, jabb'ring in my tree! (OH! lum di-deedle-eedle, lum deedle,la!) 1) Super-fragile-calculistic-extra-expiditious!

this described a fellow who

a lady thought delicious but then after she ate him,she

was sick into her dishes!


Now Stephen King and Edward Bloch, they

might have been amused.

For Bram Stoker and Annie Rice

our lady had perused,

SO never did she cook her meat

but ate him fully raw,

and by the time she had got sick

she'd made it to his ____ (Awww!)

(Oh, lum di, deedle-eedle, lum deedle,la!) 2) 3))…Super-fragile-calculistic's really a comp-u-ter And when it gets too fractious we would really like to shoot 'er. But it would cost us much too much to get ourselves a-noth-er

So whenever we're mad at it, we just call it "..a mother!"

Now Super-fisted calisthenic is a swartzennegger, and super-ma-te-ri-a-lis-tics, of their husbands, beggar but super stainless-steel-rats, they'll never worry 'bout it cause whether there's a law or not, they'll all be sure to flout it!

words copyright Susie Lee, 1990


SWINGING ON STARS words by Beth Friedman, Sharon Kahn, Elise Krueger and Cally Soukup

Chorus: Would you like to swing on a star,

       Carry moonbeams home in a jar,
       And be better off than you are,
       Or would you rather be a ...

… Fan?

A Fan in an animal with books in its lair, It won't wash its face or comb its hair. It knows every story Heinlein ever wrote, From his laundry lists to his grocery notes, So if you think that you really are a slan Then you are probably a Fan.


A Pro is an animal who likes to tell tales About his advances and his sales. He goes to conventions like the others do, And every now and then he writes a book or two. So if you think you can do without the dough, You could grow up to be a Pro.

CHORUS: …Agent?

An Agent is an animal who gets ten percent, Barely enough to pay the rent. She'll hold your hand in all those contract fights, Then lose your residuals and foreign rights. So if you think you've got the stamina to shlep You could become an author's rep.

CHORUS: …Editor?

An Editor is an animal who feeds on your prose, Anything you like, she says, "It goes." She cuts four chapters as a last resort, And then gets angry 'cause the book's too short. So if you like making others' stories beditor You could grow up to be an Editor.

CHORUS: …Artist?

An Artist is an animal who won't read the book, But knows just exactly how it looks! He draws the cutest unicorns you ever saw, And puts your hero in a chainmail bra. So if you're one of those disgusting dragon lovers You could grow up to do the covers.

CHORUS: …Critic?

A Critic is an animal.

CHORUS: Reader?

A Reader is an animal who isn't a Fan, But reads all the Skiffy that he can. He buys his books from the major chains, And reads L. Ron Hubbard 'til it rots his brains. So if you're just an esthetic bottom-feeder You might grow up to be a Reader.

CHORUS: So would you like to swing on a star,

       Carry moonbeams home in a jar,
       And be better off than you are?
       You could be swinging on a star!

words copyright Beth Friedman, Sharon Kahn, Elise Krueger and Cally Soukup, 1990

A New Chorus words by David Emerson

So to heck with dragons and elves All the fiction's not on the shelves You can make life up for yourselves You could be better than you are You could be swingin' on a star!

words copyright David Emerson, 1990

And More Verses words by Elise Krueger

A zinefan is an animal who's crazy for zines And antiquated mimeo machines She still does ditto, and you needn't laugh: Her last perzine was on a hectograph! And so if zinefandom's really what you wish, I guess you'd better pub your ish!

A drobe is an animal who isn't afraid To show us the stuff of which she's* made She's got a costume that's unique and new: Three large sequins and some Elmer's glue…. So if you like going out without a robe You might grow up to be a drobe!

words copyright Elise Krueger, 1990

  • two notes are in order here. First, I don't intend to offend

anyone. Certainly I don't intend to offend costume fans; I re- vived the Masquerade at Minicon in the face of much opposition, and have worked hard to allow costume fans the opportunity to display and enjoy their craft. The song is designed to lovingly insult everyone; if your group is left out, we can fix that! Second, I'm looking for a masculine gender verse variant here. Any ideas? I like to be able to sing both.

THE MAVEN by Charlie Kellner

Once upon a weekend weary, while I pondered, beat and bleary,

Over many a faintly printed hexadecimal dump of core - While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some Source user chatting, chatting of some Mavenlore. "Just a power glitch," I muttered, "printing out an underscore -

                              Just a glitch and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember that old Teletype ASR, And the paper tape dispenser left its chad upon the floor. Eagerly I thought, "Tomorrow, maybe I will go and borrow From my friend an Apple micro - micro with a monitor - So that I can chat at leisure, and then throw away my paper -

                              Lying all across the floor."

And the repetitious tapping which had nearly caught me napping Woke me - and convinced me that it could not be an underscore; Appearances can be deceiving, so I sat there, still believing: "My terminal must be receiving more express mail from the Source - That's it - my terminal's receiving new express mail from the Source;

                              Posted mail and nothing more."

But my curiosity grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, I stood up and crossed the room to see what waited there in store. Sticking from the terminal were three inches or so of paper; Carefully my trembling hand tore off the scrap, and then I swore - "What is this?" I cried in anger - here I threw it to the floor;

                              Blankness there and nothing more.

Deep into its workings peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, What could cause the thing to stutter, dropping twenty lines or more? But the ribbon was unbroken, and the "HERE IS" gave no token, I thought the Teletype was broken, so I typed the number "4"! This I typed, and then the modem echoed back the number "4" -

                              Merely this and nothing more.

Back then to my work returning, with my temper slowly burning, Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before. "Surely," said I, "surely that is just another RESET message; With my luck, there's probably expensive data to restore!" - As it chattered, still I sat there, trying to complete my chore.

                              "'Tis  the  Source  and   nothing 


Such a simple program, really - just to fill one K of memory With the Fibonacci series, but when it reached 144, It had failed to set the high bit - Suddenly I thought I had it! But just as I found the bug, my train of thought derailed once more As the Teletype's loud bell rang, then it sat just like before -

                              Rang, and sat, and nothing more.

Suddenly I couldn't stand it - Just as if someone had planned it, Now the paper, like a bandit, rolled its way across the floor! As I put it back, I spied two words: "CHAT TCX122" - Which I knew must be the Maven, chatting from the Eastern shore. Presently the terminal received and printed one word more -

                              Quoth the Maven, "#4?"

Such a message I was having difficulty understanding, For his letters little meaning - little relevancy bore; Though I must admit believing that no living human being

Ever could remember seeing evidence of Mavenlore - Tell me now, what kind of Maven of the saintly days of yore

                              Could have written "#4?"

But the Maven, waiting for me to reply, transmitted only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther then he ventured; silently the Teletype purred - Till I scarcely more than murmured: "Stars and garters, what a bore!" Whereupon the terminal abruptly started with a roar;

                              Then it typed out "#4?!"

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so tersely spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what we have here could not be a line error. Failure to communicate, perhaps - it's late and getting later - But I've never seen a greater unsolved mystery to explore." Then I knew I'd never rest until I solved his semaphore…

                              "Who am I, the Prisoner?"

But the Maven didn't answer; no more data did he transfer, So I wheeled my Herman Miller office chairair across the floor; Then, upon the plastic sinking, I betook myself to linking Logic unto logic, thinking what this ominous bard of yore - What this unknown, unseen, unsung, unrepentant bard of yore

                              Meant in typing "#4?!"

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the dour and cryptic Maven now whose words I puzzled o'er; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the seat back's plastic lining that the lamp light flouresced o'er, But whose flattened plastic lining with the lamp flourescing o'er

                              Shall compress, ah, little more!

All at once my thoughts grew clearer - as if looking in a mirror, Now at last I understood where I had sent the number 4! "Look," I typed, "I was just testing - did you think that I was jesting? Why was it so interesting that I typed the number 4? Did you think that you were chatting with some foolish sophomore?"

                              Quoth the Maven, "...#4?"

"Maven!" said I, "Great defender! Venerable comprehender! Whether you began this chat, or were a victim of error, Mystified, and yet undaunted, by this quandary confronted -" (Could my terminal be haunted?) "Tell me truly, I implore - Can you understand my message? - tell me, tell me, I implore!"

                              Quoth the Maven, "#4!"

"Maven!" said I, "Great pretender! Ancient Jewish moneylender! By the Source that now connects us - by the holy Oath you swore - Tell me in your obscure wisdom if, within your distant modem, You receive my words unbroken by backspace or underscore - Tell me why my Teletype prints nothing but the number 4!"

                              Quoth the Maven, "#4?"

"Be that word our sign of parting, bard or fiend!" I typed, upstarting "Get back to your aimless chatter and obnoxious Mavenlore! Leave no token of your intent - send no message that you repent! Leave my terminal quiescent! Quit the chat hereinbefore! Type control-P (or escape), and quit this chat forevermore!"

                              Quote the Maven, "#4..."

And the Maven, notwithstanding, still is chatting, still is chatting Over my misunderstanding of his cryptic "#4?"; And I calmly pull the cover and remove a certain lever From the 33ASR, which I never shall restore; And a certain ASCII number that lies broken on the floor

                              Shall be printed - nevermore!

(with a nod and a smile to Edgar Allan Poe) copyright Charlie Kellner, 1990


THE NEW WAVE by Charlie Kellner

The guru sits

  high atop a hill
      and says to the world
          "Here comes the new wave!"

The businessman sits

  sipping his martini
      contemplating stock futures
          and beach front property

The old-timer sits

  secure in his mansion
      and refuses to move

And here we are

  in our outrageous T-shirts
       and sandals

copyright Charlie Kellner, 1990


THE PHOENIX CYCLE by Charlie Kellner

Born of light in a darker age When men howled at the moon in fear Nourished by a spark of hope In the ashes of despair

You awoke as the sun's last ray Shattered the egg that protected you Rising high on a plume of smoke You spread your wings and flew

Fly, Phoenix! Into the dark of night The world has need of your magic Wonderful and bright

As you grew in your power Took to the sky like a shooting star You lighted the path men walked on They saw the glow from afar

Then they looked up in wonder Fear of the night for a moment gone They thought you might be a dragon Until they heard your song

Fly, Phoenix! Borne on the winds of change The world has need of your magic Wonderful and strange

As the dawning sun rose high You sang with a passion they never knew The light that had been gone for so long Cast its love on you

Rising into the clear blue sky Seeking the light that gave you birth You touched the fire of the heavens And brought it back to Earth

Fly, Phoenix! Where no one else would dare The world has need of your magic Wonderful and rare

Men didn't know what you gave them Some day you knew they would use it well And tales would be told of the fire bird That touched the sky and fell

With the last rays of evening You knew that your work on Earth was done You followed those last rays skyward To the greater light beyond

Fly, Phoenix! Into the endless night All worlds have need of your magic Beautiful and bright

copyright Charlie Kellner, June 6 1990


THE WAYWARD WORD by Charlie Kellner (tune: "The Way We Were")

Memories… in the Lo-res screen I find Missing 16-color memories of the wayward word Scattered pixels of the files we left behind Files we saved with Apple Writer of the wayward word Could it be that it was all in ASCII then Or has DOS rewritten every line? If we had the file to edit all again Tell me - would we… could we? Memories… can be powered up and yet What's refreshing to remember, they simply lose, then forget So it's the hardware we'll try to repair Whenever we encounter the wayward word The wayward word

(apologies to Barbra Streisand and Marvin Hammlisch)

words copyright Charlie Kellner, Oct 1981


WELL, ALMOST NO ROOM… verses by Kay Shapero choruses by Lee Gold (tune: either "Temperance Union" or "Banks of Sicily")

Dad cycled the airlock, and Mom pulled it to, Then looked at her hand which was covered with goo. So that's where my chewing gum disappeared to! We're off to the Moon for the weekend.

While making a sandwich my brother has found That untethered honey jars wander around. The galley is now a nice warm sticky brown… We're off to the Moon for the weekend.

My sister revised the computer and we Do not seem to be where they want us to be. Two shuttles just missed us. Whoops, no make that three! We're off to the Moon for the weekend.

To add to the noise, Baby's started to cry. I don't like the look Mommy has in her eye. And Daddy is swearing that next time they'll buy A Spaceship with No Room for Children!

Choruses: for "Banks of Sicily"

So fare you well, green grass and gravity, We won't be back til Sunday night. We left kitty home, 'cause there's no room to swing her We're off to the Moon for the weekend.

for "Temperance Union"

Hurray, hurray for Zero-G For Zero-G, for Zero-G Hurray, hurray for Zero-G We're off to the Moon for the weekend!

Verse copyright Kay Shapero, 1987 Choruses copyright Lee Gold, 1987

This was sort of as a comment on "A Spaceship Has No Room for Children", originally intended to be to the same tune, but it was SO ose I couldn't stand to listen to it often enough to learn same…

I usually sing this to a modified version of Banks of Sicily.

——end of file———-

End of list.

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(Song lyric, copyright David Van Allen)

Accelerate to escape velocity

Break loose the chains of gravity
Bisecting the orbit of Mars
On through into the realm of the stars
Seeking a suitable system
A place to colonize
A habitable world with perhaps two moons in its skies
The crew is FROZEN
Guiding the ship to our new home
There to release them from the cold
They will be YOUNG
I will be OLD

I've had a vision
I've seen it all
I'll be a Hero

Erect a statue

Engrave MY name
With a map to show how far we came
By every interstellar pioneer
Answering children's questions with the wisdom of a sage
I'll be a living legend with no friends of my own age
I will accept this
I won't get weird
'Cause after all

I've had a vision

I've seen it all
I'll be a HERO

There's more stuff I've written in a similar vein, ie. adapting classic science fiction themes to rock 'n' roll contexts, popculture feeding on itself. e-mail at D.VANALLEN2. *S

Download complete. Turn off Capture File.

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do that again if you really want TA!
take it from here if ya want any maw!
(Oh, wellll
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