These are just some of the songs I've written over the years.....some good, some bad, some indifferent, but I'm having fun doing it.
Some of these are SCA, others are not, most are G-rated, some might be more or less risque or non-PC. You've been warned.
More will be added as often as the Muse kicks me in the head.
Take note that while the Table of Contents is in alphabetical order, the
songs, being contrary, may not be ..... and if the song has been recorded, the album it's on is noted
and linked where possible.
Take especial note that these songs are copyrighted, and if you steal them, I'll take legal action
so fast it will make your head spin. If you want to record them, . If you
just want to sing them, whether for money in clubs or just for fun, go ahead ... but give me credit.
Also take note that, due to possible pending legislation from the United States Congresscritters, this edition has been censored. Ain't so-called "free speech" just plain wonderful? I'll remember this piece of cynical tyranny next election, and every single election thereafter.
ACUSHLA (c) 1990 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "When You And I Were Young") To Cherie Ruadh MhicRath of Locksley C C7 F Dm7 I have wandered today to the hills, Acushla, C G To watch the scene below C C7 F The pavilions and flags, and the songs, Acushla, C G7 C That we started long, long ago! I see a true living Dream, Acushla, The past come alive once again. I see a life that we've made, Acushla, Did we see this at all, when we began? F C They say we have outlived our time, Acushla, D7 G G7 As dated as the songs we have sung; C C7 F Dm7 But to me you're as fair as you were, Acushla, C G C When you and I were young! I see the child that we raised, Acushla, In the Lists for his fair Lady Maid; He will sit on a Throne someday soon, Acushla, With eyes shining and unafraid! Through hard times and good times and sad, Acushla, We stood by the Dream that we knew; And we did the best that we could, Acushla, And watched as that little Dream grew! They say we have outlived our time, Acushla, As dated as the songs we have sung; But to me you're as fair as you were, Acushla, When the SCA was young!
ALIENS (A WHITE SPACE SUIT) (c) copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "A White Sport Coat") The basic idea came from Jimmy Buffet, of course, and the rest hit me one depraved evening at the local Irish nightspot. C Dm7 G7 A white space-suit, and a pink crustacean F G7 Exploring in outer space.... C Dm7 G7 A white space-suit, and a pink crustacean F G7 C Got something stuck to my face.... G7 Feeling queasy, not too great, C Must be something that I ate.... D7 Aliens everywhere it seems, G G7 Something strange will share my dreams! C Dm7 G7 A white space-suit, and a pink crustacean F G G7 C Where is my bug-spray now?!!!
ANOTHER FLIGHT OF EARLS (c) copyright 1991 W.J.Bethancourt III All Rights Reserved (Tune: "Flight Of Earls") C G C C G C I can hear the halls of Congress in this lonely hotel room F C G And the paperboys are singin' out the news C G C C G C How the unemployment's risin', and pollution's gettin' bad F C G C And there ain't a bloody thing that we can do! G We've got nothin' left to stay for, F C F C We've got no more left to say C G And we're sick and tired of Earthbound status quo C G C So farewell ye boys and girls; C G C Another bloody Flight Of Earls! F C G C And there isn't any place on Earth to go! It's not gold in California that makes us leave this time And we can't join a Western wagon train We've got brains, and we've got visions; we've got education, too! But we walk the streets and shiver in the rain.... So we walk the streets of Moscow, And the streets of Baltimore And we look up to the stars and dream our dreams We're the leaders of the future (But) there's no place for us at home And the Final Frontier's vision's what we've seen As we look back to Ellis Island, and the Lady in the bay And Manhattan turns to face another Sunday We just wonder what you're doin' for our birthright in the stars! As we look forward to another Monday Because there's nothin' more that scares us; We don't mind an honest job And our itchy feet just yearn to roam the starways So a thousand times adieu, We'll go with -or without- you The Earth is all worn out: the stars are always! So you better face the truth because the writin's on the wall We'll be leavin' as our fathers did before We'll be carvin' out a New World, can you hear Glory call? We're not content with Mother any more! Because we're over here on MoonBase And we're terra-forming Mars And we're in the asteroids, and lookin' outwards And if we see better days, Those big starships go both ways But we won't be comin' home to you again!
ATENVELDT (c) copyright 1974, 1990 W.J.Bethancourt III (Tune: "The West's Awake" G C Am For all the Lands where I have dwelt D G Oh Atenveldt, Oh Atenveldt G C Am till rivers burn and mountains melt D G lest I forget my Atenveldt G C From deserts stark to snow-capped peaks C Am D from silent lakes and laughing creeks G C G sing: Oh let man find his heart's ease D on rocky plains G in desert breeze For oft I thought of mighty men who carved a Land with sword and pen and lit a candle, burning bright, that pierced the darkness; stirred the night! tho some are gone their deeds remain this sunny Crown without a stain sing: Oh, their deeds were not in vain! in sunlit days and falling rain..... So raise your banners, blazoned bright Advance the Dream and Shine the Light! in battle's crash and Revel's song raise high the Flag and wave it long! For all the Lands wherein I've dwelt I love you best, my Atenveldt! Sing: Oh the Joy that I have felt! My Atenveldt My Atenveldt
THE ATENVELDT INVASION (Tune: "Young Folks, Old Folks") (c) 1991 W.J.Bethancourt III C G7 CHORUS: Young folks, old folks, every man and each C C7 Come see the Atenveldter, landed on the beach! F C He's not wearing any clothes, and covered all with hair G C And worse than that, he isn't wearing any underwear! Once upon a time, in a Kingdom far away A ship was wrecked in Calafia's bay It sank right down, men and mast and sail And only the ship's monkey lived to tell the tale! The monkey came ashore and wandered all around Wandered thru the valleys, wandered thru the town Then it came to a revel hall more dead than alive And the Caidan's thought an invasion had arrived! CHORUS The crowd screamed and scrambled, caught by surprise Climbing the curtains, putting pillows o'er their eyes Cried a willowy Laurel, with a cry that was heart-felt: "He's big and strong and hairy, he must be from Atenveldt!" "He's not wearing any clothes, whatever can it mean?" "It's the rudest thing that I have ever seen!" A Duchess said to the Kingdom Castellan: "You can tell he's not Caidan: No Elizabeth-i-ans!" //Humpf!// CHORUS The whole crowd was terrified, petrified with fear, That the Atenveldt invasion finally was here. "God help the Kingdom!" "Save us from this fate!" "Run away and hide ourselves before it is too late!" The monkey saw the revel feast and jumped for the food With no table manners; he was really rather rude! The crowd gasped with horror at the awful sight: "He eats with both hands! He's an Atenveldter Knight!" CHORUS The monkey ambled 'round, all tired, stiff and sore; All the Caidans scrambled for the door! The politics got heavy and the rumor spread around "The Atenveldter's gonna be a-fighting for the Crown!" But then the revel hall got quiet as could be When up cried the Seneshal, "Can't you plainly see?" "Hide your wives and daughters and prepare for fire and sword!" "It's not an Atenveldter, it's a member of the Horde!" //Eek!// CHORUS (twice)
THE ANTI-UNICORN SONG (c) copyright 1991 W.J.Bethancourt III (Tune: "Broad Black Brimmer") When I was playing backup with "Celtic Pride" (a very good Celtic duo) at _The Dubliner Irish Pub_, we were requested to sing Shel Silverstein's "Unicorn Song" several times a night.....and were heartily sick of it. This was my answer to -that!- C F C There's a unicorn that's hangin' from a noose in Father's room C G7 A unicorn that's hung there for a while C F C Its rancid and its stinkin' and its finally met its doom C G7 C C7 And we've done it in in truly Glascow style! F C They say the thing's endangered, a species on the wane C But Daddy killed it with a happy smile! C F C And scoopin' up behind it was such a bloody pain C G7 C And virgins have for long been out of style! C F C CHORUS: Its just a stone-dead unicorn a-hangin' from a noose C And stinkin' like a Glascow barkeep's breath //P-U!// C F C We'll grind it up for dogfood and we'll put it to some use; C G7 C C The stupid thing has finally met its death! F C The flies are buzzin' round it, you can hear their happy hum C When the birdies sing awake the early morn C The neighbors ceased to riot F C There was finally peace and quiet C G7 C When Daddy killed the bloody unicorn! It used to follow Sister Sue, 'till she discovered boys, And no longer met the necessary test It kept us all awake at nights with bloody bleatin' noise And never would allow us any rest One evening Daddy went berserk, and cut its stupid throat And watched it bleed its bloody life away Then we hung it in the closet; we hung it there to gloat And its been quiet since that happy day!
ATEN MAN (c) copyright 1991 W.J.Bethancourt III (Tune: "Irish Soldier Laddie") A7 D CHORUS: Will you stand in the van like a true Aten man A7 And hold the line for Kingdom and for Crown? D D7 G Will you fight and never yield on Estrella's battlefield? A D For today's the day we're takin' Caid down! D G D As I stood in a crowd I saw a valiant laddie walkin' E7 A With his armour and his sword down a quiet country lane D G D He smiled and he waved and he bespoke me truly A7 D He beckoned and he called to me by name: On a quiet village street stood a bowman strong and hearty As he bade a fond farewell to his pretty peasant lass And his eyes were flashin' bright as he bent his head and kissed her And these words he said beneath the partin' glass: Came a knight upon his steed, with his squires ridin' after With his pennon and his lance and his shinin' silver mail With his Lady's Favour hangin' from his belt of leather And passin' close he smiled and bade me "Hail!" In a sunny castle hall, with her minstrels and her maidens, Stood a Lady, strong and proud, with a fire in her eyes "If my King is off to war, what can I but fight beside him?" She raised her sword, and shouted to the skies: From city and from township, from Barony and Marches Come the men of Aten's land with a fire in their eyes Atenveldt and Loch Sallan, Mons Tinitrus and SunDragon, And a hundred thousand others 'neath the sky! (Alternate last verse for non-Atenveldt singers): From city and from Township, from Barony and Marches Come the folk of our fair Land, with a fire in their eyes Knights and Masters, men-at-arms, Squires and Ladies fit for battle And a hundred thousand others 'neath the sky!
THE BALLAD OF STARK UNBELIEF (c) copyright 1991 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune: variant on "I Wish I Was A Busy Bee" or "There Are No Fighter Pilots") Another depraved SCA song....... (Chorus): Oh------ C Put it on the ground F Spread it all around G7 Dig it with a hoe G G7 C It'll make your flowers grow! C G7 Now, peerages are given for a reason G7 C And that reason is simply understood: C F For Chivalry, and Honesty, and Bravery G7 C And being very, very, very Good! Awards are given out to the deserving, And no one EVER bitches, out of spite! We forget the little slights and innuendos And we really DO believe that Right makes Might! "Nepotisim" is a word we've never heard of, "Politics" is just a friendly little game! We have counted every shot that we've been given, And Camelot is where we always aim! Oh the King is up there, sitting in the Throne Room, And the Pelicans are sitting on the grass, The Knights are getting drunk and falling down (a lot), And the Laurels are all sitting on their...laurels! The BoD is doing something I'm not sure of, The Registry has lost your membership, The Marshallate can't find it's head with both hands and a road-map, And the Heralds are all full of chicken-ship!
THE BANE OF THE COUNTY DOWN (c) copyright 1991 W.J. Bethancourt (Tune: "Star Of The County Down") I love to parody popular songs, and "Star of the County Down" is one of those wonderful songs that -everybody- loves....which made it an obvious target! Am C G Near Banbridge town in the County Down Am G One morning last July Am C G Down a boreen green came a keen colleen Am G Am And she smiled as she passed me by. C G7 She looked so sweet from her two left feet C G7 And her neat little pretty crossed eyes Am C G With a wart on her nose and a run in her hose Am G Am She was scaring the passers-by! C G7 CHORUS: From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay C G7 And from Galway to Dublin town, Am C G No maid I've met could scare me yet Am G Am Like the girl from the County Down! She'd one yellow eye and a look so sly And a nose like the rose in bloom And you winced at each note from her wattled throat As she murdered an Irish tune At the pattern dance you were held in a trance As she fell to the floor in a jig, And out by the well you couldn't tell This girl from the farmer's pig! Such an ugly sow, she aborted cows And she curdled the milk in the jar And it was sure death for to smell her breath For it melted the high road's tar! The flowers died and the babies cried And the green grass all turned brown The dogs all howled and the cats all yowled At the girl from the County Down! As she onward sped sure I scratched my head For she gave me a flea-bite there And I says, says I, to a passer by, "Who's the pig with the bugs in her hair?" He smiled at me and he said, said he, "That's the rust on Ireland's crown! That's Molly Magee!" and he spit on me, "She's the Bane Of The County Down!" At the harvest fair she'll be surely there, With her zits and her runny nose With her toothless grin and her double chin Hunting husbands, I suppose! I was terrified so I ran and cried And the seat of my pants turned brown! I've ne'er seen quite such a frightening sight As the girl from the County Down!
BANNED FROM ESTRELLA (Tune: "Banned From Argo") (c) copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III All rights reserved Well??!! Everyone -else- has parodied "Banned From Argo" so I figured one about the western SCA's biggest gathering would be fun. Oh, we pulled into Estrella Park, a-lookin' for the War, Then searched 'round for a parking space for sixteen hours or more; So we went to the autocrat, who looked up, bright and gay: "Okay," she said, "Park over there! It's just three miles away" And we're banned from Estrella, everyone; Yes, we're banned from Estrella, we just had a little fun. We're gonna have a battle there, for just three days or four, In SunDragon, at the great Estrella War. We went to the evening's revels, a-following the drums Lookin' for some Tulley Dew, we really wanted some! Along came a bunch of dancers, and they looked mighty keen Alonzo fondled one of them; she was the Outland's Queen! //OOPS!// We saw a bunch of Cavaliers, all dressed in fancy lace With polished boots and perfumed hair, each one a pretty face We thought we'd roust them out a bit; we took off at a run: Hrothgar took a musket ball! -Their- fops all carry -guns!- Jane wore Elizabethans, with hoops and lace and all And went off to the Royal tent to join in Giles' Ball The wind came up, and knocked us flat, it was an awful sight; Got under poor Jane's hoopskirts and she took off like a kite! Master Giles was walking 'round, with his fancy hat. Arnulf looked him up and down and exclaimed "Fancy that!" "I've traveled this world far and wide, a million miles or more," "But a 'Lizabethan Navajo I have never seen before!" We all took off for Thunder, to listen to the drums And watch the belly-dancers where the fiery likker runs Lokisson was sweating hard, his eyes began to gleam; We dropped an ice cube down his pants and the damn thing turned to steam!
THE BARD'S SONG (c) copyright 1990 W. J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "Dublin City") As I walked out one quiet evening At the hour of twelve at night Who should I meet but a fair young maiden Combin' her hair by candle light; Lassie, I have come a-courtin' Your kind favours for to win And if you'd heed my petition I would be your Paladin... (CHORUS) Gather roses in the Springtime Gather roses while ye may, Time is passing; roses wither; Winter comes; we're here -today-. Have you seen the dew a-formin' On the grass at early morn? Have you seen the forest quiet, Or a stag that's barely born? Have you seen the dawn a-breakin' O'er the Western Ocean's tide? Have you felt my heart a-beatin' When it's held close to your side? I can give no gold or silver, I can give no fields of land, I can give no servants brisk To wait on you both foot and hand; I can give you wide roads callin' Wind and Rain, and Moon and Sun, Songs to sing, and love and laughter, Dresses made of plain home-spun. Come dance with me upon the greensward in the moonlight, in the Spring. Dance with me within the forest Dance with me within the ring! Earth below us, stars above us, Fire and water by our side, Dance with me within the moonlight, Dance with me, and be my Bride!
THE BLACK FLAG (c) copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "The Red Flag,") nb: do -not- sing this to "O Tannenbaum/Maryland." There is a better tune used by Billy Bragg....and myself.....get that one! It is a variant of the 1640's tune "The King's Head," known in America as "Soldier's Joy." D Our battle flag is somber black A It flies in front of our attack D G Our warrior's mark, the Kingdom's shield, D A They shall not pass; we will not yield! CHORUS: Then raise the night-black standard high Beneath it's folds we'll live and die! Tho cowards flinch and traitors sneer We'll keep the black flag flying here! It waved above our honored knights In battle-line and warrior fight It witnessed many a solemn vow: We shall not change it's color now! It well recalls the triumphs past That brought us victory at last! The banner dark; a symbol plain So let it fly out unashamed! With heads uncovered swear we all To bear it onward till we fall! They cringe beneath a tyrant Crown That haul that sacred emblem down!
BLESSED BE AGAIN! (c) copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "One Misty Moisty Morning" (Trad.) I figured that a song about the Ritual Year would be neat, and thought about it for several months. Then the chorus of this one hit me, and the song was off and running. This one really swings! D Bm G A Upon a dark and windy hill, on Samhain's eldritch night D C A I saw the Crone with withered hands by balefire's burning light D Bm G A Her eyes were full of wisdom, the threads of life she span D Bm And sang "Blessed Be! And Blessed Be! G A D And Blessed Be again!" As I walked out on Yuletide, the winter winds blew cold I saw the Winter King a-standing, grey and grim and old His cloak was pulled around him, a Child was in his hand And he sang "Blessed Be! And Blessed Be! And Blessed Be again!" Upon the morn of Brigit's Day, I saw a lovely sight The Goddess standing by me, all crowned in starry light The crescent Moon beneath her feet, the stars were in her hand She sang "Blessed Be! And Blessed Be! And Blessed Be again!" Upon the first of April, I saw the Holy Fool He was a merry prankster, the Lord of all Misrule! He looked at me, and winked an eye, and danced and sang and then He sang "Blessed Be! And Blessed Be! And Blessed Be again!" Ostara came with blossoms, life flourished everywhere I saw the Mother smiling, with flowers in Her hair She stood among the growing fields, in heather and in glen And sang "Blessed Be! And Blessed Be! And Blessed Be again!" As I walked out one May morning, t'was on the blooming heather I saw a Maiden dancing there, in fair and sunny weather The Beltane fires were burning high, the dancers round did spin And they sang "Blessed Be! And Blessed Be! And Blessed Be again!" Upon Midsummer's heady day, I saw John Barleycorn Walking proud and tall there in the sunny shining morn His beard was long and golden, he looked at me and then He sang "Blessed Be! And Blessed Be! And Blessed Be again!" Upon a singing Summer day, at dawn on Lammastide I saw the Craftsman smiling, on sunbeams he did ride He brings us light and knowledge, to help our fellow men He sang "Blessed Be! And Blessed Be! And Blessed Be again!" Upon a chilly autumn day, all sheltered from the storm I saw the Harvest safe at home, the families snug and warm They sat and gave their thanks, and they laughed and smiled and then They sang "Blessed Be! And Blessed Be! And Blessed Be again!" The Spiral Dance goes on and on, the King and Youth and Child The Gentle Mother, Aged Crone, and Maiden meek and mild And so the Yearly Circle turns in eternal spin So sing "Blessed Be! And Blessed Be! And Blessed Be again!" And "Merry Meet! And Merry Part! And Merry Meet Again!"
BEATIE, BEATIE, BEAT! (c) copyright 1978 W.J.Bethancourt III Gunwald advances, Johann retreats (3X) but no one's going beatie beatie beat (Chorus): Now they are going beatie beatie beat! (3X) And which will be the last upon his feet? Gunwald advances, Johann retreats Johann advances, Gunwald retreats Gunwald advances...Gunwald retreats? But no one's going beatie beatie beat! Now they are going beatie beatie beat! (3X) And Johann's just so much dead meat! (Written, off the cuff, as a sung description of a combat in Crown Lists....written as it happened, while it happened.)
BEDLAM BELLS (c) copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "Mad Maudlin" aka "Tom O'Bedlam") This was written as a theme song for the Bedlam Bells Morris dance troupe, and originally improvised at WesterCon 45, Phoenix, AZ. Thank Ghu I had my tape running, so when we got home, I finished it up. Tune guitar: DADGBD D C Out upon the Borderlands D C D I've watched the stars a-falling D C I've drunk deep from Mad River and D C D I've heard my soul a-calling CHORUS: Still I sing bonny bells, bonny mad bells, Bedlam Bells are bonny! For we all go bare and we live by the air And we want your drink and money! I now repent that ever My staff hath murder'd giants Myself was so disdain-ed My bells can call the thunder! My wits are lost since me I cros't I stamp my feet and tread the dance Which makes me go thus chain-ed And split the sky in sunder! To find our wits in Bordertown, My horn is made of Elven-blades, Ten thousand years we'll travel I stole it cross the Border! And maudlin go on dancing toes, The rainbow there is this I wear To save our shoes from gravel For my wits are out of order! I crossed into fair Elfland I went to Digger's Kitchen To find the soul I'd squandered To beg some food one morning To hunt my sighs in children's eyes I got my dreams served piping hot But still my soul had wandered And saw a city burning I had an Elfin lady, I'll wander thru the Borderlands And took her for to wife me With feathers in my hair-o She sleeps the day, she sings the night With my true love close to my side And hearkens to delight me! And back and sides go bare-o! Both in and out of Bordertown I'll dance the day, I'll dance the night I've drank Mad River's water And spend my time a-singing And stood upon the Bridge O'Dread Dance out the old, ring in the new And watched the sudden slaughter! With Bedlam Bells a-ringing! Take a drink for Tom of Bedlam Take a drink from the river's water! And speak in sighs from darkened eyes And court the River's daughter!
BLACK AND WHITE CAT (c)copyright 1995 W.J. Bethancourt III C G7 Some folks like their tweety-birds, and others like their dogs C Some folks keep a parakeet, and others just keep hogs E7 F There's parrots, fish and great big snakes, I draw the line at that C G7 Me, I keep it simple, I live with a black and white cat. F CHORUS: I've got me a silly black and white cat C And he's not too thin and he's not too fat G7 He's happy to be just where he's at _______ G7 C And he talks to me in the mornin' He sits in the sun in the windowsill to see the world go by Then he has a wash and a brush-up, and gives a happy sigh He waits for the sun to drift on down, and looks at the evening stars Then, with a pop, he disappears and goes to visit Mars! CHORUS: I've got me a silly black and white cat And he's not too thin and he's not too fat He's happy to be just where he's at ______ And he eats his lunch when he wants to! He comes back home with a happy grin, and tells me about his day All about the time he had, and the one that got away. The fight he had at the Asteroid Bar, the barmaid was so shy My cat might seem a little beat up, but you should see the other guy! CHORUS: I've got me a silly black and white cat And he's not too thin and he's not too fat He's happy to be just where he's at ______ And he's too darn smart for his britches! He's got girlfriends stashed all over the place, in college towns and bars He's got one down on Venus, and another one on Mars He's got one in the asteroids, she is a little doll, But the one up on Arcturus is the prettiest of all! CHORUS: I've got me a silly black and white cat And he's not too thin and he's not too fat He's happy to be just where he's at ______ And he talks to me in the mornin'!
BLIND FIDDLER (c) copyright 1994 W.J. Bethancourt III (based on a traditional ballad of the 1850's) This is another "Bordertown" song. It uses the same melody as "We Did It To Ourselves," but this one is done in Dorian mode rather than a minor key, and no chorus. I figgered that filing off the serial numbers and re-treading it (boy is THAT a mixed metaphor!) more along the lines of the original ballad's tune wouldn't hurt. I lost my eyes in the Harlan pits in the year of '56 Pullin' a faulty drill chain that was out of fix It bounded from its bed and there concealed my doom I am a blind fiddler, far from my home I've been to San Francisco, I've been to Dr. Lane He operated on my eyes but nothing could he gain He told me that I'd never see and it's no cause to mourn I am a blind fiddler, far from my home I tried the other doctors but they were no help to me My eyes are gone, the world is black, my God! I cannot see! The preacher said he'd heal me, but nothing could be done I am a blind fiddler, far from my home I played upon the city streets to earn my daily bread With no place I could lay me down to rest my weary head I swear I will not take to drink, and neither will I run I am a blind fiddler, far from my home A young girl pressed some oak and ash into my groping hands And said "Go down to Bordertown and find the Borderlands." I have not got a thing to lose, my chances they are none I am a blind fiddler, far from my home I came out to the Borderlands to find another way T'was magic gave me back my eyes, 'tis here that I will stay There's magic in my fiddle here, from here I will not roam And be a blind fiddler, far from my home
BUGS ON THE BARONESS (c) copyright 1974, 1990 W.J.Bethancourt III (Tune: Waltzing Matilda) or: Who was that Vermin I saw you with last, Knight? or: There may be Lice on all you Knice, but there ain't no Lice on me Once there was a Barony howling in the wilderness nestled in the Valley where the River doesn't flow and the folks were driven buggy by the insects in the Revel Hall Authenticity is wonderful, but this doesn't go! Bugs on the Baroness, bugs on the Baroness! That was the cry that you heard all the day and the scratching can be heard from Ysgithr to Ered Sul why did we come here? Let's go away! See them all a scratching, nestled in their armour tight the fleas have a melee team that's challenging the field! call Truly Nolen! Someone's gotta help us out! the crabs are nesting in our helms but we'll never yield! (chorus) Dawn comes a-breaking, the bugs have won the Coronet... flea-infested Conan-clones in piles upon the lawn where is the Barony? The bugs have eaten everyone... termites got the stick-jocks, and all their sticks are gone! (chorus)
BYTE OF THE LOAN SNARK (A Filkish Lullaby) -Matt Mason, Joe Bethancourt (c) copyright 1992 Matt Mason/Joe Bethancourt (Tune: "Mack the Knife") This was composed over the FILK echo on FIDOnet over a period of several weeks of Lewis Caroll nuttiness..... 1) Oh the Snark bites With his teeth, dear And he keeps them Dingy grey There's a Boojum Under your bed, dear But we keep it Locked away... 2) Oh a Snark might 4) Don't go walking Be a Boojum In the park, dear, But a Boojum In the park, dear, Is a Snark. After dark. If you meet one You might meet with Say your prayers, dear Something hungry If you walk out Like a Boojum! After dark! Like a Snark! 3) Jabberwocky; 5) In your closet Bandersnatches; Late at night, dear, Jub-Jub birds that There's a rustle Claw and bite. Of scaly skin; All are nasty It's the Boojum Little critters Come to GET you! That live under Ain't no way that Your bed at night! You can win! 6) Susie Johnson Mary Williams Jenny Smith and Billy Brown; All were eaten By the Boojum. Now go to sleep And settle down! (repeat verse 1 or verse 4)
CELTIC CIRCLE DANCE (c) copyright 1984, 1992 W. J. Bethancourt III tune: "Same Old Man/Leatherwing Bat" (Trad. Appalachian) tune guitar: DADGBD This is another neo-Pagan oriented song, with a little British Isles history thrown in.....these are -all- the words (so far!) that I didn't record on "Celtic Circle Dance." D C Hi said the Norn, sittin in the sand D Once I talked to a great Grey Man D C Spun three times and said with a sigh D C D Hadn't been for the Runes had His other eye! Chorus: Hi diddle i diddle i day Hi diddle i diddle i diddle ay Hi di diddle i diddle i day Fol the dink a dum diddle do di day Hi said the Lady, dressed in green Came the Stag from oaken wood Prettiest thing I've ever seen Saw the Lady where She stood She went down underneath the hill By the fire burning bright And came back out of Her own free will Came to know His heart's delight! Brian Boru, on Irish ground Hail to the Lady, One in Three Walked three times the Island round We welcome You and honour Thee Norsemen came lookin for a fight As You light and guard the night just another Irish Saturday night! Honour now our sacred rite! Hi said Lugh on the banquet night Hi said the Lady dressed in white A poet and a player and a good wheelwright Sang the Day and sang the Night A harper and a warrior and none the least: Sang the Land and sang the Sea A Druid and he got in to the Feast! Sang the Song, and then sang me! Harold Haardrada's face was red! Hail to the Lord at the Lady's side Came to Britain and he wound up dead Master of the Hunt, in the day You ride Stamford Bridge is where he's found Fire burn and fire bright Got six feet of English ground Honour now our sacred rite! The Legion with its Eagles bright The Circle forms, the Circle flows Marched into the Pictish night The Circle goes where no man knows Met them there upon the sand Hail to the Lady, one in three: Gave 'em up to the Wicker Man! Present is past and past is me! Eight-legged steed and hound of Hel By Sword and Harp, and Irish Hound The One-Eyed Man, he loves ya well Blessed Be: the Day I've found Fire burn and fire spark Hail to the Lady, one in Three Are you then feared of the dark? Present is Past and Past is WE Rhiannon's Birds are still in flight Fire and Water, Air and Earth all thru the day, all thru the night The Cauldron calls for our rebirth Hail to the Lady, one in Three Hail to the Lady, three times three Present is past and past is Thee! The Circle's cast; so mote it be! Salt and oil and mirror bright From East and South and West and North Fire and fleet and candlelight Call the Powers to come forth! By fin and feather, leaf and tree, Hail to the Lady, three times three, Fill the Cup and Blessed Be! The Circle's cast; so mote it be! From the misty crystal sea By Oak and Ash and Holy Thorn Came the Lady to the lea Blessed Be the day you're born! Sword and Roses in Her Hand Fire burn and fire bright Spread their seeds thruout the Land Walk in safety thru the night
BORDERLANDS (c) copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III Based on the _Bordertown_ stories...... Dm Out on the Border, Mad River runs F Dm Don't drink the water, it ain't no fun Dm Oak and Ash won't steer you wrong C Dm Remember me; remember my song. Out on the Border, in Bordertown Ain't no place to settle down Got no family, got no friends Could be the place where the dreams all end Little girl, where ya goin' to? To a midnight rendezvous? The hoot-owl's cried, the wind blows cold; Where'd y'get those eyes that are so old? Between the worlds lies Bordertown Where your world turns upside down. Elfin magic in the cyberstream; Polished leather on an Elven Queen. Gates of Elfland open wide Manchild steps to the other side. A little crazy, a little mad, A little happy, a little sad. Out on the Border, Mad River runs Don't drink the water, it ain't no fun Oak and Ash won't steer you wrong Remember me; remember my song.
DOG SOUP! (c) copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III A lady I once knew had a Stupid Dog that I was always threatening to sell to the Hohokam to make into soup. One night, this song hit me, so I wrote it up and sang it......I still get letters from the ASPCA...... G D Down the road from where I live's a little diner D G And some friendly foreign folks serve up the meal C G Em Right behind the doggie pound is where it can be found A7 D And the prices are so cheap, it is a steal! C G CHORUS: Dog soup! It really -is- delicious C G D Dog soup! If you really are ambitious G You can eat a bowl or two C Take some home for Grandma too! G D G It's exotic foreign food, -and- inexpensive! Take some noodles and some carrots and some onions Take some spices and some other odds and ends Then go into your neighborhood, find a doggie that looks good And make soup out of Man's Best Friend! Now cats tend to be a little stringy And eating children gets you talked about But if you wanna be in clover, tell ol' Rover to come over! And then go dining out!
DRAGONDREAMS (c) 1991 W.J.Bethancourt III All Rights Reserved My Lady dreams of dragons as she sleeps at night And they play in sunshine, peeking out from underneath the couch One has got a ball of string, it rolls across the floor She's smiling at the sight She snuggles up close in my arms; I love her more and more The night is soft; the dragons close the door My Lady plays with dragons in the early morn One has learned to fetch a ball, it soars into the air Another's got into the cookies, head first in the box. A litter's just been born She snuggles close into my side, there's sunshine in her hair I fall in love again each time she's there My Lady talks with dragons in the afternoon Hearing tales of places on the other side of time Wisdom of an ancient race from centuries gone by And we'll be sleeping soon She lays her head upon my shoulder as the clocks all chime The dragons play our love in pantomime (repeat verse one)
DUELING HERALDS (c) copyright 1991 W.J.Bethancourt III (Tune: "Dueling Banjos") This takes the form of a duet between two Heralds..... G My Lords and Ladies, pray attend G (My Lords and Ladies, pray attend) G Hush your speech and pray forfend! G (Hush your speech and pray forfend!) C From interrupting Royal Court! C (From interrupting Royal Court!) G We'll truly try to keep this short! G (We'll truly try to keep this short!) D His Majesty D (His Majesty) D Wishes Me D (Wishes Me) G To announce announcements to you all G (To announce announcements to you all) G To attend His Presence in this Hall G (To attend His Presence in this Hall) [together to "Yankee Doodle" theme:] G His Majesty commands you all G G7 Draw nigh and pray attend....for.... [single herald sings:] C G Please remember leave the site as clean as clean can be D7 G [And do not] smoke within the Hall, for it's not period, you see C G [And try to] speak forsoothly to the gentles partying tonight D7 G [For we're the] SCA, and we're the ones who try to get it right! My Lords and Ladies, pray attend (My Lords and Ladies, pray attend) We as Heralds condesend (We as Heralds condesend) To blazon forth the finest Arms (To blazon forth the finest Arms) That ever graced a Kingdom's charms (That ever graced a Kingdom's charms) Cheqy bendy plumetty (Cheqy bendy plumetty) Gyronny! (Arondy!) I believe, sir, you have got it wrong! (But that's how Locksley wrote the song!) [together to "Yankee Doodle" theme:] His Majesty commands you all Draw nigh and pray attend....for.... [the second Herald sings:] Three spiders rampant passant statant on a field of green Surrounded by a bordure compony is what we mean Engorged with crowns of several kinds, and que-fourchee to boot And charged with Fleurs-de-Lis in pink [spoken: "In pink?" "Well, it -could- have been flamingos!"] And semee'd in bandicoots! [both: "ARRGGGHHH!"] My Lords and Ladies, pray attend (My Lords and Ladies, pray attend) And please do not misapprehend (And please do not misapprehend) For we in our pomposity (For we in our pomposity) Perpetuate atrocity (Perpetuate atrocity) By singing you this awful song (By singing you this awful song) We know that it is much too long! (We know that it is much too long!) His Majesty Is kicking me! So we'll shut up and take our leave (So we'll shut up and take our leave) So we'll shut up and take our leave (So we'll shut up and take our leave) (fade out and sneak off, if possible....)
FACE DOWN IN THE CATBOX BLUES (c) copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III One night, we were listening to a friend of ours tell us about his last drunk, that culminated when he passed out, face down, in the catbox. The song jumped out at me, I wrote it on a napkin, and promptly forgot about it. It surfaced as I was compiling this songbook, so I figgered I may as well throw it in. E7 Got home last night, drunk to the bottom of my shoes A7 E7 My wife was gone and she took all the furniture, too A7 E7 Took my dog and my last bottle of good booze.... B7 E7 I got the left all alone, face down in the catbox blues She left me a note, said I was slime from the primeval ooze She was tired of living with me, tired of my stupid moves Guess I've hit the bottom, guess I've really paid my dues I got the left all alone, face down in the catbox blues A7 E7 Now nobody knows the really deep....trouble....I'm in F#7 B7 To build another castle in this kind of sand would be a sin! So call up the papers, tell everybody the news This is really the pits; this has really lit my fuze This is finally it, I've really got nothing left to lose I got the left all alone, face down in the catbox blues
FIDDLER'S GREEN (c) 1990 W.J.Bethancourt III (Tune: "Fiddler's Green") C Am As I went a-walking one evening so rare C G To view the still waters and taste the cool air F C I heard an old SCAdian singing this song G F G Sayin', "Take me away boys, my time is not long..... C G C CHORUS: Wrap me up in me armor and surcoat; C G No more in the Lists I'll be seen! F C Just tell all the ladies, I've not gone to Hades, G G7 C And I'll see you someday on Fiddler's Green." Now Fiddler's Green is a place I've heard tell Where all SCAdians go, if they don't go to hell! Where the weather is fair and the maidens do play, And the Board of Directors are far, far away..... Where the weather is perfect, and there's never rain, And going to Tourneys is never a pain! You lie at your leisure, there's no work to do, While the rivers are made of pure Tullimore Dew.....! Where pavilions set themselves up on their own, And the Seneshals run things with never a moan! Beside the green woodlands, and near a pure creek, And the Heralds are all quite unable to speak......! I don't need no wings, nor the halo I lack; Just give me a horse and a city to sack! I'll play me old cittern as we ride along And the wind from the mountains will sing me this song.....
THE FIVE HUNDRED POUND MOUSE BLUES (From the album: "CactusCon Choruses: NASFIC 1987") (c) copyright 1974 W.J. Bethancourt III This is what's called a "4 O'Clock in the Morning" song, when everyone gets pretty wierd from lack of sleep. E7 A7 E7 There's a 500 pound mouse walkin' down the streets of the city A7 E7 There's a 500 pound mouse walkin' down the streets of the city B7 Walkin' down them alleyways, sayin' A7 E7 "HERE KITTY, KITTY, KITTY!" There's a 500 pound canary bird walkin' down the city street There's a 500 pound canary bird wearin' a black leather jacket Carryin' chains... Army boots... And a tattoo! And walkin' down the city street Walkin' down them alleyways right at th' mouse and sayin' "TWEET! TWEET!" Now you gotta imagine a 500 pound mouse walkin' down the street 'bout 5 o'clock in the afternoon squashin' cars, knockin' over garbage cans, eatin' little kids, scarin' the hell out of the fuzz....thinkin' he's a refugee from a Japanese monster movie on Channel 5.....walks round the corner of the building thinkin' he's the biggest, ugliest thing on the face of the earth.... and he walks right on the tail of an eight thousand pound cat..... ...wearin' Hell's Angels colors...... OOPS! That'll give a 500 pound mouse a -lotta- blues -real fast-, dear hearts! Now that's the tale of the five hundred pound mouse ('cause that's just about all the cat left....) We gonna take the tail of the five hundred pound mouse and put it up there on the shelf And if you want any more of this silly little song.... You go home and you sing it to yourself!
FISH SONGS (c) copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "Fish Heads") Everybody and their Uncle have done a parody of this one about Leslie, but I didn't know that at the time.....oh well! A D A CHORUS: Fish songs, Fish songs, lovely little Fish songs D A E7 A Fish songs, Fish songs, eat them up, yum! A D A All about the holocaust, all about survival D A E7 A All about living in outer space All in A minor, then an E seventh They are very complicated when they use G! CHORUS I took a Fish song to the local coffeehouse They didn't understand it; I went away! Anarchistic rabble-rousing roly-poly Fish songs Not necessarily Politic'ly Correct! CHORUS Sing a Fish song; words by Rudyard Kipling All in A minor, eat them up, yum! CHORUS
GUN CONTROL COME (c) copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "The Banana Boat Song") Every year, the local ACLU chapter puts on a satiric revue. As it happened, the fella in charge of it was on FILK echo, and I complained about the liberal bias of many of the songs. He promptly asked me to write them a song for the revue, of a subject of my own choosing.....muahahahahah! They were big enough to perform it, and it made quite a few people squirm. G C G Day-o...Day-ay-ay-o! G D G Gun control come, they'll be raiding our homes! G We all support the Bill of Rights! G D7 Gun control come, they'll be raiding our homes! G Except that part that we don't like! G D7 Gun control come, they'll be raiding our homes! Those evil guns should all be barred! Except the cops and the Army and the Kennedy bodyguard! We attack the symptom, that's the answer! Like giving asprin for lung cancer! Take away the guns, we have no crime! (And we've lived in Oz for a very long time!) [note: singer should get a cockeyed and very vague look on his/her face on this verse .... Fuzzy Liberal sort of thing] We can trust the government American! Just ask a whale or an Indian! Freedom of Choice for your daughters and sons! Except when they want to own a gun! The ultimate defense of the laws of the land: Is educated citizens with weapons at hand! The truth is pretty self-evident to me: The right to bear arms is the right to be free! (stop suddenly, and say, in a thick German accent:) "So! All of you are nodt zinging! Vell! Ven -one- piece of der Bill of Rights goes avay, maybe pretty soon the rest follows, nicht wahr? Der Jews didn't haff guns either.....but der -SS-did! Und ven der -lawyers- don't haff guns.....heheheh!" (not in German accent:) Of course, that can't happen here........or can it? Day-o...Day-ay-ay-o! Gun control come, they'll be raiding our homes!
HARD TIMES OF OLD ATENVELDT (c) Copyright 1991 W.J.Bethancourt III Come all sons of Aten who travel along, I pray, come and tell me where our Kingdom has gone Long time have I travelled, and I cannot find none CHORUS: And it's oh, the hard times of old Aten! In Old Atenveldt very hard times! You can go for the Crown in the Lists, it is true If you're not of the "in crowd," there's none there for you So what's a young fighter, and his Lady to do? You will see poor Old Atenveldt, out in the cold Our customs are laughed at, our Laws are "too old" And it breaks my heart to be thus bought and sold! Our Knights and our fighters have just come from war And fighting for Queen and for Kingdom this year Come home to what? Should have stayed where they were! SunDragon and Atenveldt, Tyr Ysgithr Mons Tinitris and all of the Sunland that are He that has ears: Let him hear! Let him hear! And now to conclude and to finish, the key Is the hope that the Sunland will someday be free; United we stand: a Kingdom to be! And sing: Oh, the good times of old Aten In Old Atenveldt, jolly good times!
HELLO GOODBYE HELLO (c) copyright 1993 W.J. Bethancourt III Your visit now is over, your drifting dream is done 'Tis time now to remember, the Journey's just begun The peaceful fields of Summerland, to rest in Lady's Grace To know the lessons that you've learned; to know your real face To know the fullness of your lives, to know the reasons why: CHORUS I: (1st voice) Goodbye! (2nd voice) Hello! (1st voice) Goodbye! (2nd voice) Hello! (1st voice) Goodbye! (2nd voice) Hello! (together) Goodbye! Your friends and lovers left behind to walk an earthly way Bid you "Blessed Be," as we are parted on this day Our paths will join again, my friend, in Summerland's bright glow With joy and sorrow mixed we bid you "Welcome" as you go And so we see a Mystery, we're laughing as we cry: CHORUS Here's an end to pain and sorrow, here's an end to bitter tears Walk in joy beside the Lord and Lady, put away your fears! Look forward to your future, look back at where you've been Say "merry meet, and merry part, and merry meet again!" With joy we send you on your Way; we're sad to see you go: CHORUS II: (1st voice) Hello! (2nd voice) Goodbye! (1st voice) Hello! (2nd voice) Goodbye! (1st voice) Hello! (2nd voice) Goodbye! (together) Hello! The life the Lady loaned you comes full circle one more time And the Universe keeps spinning on, a Circle so sublime A circle now is ended here, a circle's just begun, The End is the Beginning, the Dance is never done! Sunset changes to sunrise; a baby starts to cry..... CHORUS I CHORUS II
THE HERALDS SAID TO ME -Joe and Cherie Bethancourt (c) copyright 1988, 1990 W.J.Bethancourt III (sung to the tune (obviously) of the 12 Days of Christmas) I -love- bugging heralds in the SCA......they turn such glorious shades of purpure and vert...... 1. The first time I sent my device, The Heralds said to me "It violates the Rule of Three" 2. The next time I tried it, the Heralds said to me "We changed the forms, and it violates the Rule of Three". 3. The third time I tried, and the Heralds said to me, "We upped the fees, we changed the forms, and it violates the Rule of Three". 4. Another time I tried and the Heralds said to me, "We haven't got it, we upped the fees, we changed the forms, and it violates the Rule of Three". 5. The fifth time I tried it, the Heralds said to me, "In a decision rendered by the College of Arms on August 1st, A.S. V it was decided that this style of heraldic design was not appropriate to the aims and intentions of the Corporate Body. Holy! Holy! Holy! " note: verse 5 is delivered in an extremely fast, mono-tone, similiar to a Gregorian Chant. " ....we haven't got it, we upped the fees, we changed the forms, and it violates the Rule of Three." 6. I tried it a sixth time, and the Heralds said to me, "We changed the rules, &c" 7. A seventh time I tried and, the Heralds said to me, "It's against the Rule of Tincture, we changed the rules, &c" 8. I tried it once again and the heralds said to me, "It's not a Period design, It's against the Rule of Tincture, We changed the rules, &c" 9. I sent it in once more, and the Heralds said to me, "We changed the rules again, It's not a Period design, it's against the Rule of Tincture, we changed the rules, &c" 10. (sung in cold anger) The LAST time I sent my device, the Heralds said to me (sung in a state of SMUG) "Someone else has got it, &c" (nb: every single one of these reasons has been used by the College of Arms of the SCA, at one point or another, to reject perfectly good heraldry, along with some even MORE stupid. If the shoe fits....................!!!!!!!!)
HERE I AM (c) copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "Turn The Page") Another _Bordertown_ song........ So you've made it to the Border Lookin' for a place to crash And you find a spot to sleep in In the alley with the trash And you're hopin' no one sees you As you hug your Oak and Ash You can see the Elven riders On their bikes that got no wheels And you watch them cruisin' past you And you wonder what you feel Is reality a memory Or is it something real? So here I am, on the street again Here I am, rant and rage! Here I am, I hear the Bells again Here I am, turn the page! Out on the street they're dancin' To a new and different song And you wonder what the words are Is is right or is it wrong And you want to join in with them But the alley seems so long The spells are cracklin' round you There's a shimmer in the air And you watch an Elven lady Wonderin' if she's really there Hypnotized by neon lights Reflected in her long red hair CHORUS So you walk into the boulevard And you begin to play your part And underneath the streetlamp You can hear the music start And it pulls you over to it And it almost breaks your heart There's a girl, she's lookin' at you With lightning in her eyes And the harps are playin' softly And you can't identify What the tune is but it seems to be "Hello" and not "Goodbye" CHORUS
I DON'T WANNA BE A KNIGHT! (c) copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "Draft Dodger Rag") Nominally, the SCA recognizes basic things as equal in honour: the Arts, Service to the group, and fighting.....and gives something called "Peerages" for work in them, the Laurel, the Pelican, and Knighthood. Unfortunately, in the minds of some, Knighthood is the only Peerage that's really "worth" anything..."some Peers are more equal than others." It's a pity, because the SCA could have been something so much better. G Well, I'm just a typical Society guy, G# A From a typical Barony D7 I believe in the Crown, I don't put 'em down; G I believe in Chivalry G But when they gave me a rattan stick, G# A To hit folks on the head D7 I looked that guy right in the eye G And this is what I said: CHORUS: I'm a lover, not a fighter, not an armored smiter I don't need to prove a thing I don't look cute in a metal suit, I don't really -wanna- be King! I don't wanna clank and feel like a tank All polished shiny bright! My testosterone don't need a throne: I don't -wanna- be a knight! There's more fun things than bein' King, I -like- wearin' fancy clothes! I'd just get bored with a rattan sword, And sweat offends my nose..... I'd rather flirt with a willing skirt, Or sing a song or three So if you wanna go grunt and sweat, It really don't matter to me! I won't wear a tin can to prove that I'm a man; I don't wanna swing a stick I don't need to be tough and go "play rough" To prove I've got a big ... nose So go have your fun, in the blazing sun, Get heatstroke and black and blue I'll sit in the shade with a willing maid, And point and laugh at you!
IOSEPH'S SONG (c) copyright 1972, 1989 W. J. Bethancourt III (Tune: same as "Song Of Golias") This is a little SCA number patterned after the goliard style. The tune is by Jerry Pournelle, as used for John Meyers Meyers' "Song of Golias." C G7 C Some folks call me many names, others call me crazy C G7 C Tom O'Bedlam's son am I, for my mind is hazy! F Dm7 F G7 I'd rather sing a song than work (if it's not too phrasey!) C G C Lengthy rhymes don't bother me.....truth to tell: I'm lazy! Yang, your yurt is very nice, and your Horde is smelly, And I'm sure that yak-meat will nicely fill one's belly! But remember this one line, or you're not worth jelly: FIRST you plunder, THEN you burn! That's how to be rakehelly! My Lady Lorelei your eyes do drive me to distraction And the lovely Care-Cheri causes....petrifaction! But I, and they, quite taken are, so I can't take action... Therefore, Ladies, fill my cup; I'll drink to stupefaction! Now Atenveldt your fighters, all, are most good and gentle And the Ladies, bless 'em all, are most ornamental! But that little Nikki-Toad....has me sentimental Though with boffer in her hand she is argumental! This stupid little song, m'lords, is mostly sung in Latin By the Goliards, of course, from vespers clear to matins! But I prefer a coarser cloth over silk or satins English is more understood, mine enemies to flatten! Good People all, I've made my Song, its' music's well-recited But my voice could use some work; the flowers it has blighted! It's rude and rusty, grim and bad, and squeaky like a door-hinge, But I'm a better Bard than you: I found a rhyme for "orange!"
I GIVE YOU (c) copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III I wrote this one for two people I used to know and sang it at their wedding. G D G Em I couldn't believe that you loved me C D Or that I could love you as well C D G Em Two hearts and two souls joined together as one C D In a love that mere words couldn't tell C D G CHORUS: I give you the days for the livin' C D G I give you the stars in the sky C D G Em I give you the moon and the sun in the morning C D And the joy that you see in my eyes One such as you is a joy to behold And a treasure at the rainbow's end To live all my life with, to love with my heart To laugh with, and to be my friend Come away, O my love, let us be man and wife Join together and live now as one Take my hand, let us walk down the road close together Our journey has only begun
I'LL SEE YOUR SIX! (c) copyright 1993 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "The Sleeping Scotsman") A lovely lady went one night to a revel in the East With dancing and with singing, with wine and Roasted Beast When the revel came unto an end, she started out for home Wrapped well in her woolen cloak, and walking all alone. CHORUS: The things you will run into, the people that you meet Walking all alone upon a New York City street! Now, New York City's not a place for walking in the dark Not in the streets and alleys and especially not the Park But off she went most happily, without a single care Wrapped up in her woolen cloak, all in the midnight air. A street-tough jumped in front of her, with three friends in the night And pulled a six-inch switchblade, that glittered in the light He waved it underneath her nose, and said with fiendish glee: "Give me all your money, girl, this is a robbery!" She gazed upon the switchblade, and smiled a happy smile Said "Boy, you ain't got any brains, and lack a sense of style! You're standing where I want to walk, please move out of my way!" The tough said "Girl, I'll cut you, and rob you anyway!" All wrapped up in her woolen cloak, her garb was quite unseen Her hands were hidden out of sight, and so was chain-mail's gleam... She said "Now, go rob someone else, my money stays with me!" He said, "I'll take your money with my six-inch snickersnee!" The lady's smile got bigger, the robber took a swing The chain-mail took the blow; the lady didn't feel a thing! She pulled a Kirby broadsword, the robber's soul to shrive, And grinned and said, "I'll see your six, and raise you thirty-five!" The bandit gazed upon the sword, and then upon his knife He turned and ran, with his three friends, a-running for his life! Don't think a lady's easy, don't think she's helpless prey, Especially if she is a fighter in the SCA! Now if you don't believe my song, then ask the lady fair With Cheshire Cat upon her shield, a blazon very rare: Sir Trude is her name, me lads, if she should pass your way; The very first of the Lady Knights within the SCA! (yes, folks, it -really- happened!)
I'M JUST ME (c) copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III C I'm just me. G7 Just a plain old ordinary everyday kind of me G7 I'm just me. C Just a fella with a guitar singin' songs as simple as can be F I'm an ordinary guy with some things to say C F Some stories to tell, you see, G7 I'm nobody much at all..... C I'm just me. I'm just me. And I was in love with you from the first day we met, you see. I'm just me. You're my every dream and my deepest hidden fantasy I might make mistakes and even cause you to cry But I hope that you'll agree That I'm hopelessly in love with you Just plain me. I'm just me. Don't expect no perfection, I can only be what I can be. I'm just me. And lookin' at you is the best thing my eyes can see You can try to civilize me, but it might not work 'Cause I'm pig-headed as can be.... I ain't too much of a much; I'm just me.
THE ITSY BITSY TEENY WEENY....... copyright 1989 W.J.Bethancourt III (The tune should be obvious!) (This was written to bug my sweet wife to death with...........heheh!) She was afraid to come out to the Tourney She was worried that "something might show.." She was afraid to come out to the Tourney And the poor thing did NOT want to go... (2 - 3 - 4, tell the people what she wore!) It was an itsy bitsy teeny weenie little rabbit fur bikini That she wore, for the first time, that day. An itsy bitsy teenie weenie little rabbit fur bikini And in her apartment she wanted to stay! One day in the Kingdom of the Middle It happened at a Tourney one day: The Mongols invaded the Middle But the Middle did not want to play... (eins - zwei - drei, but the Dark Horde wouldn't die!) It was an itsy bitsy tiny teenie Nauseating Mongol weenie That they saw, for the first time, that day. An itsy bitsy tiny teenie Nauseating Mongol weenie And the Mongols did NOT go away! Now the Heralds made up a new Rulebook And to read it is some kind of gas! It's a bureaucrat's dream, this new Rulebook Now NOBODY'S blazon can pass! (Win - Place - Show, tell the Heralds where to go!) (insert Bronx cheer!) I want an itsy bitsy teenie weenie little rabbit fur bikini On my shield, as my blazon, today! An itsy bitsy teenie weenie little rabbit fur bikini But "that's offensive" the Heralds all say! I sat down at the Revel last evening To a feast of green meat, and Rat Pie... It was cold, and disgusting, and greasy And I just want to upchuck and die! (6 - 7 - 8, tell them what was on your plate!) It was an itsy bitsy teenie weenie little rabbit fur bikini With a side dish of cold cabbage pie! An itsy bitsy teenie weenie little rabbit fur bikini With the fur on, and NOTHING inside!
JURASSIC PICNIC (c) copyright 1993 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune "Teddy Bear's Picnic") Am E Am E Am E Am Don't go out in the Park today, the power's gone off, you know! C G C G C G C Do not go out in the Park today, it's not a place you should go! F G Beneath the ferns there's something you'll learn C Am Play hide and seek, a twist and a turn: F C F C The 'Raptors are out, and they're gonna have G C a picnic! C G7 Out in Jurassic Park! It's after dark and we have lost our way! G7 C We are wandering all alone, we wanna go home; that's all we have to say! C There's a rumble in the gloom, so give it lots of room! F It's a Tyrannosaur, and he doesn't want to play! With lots of teeth and a big appetite C Am He's stomping around the Park Dm7 G7 C And YOU might be his first entree! E7 So...don't go out in the Park today, you'll only wind up as lunch! The dinosaurs in the Park today will nibble and gobble and crunch! The 'Raptors hunt in a pack, you know They're bigger, and meaner, and you're too slow.... They hide in the trees, where nobody sees... Don't try for your gun, don't bother to run... They're sneaking around and hunting you down... They hunt in a bunch; they want you for lunch... The 'Raptors are out, and they're gonna have a picnic!
THE KINGDOM I LOVED SO WELL (c) copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "Town That I Loved So Well") Another one about the SCA and the Kingdom I helped to build. We have to leave things behind us, though. G D C G In my memory I will always see Am7 D7 G The Kingdom that I loved so well G D C G And back then it seemed that we chased after a Dream Am7 D7 G To escape from the mundane world's hell. G D C G And when times got tough, we could take it enough Am7 D7 And we saw it thru without complainin' G D C G For deep inside grew a burning pride D7 G In the Kingdom I loved so well There was music there, in the clear desert air Like a language that we all could understand I remember the day that the Laurel came my way Singing songs to a fresh, young land There I spent my youth, and to tell you the truth It would be sad to leave it all behind me For I'd learned about life, and I'd found me a wife In the Kingdom I loved so well Now the Dream's not gone, for we still carry on For our spirit may be bruised, but never broken We will not forget for our hearts are set On tomorrow, and a Dream once again For I know right well there's a special place in Hell For the ones that turned a Dream into a nightmare I can only pray for a bright, brand new day In the Kingdom I loved so well
LET'S SEND BARNEY TO JURASSIC PARK (Tune: "Wrap Up Your Troubles In Your Old Kit Bag") no damn copyright on this one! Let's send Barney to Jurassic Park! He'll die, die, die! Watch that turkey stumble in the dark And listen to him cry! (keep smiling!) What's that final dying squeak I hear? All that's left is a purple smear! Let's send Barney to Jurassic Park! He'll die, die, die! Let's send Barney to Jurassic Park! He'll die, die, die! The sappy little twit will be an easy mark, So kind and sweet and shy! (and stupid!) Watch him meet Tyrannosaurus Rex! Watch ol' Barney get it in the neck! Let's send Barney to Jurassic Park! He'll die, die, die!
LOCKSLEY MONSTERS -(c) copyright 1974, 1990 W.J.Bethancourt III (to the tune of "Good King Wenceslaus") Locksley Monsters never yield on the field of battle strike the helm and bash the shield make their eyeteeth rattle Bodies on the ground will lie bones will burst in sunder search for Locksleys' enemies: You'll find them six feet under!
LONDON DERRIERE (c) copyright 1990 W.J.Bethancourt III (Tune: "Londonderry Aire" aka "Danny Boy") I always wanted to parody this one with the obvious pun.....sang this at the local Irish pub, and got yelled at thru hysterical laughter..... G C Am7 I watch you walk upon the streets of London G Em Am7 D7 Your mini-skirt stretched tight, and looking sweet G C Am7 I watch you walk, and walk into a lampost G D D7 G I didn't see, upon the London street. G C G So turn your back, and wiggle softly from me! G Am7 D With mini-skirt, (perhaps, no underwear!) G C G Em Your legs are great! But, by the Gods above me! G C D G I watch your wondrous London derriere! The Paris girls are wonders full of beauty, And California grows the long-stemmed L.A. rose, Berlin nights are full of life, and lovely, But London girls don't wear no panty-hose! So turn your back, and wiggle softly from me! And let me watch, and dream a dream so rare: In my hotel, you (CENSORED); (CENSORED) with your London derriere! And as I walk the green green hills of Ireland The farmer's byre comes softly into view I hear the babble of the stream below me And hear the soft sound of the cattle's moo And as the whisp'ring breeze blows on me And Farmer Lon, at quaint Tin's Farm is there; I wonder how he stands the smell at milking The awful smell of Lon Tin's Dairy air!
LOOK OUT BOYS! (c) copyright 1995 W.J. Bethancourt III The Klan came into our town, all dressed in sheets and hoods They burned a cross on someone's lawn in a black neighborhood They shouted out their slogans, with nooses held on high And the black folks stepped out to the street And I heard a Klansman cry: CHORUS: Look out boys! Them folks have got their guns! Look out boys! We better turn and run! They've read the Constitution and they seem to know their rights Look out boys! They're ready for a fight! They opened up a crack house across the street one day The neighbors got together, to make it go away The gangsters yelled and threatened: "You folks are gonna DIE!" And the neighbors stepped out to the street And I heard a gangster cry: They tried to rape a woman down in our street last night You could hear her yelling down the block, she put up quite a fight The bad guys thought they owned the streets, they found it was a lie When the neighbors stepped out to the street And I heard the rapists cry: Some skinheads tried to beat up on a little Jewish kid With six of them and one of him, the odds weren't worth a quid They were having quite a good time, the kid was gonna die When the neighbors stepped out to the street And we heard the skinheads cry: And that's the way it goes my friends, we learn from History It ain't an awful secret, it ain't no mystery There comes a time when you draw the line, when you either do or die C'mon! Let's step out to the street And hear the bad guys cry:
ME AND MY THIRTY OUGHT SIX (c) copyright 1995 W.J. Bethancourt III
This one should be self-explanatory. It's proved to be quite popular indeed. I like to punch holes in pieces of paper At a thousand yards or so Me and my thirty ought six have a good time That's where I like to go I don't care for fishing, and I don't drink at all Nor camping far out in the sticks I just like to punch holes in pieces of paper Me and my thirty ought six! I'm not a redneck, I wear my hair long And I've got a college degree I like to read books, and I don't beat my wife I protect the ecology I'm not a right-wing militia fanatic But I do like to get my kicks Punching small holes in pieces of paper Me and my thirty ought six! I've never shot anyone, nor has my gun I try to be good every day I don't understand why I have to be punished By taking my firearm away Am I some kind of rabid, unspeakable beast 'Cause my fav'rite relaxing trick Is punching small holes in pieces of paper Me and my thirty ought six? So please, Mr. Congressman, think about me As you sit 'neath the Capitol dome I'm just one guy of two hundred million Sitting back here at home I'm no one important, I'm not very rich But -I VOTE- on Elections Day's mix: Punching small holes in pieces of paper .... Me and my thirty ought six!
THE MERCENARY (c) copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "It's a Long, Long Way From There To Here") Being raised in a military family brings this one pretty close to home. It was inspired by the _Aliens_ movies. G7 Am CHORUS: It's a long, long way from there to here F G C Am It's a long long way; it gets further day by day G7 Am It's a long, long way from there to here G7 C It's a long, long way from there to here F G7 C Am We went on board the starships to serve on alien stars F G7 C Am We find a little solace in a hundred dirty bars G7 C It's a long, long way from there to here The only time I feel all right is when I've been a-drinkin' It blots out bloody memories, and keeps me from a-thinkin' It's a long, long way from there to here It almost breaks my heart to remember those at home A thousand light-years out from Earth, and I feel so alone It's a long, long way from there to here We race the light from star to star, a-followin' our Captain And wake from icy cold-sleep beds, and follow him to action It's a long, long way from there to here The Regiment's our family now, the only home we're knowin' Terra's lost among the stars; we don't know where we're goin' It's a long, long way from there to here The only time I feel all right is when I've been a-drinkin' It blots out bloody memories, and keeps me from a-thinkin' It's a long, long way from there to here
M'LADY (THE FUBBA WUBBA SONG) (c) copyright 1987 W.J.Bethancourt III (Tune: "They Call the Wind Maria") SCA slang, "Fubba-Wubba" is an anacronym for Fat Ugly Broad (or Bastard) With A Bad Attitude. There's far too many of them. C Am C Am C Am C Am Away out here they have a name for even the Ump that's Wuggly C Am C F G7 C Am But the last word in Awfulness, M'Lady, you're The Ugly! Am C F G C Am C Am M'Lady, M'Lady, they call the pigs M'Lady! Before I knew M'Lady's name and heard her constant whinin' I thought all girls were beautiful and the sun was always shinin' Then one day, M'Lady came, and stopped the clocks from tickin' She curdled milk, aborted cows, and stopped my stamps from stickin'! (chorus) Away out here they have a name for everything worth seein' But if M'Lady looks at you, then soon you will be fleein' M'Lady disappeared one day, and that for sure is scary She was the result of experiments by a deranged Vetenary! (chorus)
MOLLY MALONE (c) 1991 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "Molly Malone") Another "4 O'Clock in the Morning" song...... C G In Dublin's fair city, where the girls have no (CENSORED) C G T'was there that I first met sweet Molly Malone C G You could have her for a penny, and be one of many, C G C But for sixpence she would act alive, alive-o! C G7 Alive, alive-o! Alive alive-o! C G G7 C But for sixpence she would act alive, alive-o! She was a street walker, and sure t'was no wonder For so were her mother and grandmother too, With a mattress on the barrow, thru streets broad and narrow, And for sixpence they would act alive, alive-o! Alive, alive-o! Alive alive-o! And for sixpence they would act alive, alive-o! She died of a fever, and no one could save her; It was caught from a folkie from Ontario, Now her ghost wheels the barrow thru streets broad and narrow But a ghost can't be had that's alive, alive-o! Alive, alive-o! Alive alive-o! But a ghost can't be had that's alive, alive-o!
THE MONGOLS ARE A FUNNY RACE (c) copyright 1990 W.J.Bethancourt III (Tune: "Madamoiselle From Armetieres") An SCA-Dark Horde Obnoxious Song to annoy people with. C The Mongols are a funny race: G7 So are you! G7 They hold the Kingdom in distaste, C It is true! C F Their dispositions are rather mean; C G7 Their verses tend to be unclean! C G7 C Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! They make their chiefest pleasure still So they do, To do the KaKhan's evil will All over you! And when they're given no indication They use their own imagination! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! When the Mongols they did see First time thru, The Middle Kingdom climbed a tree! It is true! Two sword-brothers and KaKhan Yang, They thought it was a biker gang! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! Now Yang's no longer with the Horde Sad, but true! But Middle Kingdom's never bored It is true! With Tuchux, Mongols and Moritu The Kingdoms don't know what to do! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! The Horde has met in Kurultai They spoke of you! They've raised a mighty battle cry! HO! WATSU! They're marching out with cool aplomb It's rumored that they have THE BOMB! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! The Noyen is an old, old man It is true! He drinks his whiskey from a can It is true! Experience and treachery Will win o'er youth and bravery! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! Ioseph is a Cavalier It is true! He never touches wine or beer It is true! TarKhan of the White Oak boys, Gunpowder weapons are their toys! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! Their ninjas work so very well So they do! They don't wear no damn turtle shells It is true! They can turn up anywhere, They know the brand of your underwear! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! Red Cherie's a lovely girl, It is true! A cute and cuddly precious pearl, It is true! You know what they say about red-heads? You piss her off, you wind up dead! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! Unca Wu's a funny guy It is true! He makes the ladies blink and sigh It's TWUE! It's TWUE! He talks just like Diogenes And then goes swinging thru the trees! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! Samak is down with PMS It is true! The Kingdom is in great distress! Too, too true! He's looking for to take your life That's why he's called Samak the Knife! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! Given a choice, the Horde will choose This is true! Irish songs and Irish booze! So would you! A Celtic Mongol is a sight To make you lose your sleep at night! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! There's Mongols marching day and night Right at you! They're spoiling for a good old fight! It is true! They're marching out with flags unfurled Today your Kingdom, TOMORROW THE WORLD! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! Duncan is a canny Scot It is true! No one knows what he has got Even you! He uses knives with speed and skill't His "heavy" weapon's beneath his kilt! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! Aleta is a fair young maid It is true! Of her you ought to be afraid I tell you true! Little and pretty and cute and clean And evil and vicious and bad and mean! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! The Mongols are a funny race It is true! They think the Kingdom's a disgrace It is true! If you think they're speaking treason, Not -yet-, m'boy, it's out of season! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! The Mongols are a funny race, It is true! They always will be in your face It is true! Try to run them out of town; They'll burn yer goddam castle down! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! Their ladies tend to carry So they do! Daughters, girlfriends, even wives So they do! Leave 'em alone, you silly fool Or they will take your family jewels Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! The Mongols in your Barony Enjoy the view! There's more of them than you can see It is true! They're not looking to burn you down All they want is "lebensraum! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! The Spider Clan is in your town It is true! There's ninjas lurking all around Listening to you! Every time you make a plan The Dark Horde has it "in the can!" Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! The Warlord doesn't say too much (thought you knew!) Just sits and drinks a lot of his Tullimore Dew! They say that he's unscrupulous Vicious, mean and venomous! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! The Gur-Khan is a crazy fool Thought you knew! He never went to Sunday School It is true! When you meet him on the field You takes your choice: you die or yield! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! The Mongols are an awful group It is true! They're dropping poison in the soup Just for you! They burn, then rape by firelight Their table manners are a fright Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! Everybody likes Ardjukk, So do you! You won't give him a second look It is true! You would be Afraid-of-His-Cats If you had kitties just like that! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! Tamara doesn't say a lot To me or you! She is great in a Mongol Plot So she do! Don't sneak up on her because She sure don't live in the Land of Oz! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! There's Mongols underneath your bed It is true! Writing down the things you said It is true! We heard you gasp & moan & howl; (We know all about the owl!) Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! There's Mongols on the Royal Court It is true! They've given us a full report About you! The Crown's uneasy on your head We've even wired the Royal Bed Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! The Spider Clan, somewhere out there Is out there too! Riding thru the desert air, So they do! Their weapons glitter in the sun: Swords and knives...and Tommy Guns! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! The Mongols have a lot of songs Too, too true! They will sing them all night long About you! If they don't run out of breath They will sing you half to death Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! This song can go on and on It is true! And on and on and on and on So it do! And on and on and on and on And on and on and on and on! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! Petruccio is an Italian flirt It is true! Chasing after every skirt So he do! If he gets you all alone Just holler for Ronna and throw him a bone! Tomorrow belongs to me, not you! The Mongols think the Horde is great So they do! They've learned how to communicate It is true! They're all linguists, don't you see They speak "Treason"....fluently! Tomorrow belongs to me, NOT YOU!
I'M A MONGOL DOODLE DANDY! (c) copyright 1990 W.J,.Bethancourt III (Tune: "Yankee Doodle Dandy") I'm a Mongol doodle dandy, A vicious and disgusting kinda guy! A real Swordbrother to my Uncle Yang Born at the first Kurultai! I have a little Celtic sweetheart She's my Mongol pride and joy! Oh, Ghengis Khan he went to Europe Just to have a party! I am a happy Mongol boy! I'm a Mongol doodle dandy, Riding the Gobi wild and free! Grass never grows again where my horse treads, I'm free from the Kingdom's tyranny! I loot and burn for entertainment, And laugh at the Kingdom's hoi polloi! Oh, Ghengis Khan he went to Europe Just to have a party! I am a happy Mongol boy!
MY LOVE, MY LOVE: YOU BROKE MY HEART -William Shirley -Joe Bethancourt copyright 1971, 1989 W.J.Bethancourt III Am B7 Am G Am E7 Am My love, my love, you broke my heart; I'm off to join the Wars Am B7 Am G Am E7 Am A I'm off to free the Holy Land from Saracens and Moors. D A D D6 E7 And if you ever loved me dear, prepare my plot and stone Am B7 Am G Am E7 A Turn loose my hawks and hunting hounds: I'll not be riding home. Prepare the funeral hatchment around my blazon bright Go tell the Priest to sing the Mass; make restful my Soul's night And if you ever loved me dear, prepare my plot and stone Turn loose my hawks and hunting hounds: I'll not be riding home. I cannot live with broken heart; the wound you gave will kill. And Death's cold hand is on my Soul, I feel his awful chill. My Destiny lies on the Field, in months, or days, or years.... And if you never loved me dear, shed not your lying tears.
NUDE (c) copyright 1982 W.J.Bethancourt III and Ed Hirt (Tune: "Men of Harlech") Ed and I wrote this one quite a while back, while sitting around looking for trouble. It's one of those that has appeared in quite a few SCA and fannish songbooks. G What's the use of wearing panties C Am7 D7 Whalebone corsets of your Auntie's G Em G C Boxer shorts and other scanties G D7 G Best of all is nude G There's such fun in going bra-less C Am7 D7 Now that it's no longer lawless G Em G C 'Specially if your figure's flawless G D7 G Best of all is nude D Nude is what you're born in G Shirts are never torn in G Underwear and lacy flimsies, garter belts and other whimsies G D Yards of itchy cloth to put your form in C Bm C Em Ducks all do it, maidens rue it Am7 D7 Even ancient Picts in Britain blue it G Em G C Going naked's how to do it G D7 G Best of all is nude! If your garters aren't elastic Tie them up in knots fantastic (Panty hose is something drastic!) Best of all is nude! If you're tired of wearing clotheses Shed your garment 'mongst the roses Never mind the old bluenoses Best of all is nude! Nude is best for ducking! Worst for horses bucking! Moonlit nights will see such sights That are very best for fooling round .....and elbows! Nudity is grand to see A well-known antidote to virginity Take your clothes off and you'll see: Best of all is nude!
O-L-A-F! (tune: "L-O-L-A") Met him on the shore at Lindesfarne He burn down the monastery just to keep himself warm That Olaf! O-L-A-F, Olaf! (&c) Caught him with a gerbil in a satin dress Doing things that I won't confess, That Olaf! (&c) Olaf spent the night with the Seneshale, Woke up in the morning looking "slightly mauled!" That Olaf! (&c)
OLD RED CAT (with Theo Caraccino) (c) copyright 1983 W.J. Bethancourt III This one should explain itself. C G7 Had an old red cat, who loved to dance C G7 She'd probably sing if I'da given her half a chance C F Sittin' round the house singin' songs all day G7 C That old red cat and me. C F And I ain't ashamed to say I loved G7 C That old red cat. Had an old grey hound, who loved to howl All the neighborhood would shiver and shake When she was on the prowl. Sittin' round the house singin' songs all day That old grey hound and me. And I ain't ashamed to say I loved That old grey hound. Got this old guitar, that pays the rent Feeds my family, and I think it's Heaven-sent Sittin' round the house singin' songs all day The cat and the hound and me. And I ain't ashamed to say I love This old guitar. Got a red-headed wife that brings me joy Keeps me walkin' the straight and narrow With a coupla little boys Sittin' round the house chasin' kids all day That ol' red-head and me And I ain't ashamed to say I love That old Red Kat! So it's plain to see my needs are few But most of all I love To sing these songs to you Sittin' round the house singin' songs all day The Kat and the kids and me. And I ain't ashamed to say I love My old Red Kat!
ONCE UPON A TIME (c) copyright 1992 W. J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "Dublin In The Rare Old Times") We created a Dream, with the SCA, and I helped to create a Kingdom within that Dream, called Atenveldt. That's what this one is all about. I wish it could come back. G Em C Raised on song and story, heroes could be found G C G Am7 D In the joyous tales of glory; Chivalry's renown G C G C The revel halls and list fields, the minstrel's haunting rhymes G C D G And I was loved by someone; once upon a time. G C G Em C CHORUS: Ring a ring a rosy, as the light declines G C G D G I still remember someone, once upon a time Once upon a time there was a Kingdom far away That sang a song of chivalry, in a happy yesterday Miles of rolling country, from the mountains to the sea A Kingdom carved from nothing; a Dream that came to be Our children played together beneath the skies of blue And we loved, and fought, each other, like families often do With Honour as our watchword, to find the Holy Grail Caught up into a different time, in a living fairy-tale CHORUS Oh the years have made me bitter, tho time has dimmed the pain And everything keeps changin', nothin' stays the same, The children go their own way now; they all are fairly grown, And my old friends have all gone away, and I sit all alone The Outlands and Meridies; Ansteorra's windy plains The East and Middle ...Atenveldt...the misty Western rain; My mind's filled full of memories, I turn to hear their chimes, And I still remember someone, once upon a time.... CHORUS CHORUS II: Ring a ring a rosy, as the light declines These -are- the days of Glory! These -are- the Good Old Times!
THE OTHER IRISH ROVER (c) copyright 1991 W.J. Bethancourt III All rights reserved In the year Common Era Twenty-three Sixty-five We took off from the Mos Eisley Port And we were runnin' away, almost more dead than alive, From a brawl of the intimate sort! We'd an elegant craft, it had fins fore and aft And oh, how the Stardrive drove her She had wenches galore, and they shouted for more! And they called her the Irish Rover. Chorus: Fare thee well, my pretty little girl, I must sail away Fare thee well, my pretty little girl, I must sail away. There was Freddie McSweet from old Moff Tarkin's fleet There was Bltsfg from no one knew where There was Slippery Jim, we kept one eye on him! And an alien who didn't breathe air! A Green Man from Barsoom, and a Fremen from Dune, And a Klingon that was hung over! And your man, Mick McCann, who is half Zacathan, Was the Captain on the Irish Rover! There was old Doctor Who with a Dalek or two A Kzinti who'd lost the cat-box; There was Alice the Goon, and a Thing from the Moon, And a Wookie that didn't wear socks! One of Podarge's pets, she was named Juliet, And she -grinned- as she looked us over... A Flying Monkey from Oz, and an android named Roz Was the crew of the Irish Rover! We had one million pots of Zelaznyan plots (We) had two million escapes that were close! We had three million bales of old Bob Heinlein's tales, We had four million barrels of 'Ose! //MORE OSE!// We had five million drunks and six million punks (Does anyone remember Smokey Stover?) We had eight million steals from old Flash Gordon reels In the hold of the Irish Rover! We had just entered warp and when we tried to break out Well, the ship lost her way in the fog And the whole of the crew was reduced down to two 'Twas myself and the captain's old dog //BIG dog!// Then the ship struck a rock! Oh, Lord, what a shock! I barfed all over Rover! Turned nine times around and the dog was never found! I'm the last of the Irish Rover.
PLANXTY SEAMUS (c) copyright 1991 W.J.Bethancourt III (Tune: "Wearin' O'the Green") Yet another "tired of St. Patrick's Day" song......Gawd! Funny part is that the Yuppies in the club didn't notice any difference in the words, and the -real- Irish (and Scots) were dying with laughter. C G7 O Seamus, dear, and did you hear of last night at the pub? F C G7 C The other day, the hoolie at the place they call "The Dub" C G7 The wanna-bees they all were out, the floor could not be seen F C G7 C For all the yuppies they were there, a-wearin' of the green! F C A-wearin' of the green! A-wearin' of the green! F C G7 C For all the yuppies they were there, a-wearin' of the green! The band is singin' good and strong, but it is so absurd The crowd it is so bloody loud, the band cannot be heard! There ain't an Irishman in sight, for sure they can't be seen For all the yuppies they are here, a-wearin' of the green! A-wearin' of the green! A-wearin' of the green! For all the yuppies they are here, a-wearin' of the green! We got to sing ol' "Danny Boy" 'bout fifty times today And we'll have to sing it fifty more before we get away! The yuppies think they're Irish, they're greener than the grass, But they can take their "Toora-loo" and shove it up their...*.... And shove it up their...*..., And shove it up their...*.... But they can take their "toora-loo" and shove it up their ...*... We got to sing "The Unicorn" and "Macnamara's Band" And fifty other stupid songs that we can hardly stand! I'd like to shoot the jukebox, that bloody loud machine And then we'll shoot the yuppies that are wearin' o'the green! A-wearin' of the green! A-wearin' of the green! And then we'll shoot the yuppies that are wearin' o'the green! note: the "...*..." in verse three denotes thumping the guitar or bodhran once.
PUTTIN' ON THE STYLE (c) copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III All Rights Reserved CHORUS: Puttin' on the agony, puttin' on the style That is what the SCA is doin' all the while And as I look around me, I really have to smile To see so many people puttin' on the style! See the brand new Laurel, struttin' round the hall In his fancy costume, he has a lot of gall! We know he only made it, the ladies to beguile And we know he's only puttin' on the style! Sweet sixteen and dresses up just to meet some boys Chain mail bras and bunny fur are her favorite toys We all know she's jailbait, and will be for a while But we really love to watch her puttin' on the style! There's a pompous Pelican, thinks that she is God Next thing that you know she'll be sittin' on the BoD! I wot that she reminds me of a -hungry crocodile- But we know she's only puttin' on the style! See the fancy Duchess in her golden jeweled hat Wearin' 'Lizabethians just to hide her...ah...corpulence. Standing there in Court with a predatory smile But we know she's only puttin' on the style! See the macho fighter, in armor he's arrayed He thinks bashing's better than even gettin' laid! He's never in his lady's bed, he won't be for a while I'm afraid he got a crotch-shot: he ain't got -any- style! His Majesty is wonderful, His Majesty is grand Thinks he holds the Kingdom in the hollow of his hand He struts around a little bit, then poses for a while But we know he's only puttin' on the style!
SECOND STAR TO THE RIGHT (c) copyright 1993 W.J. Bethancourt III G C G I remember as a child, when I first heard the story G Am7 D Of Wendy and Peter, and Neverland dreams C G Em Of an island in the ocean with pirates and Indians G Em D G With mermaids and magic, and Captain Hook's schemes Now I'm all grown up, and I dream a bit different I dream of a starship out seeking the stars Of strange desert islands that now I call planets That dance in their orbits 'round strange suns afar C G CHORUS: Second star to the right, then straight on 'til morning Em Am7 D Those words have always meant magic to me C G Em Second star to the right, then straight on 'til morning G D G Who knows what we'll find there; who knows what we'll see! Now Peter's grown up, and he pilots a starship And his dreams are still magic, his dreams are still true: It's ain't just a dream; it's -real- and it's waitin'! It's waitin' for me, and it's waitin' for you! There's adventures, and dangers, and worlds for the takin' New ways of livin', and new things to find It ain't gonna be easy, ain't gonna be simple It's the new Spanish Main, out where the stars shine! There's pirates and magic, and cowboys and Indians And mermaids and Faerie, we'll have us a ball! I hear Peter a-knockin' at my bedroom window! Come Wendy, come Michael, come John, and come all!
SIMPLY HUMAN (c) copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III G D7 Don't cross the river on that log, you might fall off and drown G G7 You ain't no frog or even fish, where ever are you bound? C G Em There's nothin' new that's over on the other river bank G C G D7 G Why don't you stay with us right here? You're nothin' but a crank! Em Bm But he paddled over on the log, then found a better way G C G D7 G And built a boat, and fed his tribe from the deer he found that day C G CHORUS 'Cause he was human, simply human, D7 G And he believed it really could be done! C G 'Cause he was human, simply human, G D7 G And he believed it really could be done! Hey Christopher Columbus! You know the world is flat You're gonna sail right off the edge, and that'll just be that There's monsters in the ocean; you shouldn't even try To sail your ship so far from land, you know you're gonna die! But he sailed from Spain, true to his course, and found a brand new land And the Old World met the New World, and freedom took it's stand! Go back to making bicycles! They told the Brothers Wright If man was made to fly then we'd have wings to do it right! And -rockets, Mr. Congreve?- you poor deluded fool! And the atom simply can't be split: it's a universal rule! But they built the airplane anyway, it flew with style and grace And they built an atom smasher, and rocketships to space So now we hear the same old thing, the same old sorry tale: We can't go flying out in space, we're surely bound to fail. There's nothing out there anyway, why should we even try? It's dangerous! It's frightening! And we're all gonna die! There might be MONSTERS way out there; they cry in their dismay. Well thank you very much, my friend....I'm going anyway! CHORUS Because I'm human, simply human, And I believe it really can be done! Because I'm human, simply human, And I believe it really can be done! Because I'm human, simply human, And I wanna see what's sittin' over on the other side! Because I'm human, simply human, Don't tell me that it can't be done if it hasn't yet been tried!
THE SAD TALE OF HARRY POLLITT, PARLIAMENTARIAN (Tune: "Harry Pollitt") Harry Pollitt lived in Atenveldt, A Parliamentarian lad; He was most foully murdered By those naughty Royalist cads! Those naughty Royalist cads! Those bullying Royalist cads! He was most foully murdered By those naughty Royalist cads! Ol' Harry went to Heaven, Got to the Gates with ease, Says: "May I speak with Citizen God? I'm Harry Pollitt, please!" Harry Pollitt, please (&c) St. Peter says to Harry "Are you humble and contrite?" "Well, I slap around Royalist Ladies!" "Well...OK! That's quite all right!" Ok, that's quite all right Yer a Roundhead pure and bright! Yer a BRAVE MAN to slap Ladies So, OK, that's quite all right! Well they put him in the choir, But he was too close to God; So he griped about the angels, And wrote letters to the BoD. Letters to the BoD Outraged letters to the BoD He griped about the angels, And wrote letters to the BoD One day when God was walkin' The verdict, it was GUILTY Round Heaven to meditate, Harry said "Oh, well!" Who should he see but Harry So he tucked his nightie round his knees Chalkin' slogans on the Gate! And he drifted down to Hell Slogans on the Gate (&c) Drifted down to Hell (&c.) They brought him up on charges Now seven long years have passed Before the Holy Ghost And Harry's doin' swell! For spreadin' Roundhead thinkin' He's just been made First People's Amongst the Heavenly Host! Commissar of Parliament Hell! Amongst the Heavenly Host (&c) Commissar of Parliament Hell (Just a mile from Ysgithr!) He's just been made First People's Commissar of Parliament Hell! So the moral of my story Is easy for to tell If you think this is a Democracy, You better go to Hell!
SONG OF IVANOF -(c) copyright 1974, 1990 W.J.Bethancourt III There is a man who we know well that does the best he can but he's displayed in armour made of reticulated garbage cans! He looks so fine and fair and strong, oh how he plays the man and how it's prized, those galvanized, reticulated garbage cans The noblest Roman of them all, a good Praetorian a combatant who wears no pants, just reticulated garbage cans! Like old Horatius at the Bridge, like the Legions of Valerian (O dearie me: those LOVELY knees!) and those reticulated garbage cans!
THE SONGKILLERS -Joe Bethancourt -Kihe Blackeagle Now the Chairdevil got to talkin' and he swore, as demons do, That he'd take away the music From folks like me, and you 'Cause the music makes us happy And that made the Devil roar! So he 'lowed he'd kill the music Of the hungry and the poor The demon-hands rode roughly O'er the moaning strings and board And devil-breath destroyed the case And Hell's own fire the wood! CHORUS: And the devils went down to Earth, old son, To tear the music out And it took blood, and sweat and tears To put *that* fire out! No fiddle could escape him Nor gleaming banjo chord They tried to kill the music With fire and with sword But the music of the people Is the music of the land And ain't no devil ever spawned Can stay the people's hand! Fire on the Mountain! Run, boy, run! Devils' in the House of the Risin' Sun! Listen to the banjo, listen to the song! Play the music, all night long!
So they hunted for the music And they re-lived all the songs And the road was hard and weary But they put right to a wrong! So listen up, you people Ol' Nick ain't got no chance! 'Cause when you hear -this- banjo play You can't help but grin and dance! The Devil don't like banjos much 'Cause he likes to see you sad, And Old Scratch is itchin', down in Hell, And ain't that just too bad!
SONG OF THE THREE (c) copyright 1981 W. J. Bethancourt III and C. A. Bethancourt (Tune: the song of the Cowardly Lion, Tin Woodsman and Scarecrow) (Enter the Scarecrow, who singeth:) C Am C Am My wife is always nagging; my Prowess it is lagging G7 I can't do anything F G7 She has got a reason, but revenge is out of season C D7 G Oh I wish I could be King! If I just had the Crown on, I'd always have a frown on And the Barons on a string Heads they would be rolling, the Board would be cajoling Oh if only I was King! I am very fed up with the way this group is set up Oh I'd change everything! They are so high and mighty with the way that they do fight-ey Oh, someday I'll be King! Tho my wife is melancholic, and very...vitriolic She's a wasp without a sting! I'd have to supervise her with a pack of tranquilizers If I only was a King...... (the Tin Woodsman joineth him, and singeth:) I grew up kind of cocky, and rather big, and stocky And straight as any rod On the field I'm a battallion, with the Ladies I'm a stallion ...Oh they'd better make me God! The other boys are jealous they say I'm over-zealous They'd do better to applaud The things that I am giving to this Dream that we are living Oh I wish they'd make me God! They say that I'm conceited, but I'm just badly treated By people and by BoD Just think of what they're missing by My Majesty dismissing Oh they'd better make me God! (the Cowardly Lion creepeth forth, and singeth:) Oh I could be a fighter, a great and mighty smiter And be the perfect knight It's a great and nasty shame, and everyone's to blame Oh I wish that I could fight! I could be a Cavalier drinking wine and ale and beer And be a gorgeous sight But it would cost me too much money so it isn't very funny Oh I wish that I could fight! Let me at 'em on the field, I would surely make them yield To my Power and my Might With rattan, shinai and rapier they would nevermore escape here If they'd only let me fight! (all doeth the Softe Shoe off, stage left)
STRANGEST DREAM copyright 1984 W. J. Bethancourt III Last night I had the strangest dream in this bleak century I dreamed that people the world around believed in Chivalry I dreamed I saw a Kingly Crown enshrined in laurel leaves with Grace and Joy and Purity attendant at his feet I dreamed I saw the perfect Knight receive his accolade and minstrels sang and children laughed in some soft forest glade I dreamed I saw the finest thing that ever man could make grow great and strong and undefiled: Pray God I never wake! Last night I had the strangest dream in this bleak century I dreamed that people the world around believed in Chivalry
STRANGEST DREAM (OF ALL) (c) copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III (tho Ghod knows why!) This is what happens when you parody your own stuff...... Last night you had the strangest dream The strangest dream of all You dreamed about a chicken that Was thirty-six feet tall It wrestled over Tokyo With Godzilla and the rest And in three falls, with overtime, It proved it was the best It then put on silk stockings And a leather garter belt And did impossible sexual things; You told me how it felt. Last night you had the strangest dream It made me quite annoyed; Don't tell me again what you dreamed last night For I've been reading Freud!
THE STREETS OF ANN ARBOR (c) 1974, 1990 W. J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "Streets of Laredo") As I walked out thru the streets of Ann Arbor as I walked out thru Ann Arbor one day I spied a young Mongol all dressed in white linen all dressed in white linen and cold as the clay I then spied another, done in on the sidewalk along with just about six dozen more their wounds were all gaping, from mace and from broadsword from claymore and cannon, all dripping with gore what caused this grave carnage, I cried to the Monglos oh pray what's the reason for this awful sight my answer came slowly from under the corpse-pile "It seems that our bark is much worse than our bite....." the answer continued from pale lips a-shaking we sang all our songs and believed them as true the Dark Horde could never be beaten in battle we thought this was what all good Mongols could do... we went down to Atenveldt all for to plunder "too large to defend" was our song every night but Atenveldt's different from East, West or Middle there, even the bushes have learned how to bite! the Clann stole our ponies, the Scraelings our foodstuffs we ran into axes in AtenViking hands our maidens ran off with one Richard of Arkham and we're all that's left to return to our lands MacChluarains and Monsters, Lockehaven and Foxmoor that Kingdom is BIG and its' fighters are MEAN! we fought and we lost, and fled back to Ann Arbor we all came back home with results that you've seen keep away from that Land with its' cactus and marshes it's no place for Mongols who are bent on War they count their blows well, but they strike them yet better he crawled into his Yurt, and fell, dead, on the floor.....
TALKING BANNED FROM ARGO (c) copyright 1993 W.J. Bethancourt III If you want to get in trouble, I'll tell ya how to do it Write a song about Argo, THEN yer into it Ya sing it at parties, ya sing it at Cons Before ya know it, the thing's -caught on-! (BIG hit....Trekkies....Spock ears....Bejorn false noses....) (sounds pretty Fishy to me.....) The thing of it is, it was all a joke All about those enterprising blokes T'was done "on contract," nice and formal, To make 'em all seem good and -normal.- (Nice boys and girls....typical party-goers.... Macho and Machisma Space Pioneers....ri-i-i-i-ght!) See, the Captain's an egotistical sod That thinks he's some kind of little tin god A self-centered, egocentrical pup Without high-tech he can't get it up! (He don't love women....just his ship....masturbates on the bridge when he's alone....) The Doctor's something very strange He's weird and unusual; quite deranged.... Came back on board with a great big sack.... He's a certified necrophiliac...... (She's DEAD, Jim....heheheheheheh!) The First Officer's calm, and very neat And in stuff like this, he's quite discreet.... He never laughs, never cries a tear, And comes in heat once every few years....... (and rapes computers....has affairs with calculators.... keeps a battery-powered Nurse doll in his closet...) I ain't gonna talk about the rest of the crew Or the strange and unusual things they do But the word about 'em, from Argo to Dover, is "Watch your wallet, and DON'T bend over!" (wanna buy a duck? How about a trained cormorant?) So every time ya wanna sing They just wanna hear the same damn thing: "Banned From Argo," fifty times a night! Ya hear it in bed, when ya turn out the light.... (Wanna make love? No! Play me "Banned From Argo!" ARRGGGH!) So "Argo," I guess, is a pretty good song But the damn thing just keeps going, on and on! Sequels and spin-offs, a New Generation Now "Deep Space Nine's" due for incineration....... (Honest, Sir, I didn't know it was Odo sleeping in the blender!)
THAT GREAT BIG WAY-OUT-THERE (c) copyright 1993 W.J. Bethancourt III This one should be sung like Bob Wills would have done it. C G7 Now a cowboy's life meant freedom, ridin' in the prairie air C We could ride away into the sunset; never have a care F C And we'd gather 'round the campfires, that looked like burnin' stars C G C And wonder if somebody else was lookin' back at ours. Then they put up barbed wire fences, and the railroads came on thru And the motor cars and freeways went and split the range in two.... Now a cowboy's just a stage-prop, ridin' in a rodeo And the city lights blot out the stars, and there ain't no place to go. But there's still a last frontier for us to challenge, if we dare We could whisper secrets to the stars, comb a comet's silver hair! So I'll go out where the open range is farther than the eye can see Where there ain't no barbed wire fences, and there's room for livin' free! F C And I'll ride from star to star upon a pony made of steel G C C7 Where a man depends on what he's got, and the livin's really real; F C You can keep your earth-bound cities with their concrete everywhere! G F G C Oh the spaces are wide open in that great big Way-Out-There! Then I'll look back at the covered wagons drivin' out to space The settlers and the gamblers and the whole dern human race! I'll keep an eye for Indians; maybe this time we'll be friends... There's room enough for everyone; -this- frontier never ends! Now you won't find me sittin' in the honky-tonks and bars, The High-and-Lonesome's where I'll be, a-singin' to the stars In a starship made of silver-steel I'll ride the open space And walk where no one's gone before, and meet God face to face! And I'll ride from star to star upon a pony made of steel Where a man depends on what he's got, and the livin's really real; You can keep your earth-bound cities with their concrete everywhere! Oh the spaces are wide open in that great big Way-Out-There! Oh the Final Frontier's where I'm bound, that great big Way-Out-There!
THERE'S A HOLE IN THE STAR DRIVE (c) copyright 1993 W. J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "There's A Hole In The Bucket" Trad.) There's a hole in the star drive, dear Liza, dear Liza There's a hole in the star drive, dear Liza, a hole.... So fix it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry So fix it, dear Henry, dear Henry, fix it! With what shall I fix it, dear....etc. With the welder, dear Henry....etc. But I can't find the nozzle, dear Liza... Get another, dear Henry.... Where shall I get it, dear Liza.... At the Spaceport, dear Henry.... How shall I get there, dear Liza.... With the star drive, dear Henry..... But....there's a hole in the star drive, dear Liza....
THEY'RE COMING TO TAKE ME AWAY Remember when you asked my help And I got down upon my knees and begged you Not to make me Autocrat because I'd go berserk? WELL, Then you made me Autocrat of Estrella War and Then the days got worse and worse The phone is ringing all the time And now you see I've gone completely out of my mind, AND [chorus 1]: They're coming to take me away, Ha ha, they're coming to take me away, Ho ho, hee hee, ha ha, To the funny farm Where Life is Beautiful all the time And I'll be happy to see Those Nice Young Men In their Clean White Coats And they're coming to take me AWAY, HA HAAAAA You thought it was a joke, and so you LAUGHED, YOU LAUGHED, I saw you laugh When I had said that running the War Would make me flip my lid, RIGHT? You know you laughed. I HEARD you laugh, you laughed And laughed and laughed And then you left, And now you see I'm Utterly Mad AND [chorus 2]: They're coming to take me away, Ha ha, they're coming to take me away, Ho ho, hee hee, ha ha, To the Happy Home with Trees and Flowers And Chirping Birds and basket weavers Who sit and smile and Twiddle their thumbs and toes Without a single clue AND they're coming to Take me Away, HAHAAAAAAAAA I dealt with doofy Duchesses And merchant goobs and goobers and spodes and jerks without a clue And parking spaces for them all And camping sites And every single King and Queen and Count and Countess everywhere who think they're God and own the place and slap your face and slander your name and think that that's the way to pay the autocrat back for making the bloody thing work RIGHT? Well, you just wait, They'll get you yet, And then I'll laugh, oh yes, I'll laugh And when they do, they'll put you in MY job, and YOU can be the Autocrat Of Estrella War and go out of your tiny mind! AND (chorus 1) (chorus 2)
WEAPONS AT THE DOOR (c) 1974 W. J. Bethancourt III Being a Polemic concerning the alleged Custom of the West Kingdom concerning checking your Weapons at the Door of the Revel Hall. As the Satire is the Weapon of the Bard, this said Polemic is to be checked at the Door, along with swords, knives, redheaded Ladies and other such Deadly Things..... As I roved out to Western Lands to take the Western Air I went into a Revel Hall and I saw a Twelfth Night there but I was halted at the gate by a Privy Consellor (that's the man who tells the King of the West how to go to the bath room!) who told me I would have to check my Weapons at the door As I, in my astonishment, stood hung on tenter-pegs a Knight came in whose Prouess hung down between his legs the Doorman grabbed a greatsword and he struck the Knight full sore and gave him a reciept; he left his weapon at the door! a Bard was next whose goodly Voice has entertained us all but he, too, was prevented from entering the Hall and told he could not carry deadly weapons on the floor he left his Voice and Harp among the weapons at the door a Master entered graciously, a man we all know well who holds a 3rd Dan Black Belt, tho this he'd never tell the Master struggled valiantly, the Master cursed and swore but he left his hands, and feet, as weapons at the door the company was jovial, altho a bit dismayed for lack of proper cutlery, down to the smallest blade for even teeth and fingernails, each can be used in War were cut, and pulled, and left behind, as weapons at the door! And has their King not loyal Knights that He must be afraid of brawling in his Hall and of Assassin's bloody blade? the Rights of Men to carry Arms at least WE'VE not foreswore and a POX on them that made the Rule of Weapons at the Door!
WE'RE ALL NAKED UNDERNEATH OUR CLOTHES (c) copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III
THE WEST SCOTTISH TOWN OF EL PASO (c) Copyright 1992 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "El Paso") The leader of "Celtic Pride," Tom Teven, is a Scot with a great love for Marty Robbins songs. He'd sing "El Paso" with no provocation whatsoever. I wrote this one, and dared him to sing it......he said some unprintable Scottish things at me, involving some rather improbable acts with haggis and underage bagpipes, and glowered from behind his beard for days. G Am7 Out in the West Scottish town of old Glascow D G I fell in love with a Mexican girl G Am7 Nighttime would find me in Flora's Cantina D G The whiskey would flow and Maria would whirl I'd drink at the bar every night about sunset Watching Maria do disco alone My blood pressure rising; I can't close my eyelids And her name was Maria Conchita Evita Estrella Elena MacTavish Malone The piper would play her the Mexican Hat Dance The Black Watch would line up and drool on the floor Maria would dance with a cork and two band-aids At the end of the evening, I'd crawl out the door C One night a wild young crofter came in G Reeking of sheep in the night G He looked at Maria and started in howling G C Chewing the carpet, a terrible sight! D But Maria Ignored him and kept on with aerobic motions Doing things no other human could do Dancing on tables and shaking her talents The crofter was standing there thinking of ewes The Black Watch had all fainted dead as they stood there Her ankles were tucked neatly under each ear She sucked up a shilling from off of the bar-top The crofter just blew off the foam from his beer Next set Maria dressed up differently Wearing a cute woolly tail Dressed in sheep's clothing she wiggled and jiggled The crofter went berserk and let out a wail! But Maria Ignored him and danced for the five mounted cowboys Who didn't like sheep, and they said so, a lot I ducked under a table just as the fight started The crofter was giving as good as he got! The constable came in, he said "What's all this then?" And looked at the cowboys out cold on the floor The crofter had grabbed up Maria and run off And sheepishly carried her out of the door No one quite knows what became of them then I ran out the back, all alone I'll never go back to that Glascow cantina And her name was Maria Conchita Evita Estrella Elena MacTavish ...... Malone!
"WILD ROVER" NO MORE! (c)copyright 1991 W.J.Bethancourt III (Tune: "Wild Rover" Trad. Irish) I think Tom Teven of "Celtic Pride" is -still- singing this one every chance he gets! C F I've played Irish music for many a year C G7 C I've hung out in the pubs drinkin' whiskey and beer C F If you ask for that song I'll throw you out the door G7 C For I -never- will play "The Wild Rover" no more! G7 CHORUS: And it's NO! NAY! NEVER! /// Right Up Your Kilt! /// C F No nay never no more! C F Will I play "The Wild Rover" G7 C No never, no more! I went to my agent and asked him to repent And I told the old bastard my patience was spent And I won't sing "The Unicorn," its such a bore And I -never- will play "The Wild Rover" no more! My poor aged parents they constantly sob: "Get out of the bar-rooms and get a real job!" The tip-jar is empty; I'm tired and sore And I -never- will play "The Wild Rover" no more! I'll go back to Cleveland, repent what I've sung And get me a "real job" while I am still young 'Cause they don't pay for diddley, that's why I'm still poor And I -never- will play "The Wild Rover" no more!
WE DID IT TO OURSELVES (c) copyright 1995 W.J. Bethancourt III Not funny. Not funny at all.........and those who do not learn from history are condemned to repeat it. Am They came for us one afternoon and took away our guns E7 They said we didn't need 'em to defend our wives and sons Am They smiled and laughed and left us; we watched them drive away E7 Am But it would make life safer .... at least that's what folks say G Am CHORUS: And the jackboots all were polished G Am And the uniforms were neat G Am They all were so polite that day E7 They smiled so bright and sweet Am G They looked just like the boy next door F E7 They did it all so well Am They looked a lot like you and me E7 Am We did it to ourselves. The next thing that they came for was to take away our books They took 'em out and burned 'em without a second look For reading was seditious, it taught us to do wrong Pornography and treason, and evil wicked songs. They rounded up the Jews one day, the liberals were next. They locked up all the loonies of the weird religious sects It never made the papers, t'was a thing they had to hide And then they closed the borders, to lock us all inside. CHORUS Don't criticize the President, he does the best he can Don't criticize the Governor, the cop or Congressman For if you do you're spreading hate; get up against the wall! And if you're smart you simply just won't say a thing at all Don't believe in that religion, it doesn't fit The Plan The Government knows best for you, each woman and each man Uncle Sam's become Big Brother, he's watching every day They said that it can't happen here: it happened anyway! CHORUS The newspapers got smaller and the taxes got real high The talk-show hosts all disappeared, the tv news went dry They took away our modems, they monitored our phones They took our kids to school one day, and didn't bring 'em home. They took away our freedoms in the name of peace and love They gave us our security held in an iron glove When was the last election? I cannot tell you, son .... Ask the ones that let it happen ... when they took away our guns!
BELLA DONA (c) copyright 1993 W.J. Bethancourt III Lady, the wind blowing cold from the mountains That covers the branches with ice Can't put out the hot fire that burns in my bosom Your eyes promise me Paradise I am a poor man, some say I'm half-crazy Son of the stones of the Earth I live for your smile and I yearn for your kisses Tell me, what is my love for you worth? Lady, I cannot provide you with presents Silver and gold I have none No castle in Spain and no fine blooded horses No rich golden fields 'neath the Sun I am a poor man, some say I'm half-crazy Son of the wind and the rain But all that I have, to you I give freely The laughter and joy, and the pain. Lady, I am not a hero of battles To rescue and steal you away I have no pavilions with soldiers and armies To marshal at breaking of day I am a poor man, some say I'm half-crazy Son of the mists of the Sea Come to me softly, oh, come to me gently, Come to me warm, wild, and free Lady, I sit and I watch you for hours I watch every move that you make I see how the sunlight sits softly upon you In moonlight you make my heart break I am a poor man, some say I'm half-crazy Son of the sand and the stone Lady, smile on me and tell me you love me I'm tired of being alone I am a poor man, some say I'm half-crazy Son of the sword and the knife Lady, I pledge you my sword and my honour My heart and my pride and my life
THE LADIES IN THE SCA (c) copyright 1993 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "Female Of The Species") Now the deadly widow spider eats the mate that doesn't flee As does the preying mantis if she's courted carelessly Don't be fooled by fragile beauty, for thereby hangs my tale: That the ladies in the SCA are deadly as the male! Now, you'll see a lovely lady with a cord of black and red Court her gingerly and carefully, or else you'll wind up dead! Don't muck about with Mongols, you're better off in jail! For the ladies in the SCA are deadly as the male! Now those frail and frivolous ladies that are with the Cavaliers Don't be fooled by mere appearance, all is not as it appears For they carry bodice-daggers in those frills and farthingales! For the ladies in the SCA are deadly as the male! In the desert lands of Aten, over all the country-side Grows a lovely desert flower, worn with fighting female pride It's the oleander blossom, white as snow and deathly pale! For the ladies in the SCA are deadly as the male! See that sweet and fragile lady, see that lissome little miss Treads the dance with grace and beauty, drops a curtsey, trades a kiss... And she also puts on armor, lays about with shield and flail! For the ladies in the SCA are deadly as the male! There are sharp and shining sabres, there are Viking axes bright, There are bodice-knives and hatpins, there is poison in the night But their tongue's their sharpest weapon, over that you can't prevail For the ladies in the SCA are deadly as the male!
SONG OF THE MEN'S SIDE(BOARD) (c) copyright 1994 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "Song Of The Men's Side") Once we feared the feast, when they served it up we ran Ran very fast for we knew Who cooked the feast, for it was not made for Man But what could we simple folk do? The Cook only smiled as she piled fancy styled Things on our trenchers and our plates And the odor of her craft it did waft as she laughed For only -she- knew what we ate! Tell it to the barrows of the dead, run ahead! Shout it to the ones who ate so well Hear the awful sigh, sadly cry, you will die! This is the Feast From Hell! We looked upon the feast and we shuddered as we saw What was on our plate in the night Animalcula, slightly raw, etcetera Reflected in the evening candle light We murmured "Oh my God" at the sodden pickled cod And the Mystery Beast in the stew And though it was late, on our plate, what we ate Wound up very quickly in the 'loo! Room for the technicolor yawn, on the lawn Shout it to the ones who ate so well Hear the awful sigh, sadly cry, you will die! This is the Feast From Hell! The first course done, we ran for the door But the servers dragged us back to the hall. The second course was made from rat and marmalade And we screamed with our backs to the wall! What was called "leg of lamb" was a pile of pickled Spam In some kind of monstrous disguise ...... We could not eat our fill of the swill not until We held our nose and closed our eyes! Tell it to the barrows of the dead, run ahead! Shout it to the ones who ate so well Hear the awful sigh, sadly cry, you will die! This is the Feast From Hell! When the last course came we were tied to our chairs Held at the point of a pike! Something cold and brown, made from hound from the town And in truth it all looked alike! And the barbecued shoe, what to do? It was true! And the smell killed half of the hall! And the sweet meat heat beaten pureed parakeet Was the signal for the paramedic call! Room for the technicolor yawn, on the lawn Shout it to the ones who ate so well Hear the awful sigh, sadly cry, you will die! This is the Feast From Hell!
SERIOUS STEAL (c) copyright 1994 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "Serious Steel" by Leslie Fish) When I first heard Leslie's song, I thought "This song is just crying to be parodied. Then I got the chorus, and the rest just followed along after. Listening to a bunch of drunk SCAdians wobbling past Pennsic Horde Camp at 3 am singing it made my day! Well our girlfriends up and left us cold In the middle of the Pennsic War And left us stranded in the middle of the field And we thought it a crashing bore! We had nothing with us but what we'd brought, Our cars and our camping gear, A box of condoms and some toys And a warm six-pack of beer CHORUS: So grab your pants, find your socks Brush your teeth with a comb If you can't get laid at the Pennsic War You might as well go home! So we went back to our lonely camp And we spent a horny night. Then we all lined up at the showers and We washed in the morning light. We dressed up in our finest clothes Our swords had sheaths at hand And we went off hunting maidenheads A happy, horny band! The very first lady that we found She was a Duchess bold She said she had no maidenhead, But her camp was down the road ..... So we took her back to her jolly old camp Her maidenhead to find She gave her all to help our search From Vespers to Compline! The very next camp that we came to The ladies had gone mad. Their lords had joined Blue Feather And that was all they had. Our armor proved out bullet-proof Our weapons worked as well. Their lords they thanked us long and loud For saving them from Hell. Camp by camp we worked our way Just to see who we could lay. The legends that we left behind Were a Roman holiday! For now the ladies seek us out, For to take their troubles on, And be their bedmates thru the night When'e're their lords are gone! How can we not take up this task To serve our ladies' need? How can we leave them all alone When we hear them beg and plead? We spent our time at the War in bed, We had 'em by threes and fives! And we gotta say this was a War We'd hoped for all our lives! CHORUS: So grab your pants, find your socks Brush your teeth with a comb If you can't get laid at the Pennsic War If your sex life is a crashing bore And all you can find is a two-bit .... (WHAT?!) Well .............. You might as well go home!
THE ESTRELLA WAR SONG (c) copyright 1993 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "Tonight's The Night" (Trad.) Written for Estrella War ..... kinda In Memoriam, I guess. Sing it for Pennsic, too. Just zipper in the needed word(s) in the right places. Comin' in, settin' up the War and feelin' hale and hearty Meetin' friends you've never met before and preparin' for the party CHORUS: And tonight's the night they're at the War When they've had enough to drink they'll drink some more That's what the War is for! Tonight's the night for drinkin'! Saturday and it's anybody's guess in the melee they're delightin' Most of them they take a little rest, then right back to the fightin' CHORUS: And tonight's the night they're at the War When they've had enough to fight they'll fight some more That's what the War is for! Tonight's the night for drinkin'! Merchant's Row, and lookin' all around at all the things they're buyin' It's thirsty work that walkin' up and down and it's barter now they're tryin' CHORUS: And tonight's the night they're at the War When they've had enough to shop they'll shop some more! That's what the War is for! Tonight's the night for drinkin'! Chilly night but the tents are nice and warm and you don't wanna be a rover There they are all singin' down the storm until the rain is over CHORUS: And tonight's the night they're at the War When they've had enough to sing they'll sing some more That's what the War is for! Tonight's the night for drinkin'! Go to sleep; the rhythm of the drums is a lullaby you're hearin' Cuddle close and dream a little dream, by the evenin' star you're steerin' CHORUS: And tonight's the night they're at the War When they've had enough of lovin', they'll have some more! That's what the War is for! Tonight's the night for drinkin'! Packin' up, it's time to say farewell to your friends and all the others Takin' back new stories for to tell from your sisters and your brothers CHORUS: But tonight's the night they're at the War When they've had enough to brag they'll brag some more! Give another cheer, we'll be back next year! 'Cause that's the way in the SCA! Who the hell keeps score at the Pennsic War? Who ever said that Camelot's dead? Tonight's the night for drinkin'!
YOUNG FOLKS, OLD FOLKS (c) copyright 1993 W. J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "Young Folks, Old Folks") CHORUS: Young folks, old folks, everybody come Come to the ritual and have a lotta fun Please check your bathing suits and undies at the door And we'll show ya Gods and Goddesses you've never seen before! The drums started beatin' and in walked Ininni Wearin' a bright green, skimpy string bikini Pan snuck up and tried to pinch Her on the rear Ininni said, "You old goat!" and kicked the chandelier! Bridget comes from Ireland, Bridget's pretty cute Runnin' all around in just Her birthday suit The things She did would make St. Patrick faint But they couldn't run her off, so they changed her to a saint! Herne is a Hunter, Herne's pretty blunt Herne came in with the entire Wild Hunt! They all got to partying, gettin' pretty loose: Antlers in the treetops! Who goosed a moose? Diana is a virgin, Diana is a prude Don't like partyin', hates bein' lewd Actaeon saw her in the bathroom, nekkid as a log So She got p***** off and threw him to the dogs! Artemis is sexy, She's about the best Really quite amazing, with fifty-seven breasts! She got popular, really made the scene When She showed off Her chest in Playboy magazine! The Morrigan came in, kicked Loki in the butt Then She turned Him around and kicked Him in the n*** She said, "It's a nice way of relieving stress..... ....I'm not really angry, it's just constant PMS!" The Fool got drunk and danced around the room Doin' lewd things with the handle of a broom Lillith got int'rested, they went off in the dark It ain't nothin' much; they're both an easy mark! (This thing's likely to get more verses one of these days. Comparative Religion's SO much fun!)
THE ROSES OF OUR LADY (Tune: "Roses Of Prince Charlie") (c) copyright 1991 W.J. Bethancourt III CHORUS: Come now, gather now, here where the flowers grow! Bright is the blossom as the eyes of your love! Hear now a Kingdom's call! We'll make a solemn vow, Now by the Roses of Our Lady! Fight again with shining sword and bright-emblazoned shield! Fight beside the heroes of Estrella's bloody field! Fight again and hold the line and never, ever yield! Fight beneath the Roses of Our Lady! Spirits of the Dreamers in far and distant lands Carved out the Known Worlde with sweat and blood and hands Come now, in glory, and on the silver sand, Fight by the Roses of Our Lady! Take your strength from the summer Sun that boldly blazes forth The deserts of the Southlands and the mountains of the North Stand fast together, let's show them what we're worth! Stand by the Roses of Our Lady! CHORUS 2X
MY FATHER WAS FROM ATENVELDT (MY MOTHER FROM CAID) (Tune: "Wearin' Of The Green") (c) copyright 1991 W.J.Bethancourt III My father was an Aten man, so young and strong and proud And in his shiny armour, well, he stood out from the crowd He met my mother at The War, they shared a tent that night And nine months later, who but me was born in morning's light! CHORUS: It's the most disgusting mixup, it was a dirty deed: My father was from Atenveldt, my mother from Caid! My mother dressed me up in silk and satins of the best With Tudor hat, and ribbon bows and cunning little vest With velvet jacket sewn with pearls, and yards and yards of lace And sent me off to Page's School to learn the courtly grace! My father took a look at me and nearly went berserk His face turned red, his eyes bugged out, he said I was a jerk! He grabbed a sword and shield and he put them in my hands "To hell with fashion statements, boy, you'll learn to be a man!" CHORUS I was so schizophrenic, I knew not who I am An Aten stick-jock or a West Coast 'Lizabethian! I'd bash or dance depending if I was with Dad or Mother I wore inches off my feet, and got bashed shorter from the other! A solution then occurred to me, both elegant and neat Both of them were happy, and believe me, it is sweet: If I must fight, and be a fashion plate with Caid sneer Behold me now, with sword in hand, a perfect Cavalier! CHORUS
FOR THE WEDDING OF SCOTT AND KATHLEEN (c) copyright 1989 W.J. Bethancourt III (A wedding song for one of my oldest friends in the SCA, Curlew of Drogheala, and his Lady Kat.) Love is not unpleasing; love is not unkind Love is chains of silken gold that binds your hearts and minds Two souls entwined as one, they stand together side by side So Scott, my friend, you're standing there, With Kathleen as your Bride! With all your friends here gathered round, we celebrate the day The union of these two as One in the old and ancient Way Let the Lady gather with us, with Her Lord there by Her side And Scott, my friend, you're standing there, With Kathleen as your Bride! Love is not unpleasing; love is not unkind Love is chains of silken gold that binds your hearts and minds Let Joy and Plenty walk with you, let Peace stand at your side And Scott, my friend, you're standing there, With Kathleen as your Bride!
WHATEVER BECAME OF CTHULHU (c) copyright 1993 by W. J. Bethancourt III (Tune: "Whatever Became of Hubert?") Whatever became of Cthulhu? Has anyone heard a thing? Did He die with a wail, with salt on His tail? Or retired with the Emperor Ming? What's become of cold horror and madness? We are missing His malice and badness! How can we His absence endure, Are the Old Gods returned to obscure? Are the horrors of H------ co-opted? Have the Goat's children all been...adopted? Disappeared in dimensions arcane and unknown Gone away with a wet, squishy plop...ted.... Does Cthulhu, at R'lyeh, lost under the waves Dream still of the Sacrifice no hero saves? Are Your priests and Your minions now through? Cthulhu, what happened to You?
BEACON HILL (c) copyright 1991 W.J. Bethancourt III All Rights Reserved (Tune: "Spancil Hill") Am G Am Last night as I lay sleepin' on a starship's outbound flight Am G Am Two years out from Earth and climbin' to the speed of light Am G Am I stepped aboard a vision, and I followed with my will Am G And thought of home and family Am G Am And the house near Beacon Hill It being the 4th day of July, when we our freedom won Bought by brave men's courage; by sword and pen and gun The young, the old, the brave and bold, they came for sport and thrill There were good times there with all my friends At the house on Beacon Hill I went to see my neighbors, to hear what they might say The old ones were all dead and gone, the young ones turning grey The years fly by at the speed of light, but for us, time stands still And time has laid it's heavy hand On the folks on Beacon Hill I paid a flying visit to my first, and only, love She was soft as any lily, and gentle as a dove But she had died ten years before, oh sweetheart I love you still! For time goes slow at the speed of light, But not on Beacon Hill I placed a flower upon her grave, and knelt and said a prayer And asked the blessings of my family; all were buried there! The shift-change bell it sounded then, it sounded loud and shrill And I woke upon a starship............... Many miles from Beacon Hill.
WILL WE STILL HAVE COUNTRY MUSIC OUT IN SPACE? (c) copyright 1991 W.J.Bethancourt III all rights reserved spoken: Now my Grandpa was an Okie, a Dustbowl refugee Made from wire and whipcord, and strong as the redwood trees He looked like he was old as dirt, in the California sun He'd look up at the stars at night and whisper "We ain't done!" Our family came from someplace to the north of somewhere else And we never had much to speak of, no lands, no kinda wealth So we came out to the New World, and started movin' West 'Til we hit the Western Ocean, in a land that's truly blessed... But boy, you can't go farther West, this ocean blocks our way Besides, there's just more people on the other side, they say... C C7 F It's time to move; it's time to show the stars just what we're worth! G G7 C Just as children leave their Mothers, it's time to leave the Earth! CHORUS I: (sung) C F We might not be the Captain, but we will be the crew G7 C Or maybe down in steerage, workin' our way thru C C7 Will we still have honky-tonks and bars? F Will we still sing "Amazing Grace?" G7 C Will we still have country music out in space? spoken: There's folks that say it can't be done, it's dangerous out there But your family is buried from the Highlands clear to here! We fought and died, but held our own, thru famine, fire and flood We paid our way for every step with rivers of our blood It may not be you that makes it, it may not be your son, But before his kid is dead and gone, it's a thing that -will- be done! There ain't much that scares folks like us, we love our liberty So get yourself to the "UP AND OUT," it's there you're truly free! CHORUS II: Will we still have mountain music? Will we still have good moonshine? Will we still have girls in tight-fit jeans Hangin' 'round and lookin' fine? Will we find some different good ole boys In a different, far-off place? Will we still have country music out in space?
THE WORD SONG (c) copyright 1980 W.J. Bethancourt III ("The Word Song" is a fragment of a larger talking blues called "Talking Guitar Blues," by Ernest Tubb. I added this part to it pretty much off the cuff one night in a live performance....and it has stuck ever since.) She said words I haven't heard -since-! She said words I haven't heard the -Hell's Angels- use! She said words I haven't even heard the Avondale -COPS- use! She said one word that was hairy, with eight legs on either side! The biggest, ugliest word I ever seen come screamin' right down the hall...right at -me!- Slobberin'! Fangs oozin' a corrosive poison! I captured it in a paper sack. It eats flies. Only hangup here was I had already been keepin' an adverb inside that sack. Oh yeah! You hafta keep adverbs locked up, 'cause they're rowdy. And see, the adverb was male, and the word that Momma hollered was female, so the adverb got the other word in the "family way".... you know....-predicate?- So right soon we had eighty-million little baby words runnin' all around the house, screamin' and yellin'...... Widdlin' on the furniture..... Hass'lin' the cat..... Oh yeah! One of 'em ran up and -punctuated!- Right into the cat's ear! Right out of it's -semi-colon,- there.... You know where the -semi-colon- is....it's on the other end of your -vowels-....you know, the part that's attached on to your -asterisk?- Which is the other end of your mouth, so watch what you say! And for Ghod's sake, don't -ever- talk backwards! Ghod knows what'll happen....... People ask me: how do you tell if a word is male or female? Well, ya turn 'em over, and the one with th' -danglin' participle- is the boy-word......the one with the -period-, of course, is the lady. You get an adjective with PMS, and boy, you got -trouble-! Right here in River City..... (Hear about the Dominatrix' Christmas? Yeah, she had a subordinate Claus....)
THE FILK WAS GREAT AT THIS YEAR'S WESTERCON (c) copyright 1991 W.J.Bethancourt III All Rights Reserved (Tune: "The Crack Was 90 In The Isle Of Man") G Went to the ConSuite feelin' great, started up 'bout half-past eight D7 C Me and you and several more with guitars and with songbooks G More came in about nine o'clock then the place began to rock D7 C Moved on down to a bigger room and started in engagin' G Until the crack of dawn! G D7 G The filk was great at this year's WesterCon! A couple of Pro's are listening in, wearing pretty sickly grins List'ning to their books dissected to the tune of "Greensleeves!" This one's gonna be rated "X", somethin' all about weightless sex Sixteen ways of "doin' it" with sixteen kinds of aliens And a horny mastodon! The filk was great at this year's WesterCon! Bob Kanefsky sounded great, Kay Shapiro came in late, Leslie Fish was off in the corner tunin' up her 12-string Somebody's singin' way off key; Oh my Ghod, I think it's me! Play or Pass or Name A Song; we'll sing it if we're able Until the crack of dawn! The filk was great at this year's WesterCon! Dorsai mercenaries grim; Robert Asprin? Yeah, that's him! What's that underneath your coat, looks like a little Tulley! Catch the grin on C.J. Cherryh! Looks like she ate six canaries! Get out the songbooks and we'll sing "That Real Old Time Religion!" And the songs of Silver John! The filk was great at this year's WesterCon! That looks like the SCA! Do they -always- dress that way? Ghod knows what they're doin' with the bagpipes and the bodhran! Rhino-Bard has got the floor; somebody throw him out the door! Willie the Disco Werewolf is a-dancin' with The Alien! He really turns her on! The filk was great at this year's WesterCon! Oh my goodness, bless my soul, we're drownin' out the rock'n'roll From the next-door hotel bar, the bar-keep is complainin'! Rick Cook now is gonna start; singing as a Martial Art! He sings the "Ball of Ballyknure," the wallpaper is peelin' Set your phasers on to "stun!" The filk was great at this year's WesterCon! Somebody called the city cops, told us that we had to stop The SWAT Team came and heard the music, and sat down to listen! DAG and WailSongs taped it all; the tapes will be released this Fall! Goodnight! I said and went to bed and pulled the pillow o'er my head It -still- was goin' on! The filk was great at this year's WesterCon! Ah, the filk was great at this year's WesterCon!
UNANSWERED QUESTIONS (c) copyright 1994 W.J. Bethancourt III (Tune "Sweet Betsy From Pike" aka "Vilikins and his Dinah") CHORUS: Does "anal-retentive" have a hyphen or not? Does a fella fall forwards or back when he's shot? Does Dolly Parton really have what she's got? Does "anal retentive" have a hyphen or not? Was Murphy an optimist or just a dork? Can you ever get past the third level of "Zork?" When Chinese eat out, do they use knife and fork? Does Sears sell you babies, or do they come from the stork? Is Schrodinger's Cat really living or dead? Is life something for real, or just in your head? Do stellar Black Holes end up where Einstein said? Is it an out-building, or is it a shed? Is there really a Monster down there in the Loch? Does the washing machine create extra socks? Do metal-headbanger's kids listen to Bach? Was that fella on drugs when he wrote "Jabberwock?" When your Senator talks, do you -really- believe? If you sound badly lip-synched, are you Japanese? Is it a perversion when Greenpeacers hug trees? If you marry a fat chick, it it bigamy? Does the light in the 'fridge remain on when it's shut? How do Fundies decide if it's art or it's smut? Is good ol' Rush Limbaugh really Jabba the Hutt? These questions are driving me off of my nut!
UP ON THE MOUNTAIN (c) copyright 1977 W.J. Bethancourt III D Up on the mountain the whiffle-tree broke G D And I can't go home again! Down by the river it played it's little joke E7 A And it got me in the end D I stayed all night with my little girl G D Cuddled up by the river bed D But up on the mountain the whiffle tree broke, A D And I can't go home again! D Well I'll make me a song about the times I had G D Livin' down by the river bed Livin' and a lovin' in the good Lord's sight E7 A And that's all that has to be said D So I got religion and I stayed a little while G D And I listened to the river bed D But up on the mountain the whiffle tree broke A D And I can't go home again! Song about the good times, sing about the bad Sing about the river bed An acre of land and a stubborn mule Without an ounce of sense in his head Got drunk last night on my way home And I fell into the river bed But up on the mountain the whiffle tree broke And I can't go home again!
SADDLE UP YOUR HORSE Traditional, new words (c) 1977 W.J. Bethancourt III G C CHORUS: Saddle up your horse, saddle up your grey D G Ain't a-gonna get no supper here today G C Put out the cat, turn out the light D G Ain't a-gonna get no supper here tonight I had a wife, she was a weaver She wouldn't work, and the Devil couldn't grieve here I had a wife, she was a baker She wouldn't work and the Devil couldn't make her At shootin' birds I am a beaut Ain't no birds that I cannot shoot Shoot 'em in the eye, shoot 'em in the ear Shoot 'em in the nose, shoot 'em in the finger This here verse doesn't have a lotta words..... I had a horse, had a horse named Bill When he ran, he couldn't stand still I had a dog, dog named Rover When he died, he died all over What can you do in a case like that? What can you do but stomp on your hat Or your eyeglasses, or your ball-point pen Or anything else that's helpless
THE WORK OF THE WEAVERS -Joe Bethancourt (c) copyright 2000 W.J. Bethancourt III We're all met t'gither here t'sit an' t'sing Wi' our guitars in our hands here t'mak the rafters ring An' there's nae a one among y' that could pick a single string If it wasna' for the wark of the Weavers! CHORUS: If it wasna' for the Weavers, what would y'do? Y'wouldna' hae your folksongs of love so true Y'wouldna' hae your folkies singin'o' th'blues If it wasna' for the wark of the Weavers! The rock'n'rollies mock us and they crack aye aboot's They say that we're all hillbillies an' cannae read a noot But yet, for a' their mockery they canna dae wi'oots Na! They canna want the wark of the Weavers! Pete Seeger and Fred Hellerman made it quite a treat Lee Hays and Ronnie Gilbert they sang it a' so sweet Eric Darling cam' in later on, fillin' in for Pete They're th' ones that did the wark of the Weavers! The music is a trade that niver can fail We don't need no 'lectricity t'bend anither's ear Sae let us all be merry wi' another glass of beer And we'll drink tae the health of the Weavers