This is on one level a nice song about the filk community, and on another level the weirdest thing I've ever created.
To the tunes of: The Horse-Tamer's Daughter, Hope Eyrie, The Star of the County Down, Shai-Hulud, The Ballad of the Flying D., Sam Jones, Unreality Warp, Don't Push That Button, Mount Tam, Lullaby for a Weary World, Carmen Miranda's Ghost, Witnesses' Waltz, The Wreck of the Crash of the Easthill Mining Disaster, Home, Callahan's Bar, Matty Groves, and Like a Lamb to the Slaughter.
P.S. I know some of those songs' tunes aren't original to them, but (e.g.) the reference is specifically to Callahan's Bar, not to Oh! Susanna.
My friends they were all filksingers who'd join in each refrain
Their worlds grew old and their suns grew cold, but they got little gain
For few folk come to SF cons now, the youth have gone away
And the goings-on at the Comic-Con are where they prefer to play.
So few we were but bold we were, to sing for hours or more,
And I was a shy young neofan with a few folk songs in store.
Singing, “Shai-Hulud, send me a good voice! Send me the courage to take my turn!”
...You know the drill.
The trufen told me cradle-tales of the great days long ago
How the filkers sang Dead Dogs for hours and sleep they did forgo
When the filk is up on a Monday morning and it's whipping the songs to a foam
You know by noon they'll be still a-yarning and no one wants to go home, no
No one wants to go home
So year by year my skills improved, or at least I got quite loud,
And all the time I wondered why SF had a smallish crowd
Then I met Sam Jones at a Midwest con, in a rundown hotel bar
A man of maybe fifteen drinks, he would not be going far
“A fan is more than born,” he said, “they're trained from infancy,
And today's kids just watch Spongy Bob and their anime TV.
They're being followed by cartoon shadows!
Cartoon shadows, 'toon shadows!”
So I spaced him. Wouldn't you?
He pushed my buttons! Must be said, he pushed my buttons! Now he's...anyway...
There I sat at the end of the bar—the lights were low and my room was far
And the TV rocked my weary head to sleep
I lay all night a-dozing there, my head slumped on my chest
And no one came to wake me up, but I got little rest
For Carmen Miranda's ghost came haunting little old me
Unsolicited advice and fresh fruit both came free
“To draw in your new fans,” she said, “Go back when filk was great,
And only sing the songs from before nineteen eighty-eight.”
I said: “Twelve thousand, half million, million and more,
Songs that we all have heard often before?
Nobody minds hearing well-beloved tunes,
But surely there's more stuff that we should be doin'?”
Let me tell you the story, as wild as it's true,
Of the startling advice giv'n by ghost number two
He looked like a rock star, all decked out in black
And he said “That Miranda chick's on the wrong track:
Ditch all the old folk stuff,
You need to do nerd rock
And hip-hop and wizard rock—
Make everything new and you'll get your fans back.”
I said: “I don't think we need to go that far
I don't know if that would bring us up to par
I don't want to be a rock star
OK, I'd kind of like to be a rock star
But what we need to build is someplace where
The folkies and the rockers both can have a home.”
Of course, I knew the drill by now, and spirits one and two
Must needs give way to spirit three before my night was through
But the spirits flocked both thick and fast, and so the whole night long
I heard a million preferences for a million kinds of song.
I cried: “Spirits, O Spirits, oh, won't you tell me where
Neofen are hiding, and we'll do recruitment there?”
Well, finally the morning came to end my troubled sleep
When I awoke, the conchair was standing at my feet
Saying, “How do you like the hotel bar, and how do you like the seat?
How do you like your room upstairs, with mattress, pillow, and sheet?”
In the interests of brevity, I'll omit the section where I try to explain the weird dream I just had...
All forty-seven verses of it.
Suffice it to say that the epiphany I had—once I'd brushed my teeth and gotten some coffee—
Is that the form of the song doesn't matter too much.
As long as it's not mean, it can be about anything you want, in whatever style you want.
Just make sure to share it with people and listen to their songs in turn.
And maybe I could have put that part to music, but this song is long enough already.
So I'll never sing Horse-Tamer, it's much too long for me
Madeira is right out, but give us Hope Eyrie,
Dawson's Christian, Sam's Song, Somebody Will hear—
If we share our finest songs, new friends may yet appear.
@janeg Mar 2022
This is so brilliant! If you are going to debut this in a virtual circle, I ant to know when, so I can watch the faces.
I had not thought of petitioning Shai-Hulud for a better voice. Sounds worth a try.
@mhorning Feb 2022
Oh my god Luke, I think you owe me a new lung I am laughing so hard.
Somehow my favorite line is "So year by year my skills improved, or at least I got quite loud"