Filk Songs

These are some of my more recent filk songs. Some of these are written to be sung with existing tunes (often other filk songs); others are to original tunes, not written here. Anyone is welcome to sing them for non-profit purposes at a private gathering or SF convention. However, these songs may not be broadcast or published (including electronic republication) without permission. ("The Emperor" is included under different terms, which do allow non-commercial republication, since I want what it's saying to be heard.) Other than that, have fun!

My German-language filk songs are now on a separate page:

Hobbit from the Brandywine

Music: Garvey, "Blacksmith of Brandywine"

Words: Gary McGath, Copyright 2000

Not to be confused with Bob Kanefsky's "Hobbit of the Brandywine."

Chorus:

Make it seven for the Dwarf Lords within their halls of stone.
For the Elves, make it three; for Humans, nine;
Make it one for the Dark Lord who sits on his dark throne,
And don't forget the hobbit from the Brandywine!

 
As we rode down into the Shire it was a sight to see.
A tiny little man with a horn in his hand beside a sawed-down tree.
And all around him on the ground, by sword and arrow-stroke,
A score of men who'll never fight again or loot the hobbit folk.
There many other hobbits stood, and they let out a cheer,
We heard the crowd shout praise out loud to four who had no fear.
From them we learned the story of a short but gallant man,
Who one day overthrew the Great Enemy with a Ring upon his hand.
 
Chorus
 
In Hobbiton a hobbit lived within a simple hole,
To sit and smoke and tell a joke had been his only goal.
But the wizard said that a toy he had was a great and mighty thing,
And he left his home for a distant land and destroyed the Dark Lord's Ring.
His errand done, he journeyed home, but sorrow there he found.
For Saruman had taken o'er, and was boss now of his town.
The hobbit band set free their land, and they drove the robbers out,
And along the line of the Brandywine, you could hear the vict'ry shout.
 
Chorus

When Martians Fought

Words: Gary McGath, Copyright 1999

Music: Kathy Mar, "When Giants Walked"

Before the planets all were dead, the worlds were playground for us all,
And Martians were our deadly foes, before they took that tragic fall;
And life was found on Venus from the jungles to the shore,
But no one writes of Martians any more.
 
Before the planets all were dead, when rocketships were something new,
Before our science learned to see, before we got a closer view,
The Martians came to conquer and we loved to feel the scare,
But now we cannot find them anywhere.
 
Chorus:

Oh, take me up with Cavorite to that old time the Earth once knew,
When all the worlds alive with creatures shared a future bright and new,
When we could shake the tentacle of what some spaceship brought,
When Martians fought.

 
And then the planets all were dead; no water and no air for life.
And all the good and bad ET's no longer came in peace or strife.
And when we humans saw this, there was nothing more to say,
And that was when the Martians went away.
 
Yes, when we learned the worlds were dead, they faded into SF dreams.
The hostile or defenseless BEMs, the ones that gave us smiles or screams,
All vanished into legend with the coming of the dawn,
And now nobody knows where they have gone.
 
Chorus
 
So now the planets all are dead; a Lens is just a useless token.
Science says we're all alone; the speed of light cannot be broken.
Everyone who still recalls the aliens we sought
Would love to go to where the Martians fought.
 
And if the Solar System's dead, then we'll just take a longer trip;
And if I ever get the chance, I'll climb into a near-C ship
To leave behind the Earth and Sun as we go out in space,
Until we find a living alien race.
 
Chorus
 

Flatten the Grain

Music: Cat Faber, "Flatten the Grass"

Words: Gary McGath, Copyright 1999

Out in the cornfield, we find now and then,
A circle of grain has been flattened again.
No one can tell how it came to be here,
We're thoroughly certain that no one was near.
 
Here is an answer that someone might pick:
It's only a prankster with rope and a stick.
That can't be true, and I tell you I know.
For Weekly World News has declared it's not so.
 
Chorus:

Flatten the grain, flatten the grain,
What are they doing to flatten the grain?
Flatten the grain, flatten the grain,
What are they doing to flatten the grain?

 
I went to the pasture and found in the mud
The cattle all lifeless and drained of their blood.
They were all hacked up yet never I found
Even a hint of their blood on the ground.
 
I have been told that it's wolves in a pack,
Killing the cows in a nightly attack.
Ever so neatly some foe took their life,
And who's seen a wolf with a surgical knife?
 
Chorus
 
So down to the meadow I went on a run;
A hundred sheep stood there where there had been one.
All were alike as alike as could be;
Never a difference was there I could see.
 
I have been told that sheep multiply fast;
Each generation has more than the last.
Here is a question, please give me some clues:
How do they multiply if they're all ewes?
 
Chorus
 
I woke up in bed to a frightening sight:
Five little green men standing there in the night.
They said the answers to me they would show,
If I would just step into their U.F.O.
 
I jumped out the window and beat a retreat.
In my pajamas I ran down the street.
I guess it was foolish, I figure somehow
If they know the answers, they won't tell me now.
 
Chorus
 

When Your Dream Dies

Music and Words: Gary McGath, Copyright 1999

Inspired by Vernor Vinge's A Deepness in the Sky.

I dreamed a great dream for humanity,
Where justice was lasting and worlds were free.
The price would be high and the battle hard,
And some would not gather the reward.
But now I have looked on the enemy;
I've seen what she was, what she came to be.
There's nowhere to hide from what I now see--
What do you do when your dream dies?
 
I thought I could turn evil means for right,
To wield as a sword in a noble fight.
For five hundred light years, three thousand years,
I held to the dream despite my fears.
Now who dares to tell me the price is too high,
And how dare he tell me I've dreamed a lie.
How dare he be right! Now let me die--
What do you do when your dream dies?
 
The choice was to kill or to lose it all,
But she too had fought, and was now a thrall.
They made her a tool, shaped to serve their aim--
And what's worse, I would have done the same.
The goal which I fought for cannot be so.
Now I must protect my most deadly foe.
But can I buy justice with slavery? No.
What do you do when your dream dies?
 

Boskone Recruiting Song

Words: Gary McGath, Copyright 2000

Music: Sheila Willis, "Rebel Queen"

This song was performed by a small chorus at the Boskone 38 opening ceremonies.

Chorus:

Come ye fans and come ye gofers,
Who are sitting on the sofas.
You're hard workers, you're not loafers,
Come and join the Boskone crew.
Come and help us if you're hearing,
Sign up and we'll all be cheering.
It's the time for volunteering,
Come and join the Boskone crew.

 
Came into a new convention,
Didn't know where I should go,
When someone came up and asked me,
"Can you help at our art show?
Meet some people, earn a T-shirt,
Get the Chair's and concomm's thanks,
Once you learn the way the con's run,
You could rise within our ranks."
 
Chorus
 
Walked into a cluttered storeroom,
Found things that were thought long gone,
Found lost works by Michael Whelan,
Prints not seen since Nolacon.
Brought the pile into good order,
Indexed and wrote up the plan.
Was invited back the next year,
Now I am a big name fan.
 
Chorus
 

Red Fields of Ink

Words: Gary McGath, Copyright 2001

Music: Eric Bogle, "No Man's Land"

See eyada.html for background information.

Well, how do you do, eyada.com?
It's seems that you've gone and blown up like a bomb.
You soaked up those millions as if they were booze,
And all those you suckered now find that they lose.
Investors in Two Thousand thought it was fun,
And never thought forward to Two Thousand One.
Well, I'm glad you died quick and are gone from the scene,
For the stuff that you pulled was much worse than obscene.
 
Chorus:

Where'd you go with the money?
Did you think it was funny
To make threatening calls and invade people's lives?
Did you think your harassment was clever?
Did you think you could fool folks forever?

 
Now the phrase "to make money" should mean something fine;
It should mean to create, to bring forth from the vine.
But too many believe it's just waving a wand,
Or sucking the wealth out of people they've conned.
Now in Two Thousand One many of them have learned
That it's just an illusion unless it is earned,
And they're forced for the first time to stop and to think
That they're digging their grave neath the red fields of ink.
 
eyada.com, I must wonder why
You thought you could get rich by selling a lie.
But Bob Meyrowitz seemed to think there was a trick
To get instant money by means that are sick.
And the cheaters, the sleazes, all out for quick gain
Cause losses and lawsuits and ulcers and pain,
And we know that some bozo will try it again...
And again and again and again and again.
 

Born-Again Ring

Words: Gary McGath, Copyright 2002

Music: Julia Ecklar, "Born-Again Ring"

Based on Debbie Ridpath Ohi's Waiting for Frodo

Rosie, I, and Gladys stood
In line from spring to fall.
We laughed at Gandalf's fireworks
And wept in Balin's hall.
And we talked for three months running
Of each slight change in the plot--
And we are saved, we are saved, we are saved!
 
For there's just one ring to rule them all,
There's a million orcs at war,
And we've got the elves at Rivendell,
So who needs Gryffindor?
And if Harry thinks that he's a star
'Cause he can catch a snitch,
Just tell him we've got Arwen
And she is a gorgeous...
[Spoken] Put that sword down, Aragorn...
lady.
 
But it's born again, yes it's born again,
We've seen a brand new life for Middle Earth.
And we know again that Frodo has been born again,
We were privileged to witness his rebirth.
 
Don't tell anyone what we all know:
That Gandalf isn't dead.
We may gripe that they dropped Bombadil
To add more fights instead,
But we'll all come back a seventh time,
It's worth it, you'll agree.
And we'll go to buy the soundtrack disc
And then the DVD.
 
For it's born again, yes it's born again.
We'll show those cartoon hobbits where we stand.
Twenty years it's been, but Bakshi won't be seen again,
And I'm proud to be a CGI Ring fan!
 
Now we'll all be getting back in line, we just can't stay away.
Two Towers starts in late '02; let's start the queue today.
So J.R.R., please hear our prayer, and keep those films on course.
We'll make them stay close to the books
And, if we must, use force.
 
But it's born again, yes it's born again.
We're proud of Peter Jackson, yes indeed.
And we know again, that this year we will go again
So until it starts we're waiting patiently.
And we'll do it yet a third time in '03!
 

The Program

Words: Gary McGath, Copyright 2002

After Kipling's "The Palace"

May be sung to Leslie Fish's tune for "The Palace"

When I was a geek and a hacker, a coder proven and skilled,
I drew up the specs for a program, such as a geek should build.
Then I searched for old code in the archive; presently, deep in the disk,
I came on the wreck of a program, such as a fool might risk.
 

There was no worth in the fashion; there was no wit in the plan;
Hither and thither with GOTO's the wild spaghetti ran;
O.O.P. brute and mishandled, but written in every file:
"After me cometh a hacker; tell him I know it's vile."
 

Swift to my use in the branches, where my well-planned classes grew,
I pulled out the best algorithms, and then compiled them anew.
Lines I grabbed from the headers, made them ANSI correct,
Taking and leaving at pleasure what wasn't flatly wrecked.
 

Yet I despised not nor gloried, yet, as I wrenched them apart,
I read in the broken framework the heart of that hacker's heart.
As he had risen and pleaded, so did I understand
The form of the dream he had followed in the face of the code he planned.
 

When I was a geek and a hacker, in the open noon of my pride,
They sent me a word from the VP; they whispered and called me aside.
They said, "We've run out of money." They said, "The contract's been killed.
Thy program shall stand as that other's, the spoil of a buyer to build."
 

I stored my code in the archive, my headers, my makefiles, and scripts.
All I had wrought I abandoned to their fate in the software crypts.
Only I wrote in the labels--only I marked in each file:
"After me cometh a hacker. Tell him it still is vile."
 

Your Crook's Name Here

Lyrics: Gary McGath, Copyright 2002

Music: Lou and Peter Berryman, "Your State's Name Here"

The campaign reform laws say when we complain,
They won't let us cite politicians by name,
And so I have written a few lyrics here,
Of a rat you all know, [Your crook's name here].
 
No robber's so rotten, no crimes quite so clear
As those acts committed by [your crook's name here].
He'll soon stab your back, although I don't know when.
There's no one so false as [your crook's name again].
 
Chorus:

Oh, [your crook's name here], oh, [again], what a crook.
I've read of his misdeeds in [name of a book].
And the asshole tells us a new lie every year,
In the stale campaign speeches of [your crook's name here].

 
The papers reported his robbing the plate,
A scandal we all know as [fill the blank] gate,
His bills have provisions that go on for hours,
Ignoring restrictions on [specified powers].
 
The pledges he makes are two-faced and obscure.
He learned from the last thief in office, I'm sure.
The words that he uses are linguistic rape,
Like [expletive deleted] all over the tape.
 
Chorus  
His friends pile up fortunes while we pay the tax,
And he manufactures [a few so-called facts].
The web pages make their opinion quite clear
With an eye, and a pyramid, and [your crook's name here].
 
Whisper it softly, so no one will hear.
[Your crook's name here, your crook's name here]
In office he sits and it's there he'll grow old
By the barrels of pork and the mountains of gold.
 
Chorus  

The Emperor

Lyrics: Gary McGath, Copyright 2005

Music: Stan Rogers, "The Idiot"

This song is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution - NonCommercial - ShareAlike 2.5 license. This permits noncommercial republication without specifically asking me. Attribution should be as above.

I often run these wiretaps when there is no judge around.
I turn my back on the legal track and jump out like a hound.
Beyond the Constitution's fence, whistleblowers make no sound.
Limitations stink, or so I think, and that's what I have found.
 
I remember back four years ago, when terror's hand arose
And every day the news would say some business is going to close.
Well I could have stayed within the law, but I'm not one of those.
I leave no one free, and that makes me an emperor, I suppose.
 

So bid farewell to the liberty you never more will see.
Obey you must, so you'll lick the dust and bow your heads to me.
Oh, you'll miss your rights when I set my sights on each action that you chose.
I'm the C in C, and that makes me an emperor, I suppose.

So come all you fine young fellows to Iraq and hit the ground.
This desert life's no paradise, but you're keeping the en'my down.
You can give 'em hell, run a torture cell, let them think they're going to drown,
For the National Guard will pull you hard, out to some eastern town.

So bid farewell to the conscience clean you never more will see.
No self-respect, just a steady check, and your funeral's thrown in free.
You won't get much green, and the work's not clean, and the stench will fill your nose,
But you'll serve me, and I will be an emperor, I suppose.

Bury Me Under a Star

Music and Lyrics: Gary McGath, Copyright 2007

In memory of Dick Eney and Dave Alway

Printable music (TIFF)

When finally my life is done,
When no road's left for me to run,
Beyond the final setting sun,
Bury me under a star.
 
For me no cross of guilt and pain,
When I'm beyond all loss and gain.
Just let this sign of hope remain:
Bury me under a star.

Take up the best you saw in me
For life, not just in memory,
And when you win some victory,
Then I'll be where you are.

The treasures I will leave behind
Are those which reach some other mind.
I'll put them down for you to find.
Bury me under a star.
 
For even in the final night,
A dream that was can shed a light
And bring another dream to flight.
Bury me under a star.

From life to life, we pass it on,
So that the best is never gone,
And after darkness comes a dawn,
Though it may seem so far.

Not all I've done will go away
If something of my light can stay,
So till you see another day,
Bury me under a star.
Bury me under a star.

 

The Velveteen Menace

Lyrics: Gary McGath, Copyright 2005

Music: Kathy Mar, "Velveteen"

Inspired by "The Cuddly Menace"

When I was found and taken home all snuggled close and warm,
I knew that I must guard against all defects in my form,
They think me just a shabby toy within a small child's room,
But if someone should find me out, then that could spell my doom.

I must be alert so no one will learn the truth and warn
The humans of my nature, of the fact that I am Zorn.

I know the need for secrecy in our invasion plan.
We must reach every household without being known to man.
I sit here, only watching, none suspect that I have life.
But the danger of discovery hangs o'er me like a knife.

I must be alert so no one will learn the truth and warn
The humans of my nature, of the fact that I am Zorn.

Now someone special in my life has somehow learned the truth,
In spite of my toy rabbit form and his unpracticed youth.
I knew he understood as soon as I beheld his eyes.
He'd learned I am alive in ways that nothing could disguise.

I destroyed him in a moment, so that he could not warn
The humans of my nature, of the fact that I am Zorn.

Now all you Zorn who worry that your shape is not quite true,
And all with worn-out cotton fur and scales now showing through,
And all who make a careless move and fear someone will see,
Remember this instruction from your sector leader—me.

You must be alert so no one will learn the truth and warn
The humans of our nature, of the fact that we are Zorn.
 
We must wait until the day to strike, when it's too late to warn
The humans of our nature, of the fact that we are Zorn.

Last revised October 19, 2008

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