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There's filking going on at nearly every single con.
It starts at dusk, continuing until the break of dawn, singing...
We filk in winter, spring, and fall, in fair or stormy weather,
In function space or hallways, in stairwells or wherever, singing...
If you don't know the lyrics, you are sure to learn them soon.
If you don't know the melody, then pick another tune, singing...
There's those of us who cannot play, and those who cannot sing.
We filk together anyway. It doesn't mean a thing, singing...
The filking clan is tolerant. So do whate'er you wish,
From smoking like a chimney, to drinking like L. Fish, singing...
When you get tired of fantasy or songs of outer space,
Sing songs of SCA, so I can flay you with my mace, singing...
If you are new to filking, don't be timid. What the hell,
I've filked for half a century, and still can't do it well, singing...
We're all for clever lyrics showing parody and wit,
And if you steal a tune or two, well, no one gives a damn, singing...
If you don't play an instrument, there's many here who do.
And most of us can sing off key as easily as you, singing...
If you are a collector, then the dealer's room will please.
There's books and tapes and instruments, and vinyl and CDs, singing...
Though petrol is expensive, you can surely share a ride
And hotel room to sleep in, fifteen others by your side, singing...
And when the con is over, and your own abode you seek,
Do not despair. There's bound to be another con next week. Singing...
Return to The Vampire Filker Bites Again
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Copyright © H. Paul Shuch, Ph.D.; Maintained by Microcomm this page last updated 29 May 2008 |
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