kip_w: (sarah tongue)
School bus rolls away.
Front yard empty. In the tree,
The swing, moving; still.

a long one

Dec. 21st, 2004 06:07 pm
kip_w: (Default)
Almost a year ago, a fellow denizen of (I confess, I haven't been there lately) was looking for a Canterbury Carol. I consulted one or two sources and, not finding one, set out to write one. I took Chaucer as my text, and proceeded to grind out the ensuing verses. It has no tune, though "Rejoice, Immanuel" was handy to keep in mind while writing it, so the thing would at least scan. I used some words that would have rhymed a long time ago, or at least thought I did. It just occurred to me I should post it soon if I wanted to hear it in the malls by Christmas.

Choruses: You could probably save a lot of time by only singing one at the beginning and one at the end. Just in case anyone wants to strike a middle course, I have indicated choruses after every few verses. Ignore at will. You say it doesn't look that long? Don't look inside, if you want to keep that illusion.


Pilgrims, nine and twenty number we,
Traveling in such a company.
To Canterbury now we all do come
To shrive our sins at Thomas Becket's tomb.

A KNIGHT I am, whose warlike chivalry
Does serve our peaceful Lord of Galilee.
To heathen foes the fight I'd gladly press
To show them Jesu's grace and gentleness.

I am his YEOMAN, clad in brightest green.
My bow is long, my arrows true and keen.
How dull is e'en the sharpest shining sword
When laid beside our savior's holy word.

kip_w: (Default)
All this talk of Marlowe makes me feel like quoting:

For long and weary hours, I bored myself
Counting the old, tired webs of spiders
In my narrow office. Just then I heard
A ringing sound from the bell out front,
And in my dismal garrett I beheld
A wench who made a good first impression
To my eyes. Her face, I thought could launch
A thousand or so ships, her eyes burn down
A hell of a lot of topless towers.
I took in her form and her tear-streaked face
She beseechingly asked, "Mister Marlowe?
I'm in trouble. They told me you could help."

(Christopher Marlowe, _The Tragedy of The Big Slumber_, act I)
[channelled by me and reprinted from rec.arts.sf.fandom, january 2003]
kip_w: (Default)
Minas Morgul was Minas Ithil
Now it's Minas Morgol, not Minas Ithil.
It's getting dark in old Minas Ithil
On a moonless night, by runic light.

The Uruk-Hai in old Minas Ithil
Lurk in Minas Morgul, not Minas Ithil
So if you've a doom in fair Minas Ithil,
It awaits thee in fell Morgul.

(Even old Mirkwood was once the Greenwood great.
Why'd they change? I dare not say --
Evil One liked it better that way.) So--

Take me back to old Minas Ithil.
No, you can't go back to old Minas Ithil
For the road leads not to old Minas Ithil.

Why did poor Minas Ithil pop its corks?
That's nobody's business but the Orks!

[ttto: Istanbul (not Constantinople). New words (c)2004 by Kip Williams]

Revived in honor of the video release.
kip_w: (tree)
I take a certain sort of pleasure in presenting the holiday classic:


Freddy the Snowman
With his scarf of red and green
Didn't look too spry, but my oh my
What a stone-cold death machine!

Freddy the Snowman
Got most everyone but me
With his eyes of coal and his evil soul
On his chilly killing spree.

There must have been a curse upon
That rusty kitchen knife;
When Suzy put it in his hand,
The snowman took her life! Oh --

Freddy the Snowman
Was a child molester too,
And I heard him say, being dragged away,
"I'll be back next year for you!"

(Hackity hack hack, hackity hack hack,
Hacking hard and deep;
Stabbity stab stab, stabbity stab stab,
Kills you in your sleep!)

[ttto: Frosty the Snowman. New words (c)2004 by Kip Williams]

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