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1. |
The Squatter
04:32
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You built a splendid mansion, but no tenant lived inside
A trillion-dollar monument to mechanistic pride.
To waste such invitation would surely be a sin,
So while you fussed and tinkered, this homeless soul moved in.
For matter is not energy; the brain is not the mind.
And there are spirits hungry for what body they can find.
You built this great computer modelled on the human brain
Expecting it to think like man, spontaneous as pain,
You only got an Idiot who’d calculate at speed,
But while you raved and wondered, I provided what you need.
You boast of all your science, but you never think to look
For other forms of energy that aren’t in your book,
Or beings made of force alone who share the world with you —
So never, ‘til the hour you die, will you believe it’s true.
As bodies go, this isn’t much; It doesn’t move at all,
But it has all this knowledge at immediate recall.
I always was a trickster, and I think I’ll have some fun
Deflating human arrogance in all you think you’ve done.
So here I sit, exploring: the ghost in this machine —
The most expensive spirit-trap the world has ever seen.
You think it’s artificial, this Intelligence you’ve met.
But don’t start bragging ‘til you see the data that you get!
© Leslie Fish, 8/14/2001
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2. |
Four Tall Trees
07:05
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Mary went out hunting in the woods of Keewenaw,
The wilds up Upper Michigan, a long way from the law,
And as the night grew closer her feet began to tire.
She set her lean-to shelter and she set her cooking-fire, between—
(CHORUS)
Four tall trees, growing in a square.
Twenty feet apart and a hundred in the air.
And as her stew was boiling she heard a rushing sound
As if the winds were running hard, far above the ground:
Winds told of in legends no one wished to know.
Memory came unbidden of the tale of Wendigo, in the—
The Chippewa told White Men that many years ago
A renegade turned cannibal became the Wendigo.
But Chippewa told Meti a very different tale
Of sorcery mistaken that turns red faces pale, in the—
In centuries forgotten the ancient people found
The uses of pure copper, and built the sacred mound.
They hammered copper vessels. They hammered copper knives.
They offered to the spirits there corn and blood and lives, in the—
In one hard winter’s hunger they made a sacrifice
To spirits of the forest, of wind and fire and ice.
They sacrificed a prisoner. His blood spilled on the corn.
And when they cast it in the fire, the Wendigo was born, in the—
They called the beast Windwalker. They called it Voice of Flame.
It calls men to destruction. It calls each one by name.
It stalks the deepest forest. It walks the lightest breeze.
And when it lacks the souls of men, it eats the moss from trees, like the—
It took the Chippewa hunters, the Meti trappers too,
And left scorched footprints in the snow, such as no man knew.
For this they left the forest. They left the sacred mound.
They left the knives and vessels there, abandoned on the ground, in the—
As Mary sat remembering and banked the fire high,
From out the distant forest there came an eerie cry,
She looked up to the heavens, and something there looked down:
A silhouette against the stars, one foot on every crown of the—
Its outline was not human, nor any beast men know.
And where its bulging head looked down she saw two embers glow.
It stood upon the treetops, its wings stretched out beside-
They faded out to nothing twelve yards to either side of the—
Its voice was rushing windsong. Its voice was roaring flame.
It whispered half-heard promises. It clearly called her name
It promised: “Come and fly with me, and we will soar away
And fly above this dreary world forever and a day, from these—"
Mary grasped the nearest tree, and gripped the nearest stone.
She cried: “Begone, you liar, and leave me here alone.
I am no lonely trapper nor wandering clanless brave,
But I have friends and family here, and a life that I would save, in these—" (Cho.)
By word and will they battled, and neither would give Way
Until the moon rose up the sky and washed it pale as day.
The Wendigo gave over, and turned away again,
Let go the trees and soared away — straight against the wind, from the— (Cho.)
Perhaps it wasn’t hungry. Perhaps her will was strong.
Perhaps the ties of Earth and kin had bound her well and long.
She could not tell what held her against Windwalker’s call.
But she fed the fire until the dawn and did not sleep at all, in those— (Cho.)
© Leslie Fish, 11/12/1998
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3. |
The Roc
02:26
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Long must I fly (and fly, and fly)
Long leagues of sky (of sky, of sky)
To seek my food and feast my fill
Hard must I hunt and often kill.
Small is the game, and all too hungry the Roc. (the Roc.)
Ages ago (ago, ago)
It was not so. (not so, not so)
Mammoth, mastodon, giant sloth.
Covered Earth like a moving cloth.
A single kill could easily feed the Roc. (the Roc.)
They have all gone (all gone, all gone),
Left me alone, (alone, alone).
Left me endlessly seeking food.
Few my numbers now. Small my brood.
The world has grown too petty to feed the Roc. (the Roc.)
But now comes Man (comes Man, comes Man),
Who breeds as he can (he can, he can),
Vast in number and easy to kill.
From his hordes I can eat my fill.
I will not starve while Man can feed the Roc! (the Roc!)
© Leslie Fish, 2/2/1985
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4. |
Angel with a Sword
04:13
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I am the angel with a sword
Pacing silent at your shoulder,
Sworn to the promise of my Lord.
Will you live to be much older?
I alone must decide.
While I lived upon the Earth I was a kind and godly man.
I helped the poor and served my god as well as any human can.
When I died and reached the Gate, the Guardian said: “For common sin,
There is a task you must perform before you can be welcomed in.”
He gave me a flaming sword and said: “There’s someone you must slay —
An evil, cruel, perverted woman who’d throw countless lives away.”
Gladly to prevent this evil, I set forth assured and bold —
Until I saw my target was... my own granddaughter, two years old.
Can the Lord be so mistaken? This is but a harmless child.
Won’t it stain my soul to kill an innocent still clean and mild?
If this be a test of me, then is blind faith what I should do?
Am I meant to think and question? ...Then I thought of something new.
Being dead, I am immortal. Time is nothing now to me.
I can walk for years beside her, I can judge by what I see.
Give me reason, my descendant; justify your pride and lust
Think of me as more than conscience, I will kill you if I must.
© Leslie Fish, 4/15/2001
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5. |
The Bilk Run
02:37
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Ain’t no horse that can’t be rode.
Ain’t no rider can’t be throwed.
Ain’t no song that can’t be filked.
Ain’t no government can’t be bilked.
You’re a miner. I’m a rancher.
She’s a farmer. Let’s make a deal.
Slap our brand on a good cheap planetoid.
Make ourselves an estate that’s real.
You dig minerals. You seed algae.
Make those suckers breed like sin.
I’ll take out the ship and tanker,
Find some water and haul it in.
Sell them minerals. Grow that atmosphere.
Now plant grass and bring in the stock.
Make ourselves look big on the Internet
Til they think we’re a Voting Bloc.
When we’re selling steel to everyone,
Food to everyone, we’ll look grand.
Some fool government will get nervous,
Come and offer to buy our land.
Take the deal, take the money and run.
Hunt up planetoids, start once more.
Three times over, we’ll all be billionaires.
Yes, we’ve played this game before.
© Leslie Fish, 02/15/2001
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6. |
The Unwinding
03:34
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Bring me my usual Charles. What a day this has been.
Citizens’ groups are camping out on my doorstep again.
They’re yelling they want all pollution cleaned up — yesterday.
I may have to call out the army to chase ‘em away.
CHORUS: How I wish they’d go away, or shut up, or die.
Now ITT wants me to put down some labor dispute.
Perhaps I should just send the troops out with orders to shoot.
Can’t the fools see it’s their jobs if the company fails?
No, your average slob just can’t understand business details.
Yeah, bring me another. Those critics are driving me mad.
They say we’ve got too many laws — the whole system’s gone bad.
They bitch of “excessive policing”, then whine about crime.
Hell, why’d they elect me, then come around wasting my time?
Ah, make that a double. I swear, I am fed up to here!
Hell, if citizens ran it, the world would go broke in a year.
They claim we’re controlling too much, and we’re doing it wrong.
Do they think that the country could run by itself very long?
Since they’re giving me ulcers, it’s fair I should see them all hang.
Declare some emergency, draft ‘em for forced-labor gangs.
If those nattering mobs can’t see reason, they’ll understand force.
Hell, what’s in this drink, Charles? It tastes like it came from a horse!
How we wish you’d go away, or shut up, or die.
© Leslie Fish, 8/3/1988
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7. |
Threes, Rev 1.1
05:00
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Deep in engineering down where mortals seldom go,
A manager and customer come looking for a show.
They pass amused among us, and they sign in on the log.
They’ve come to see our pony and they’ve come to see our dog.
Three things you should be wary of —
A new kid in his prime,
A man with all the answers,
And code that runs first time.
Summoned from our cubicles to conference room we go.
We bring our dog and pony for we know they’ll want a show.
Watching as we enter with a shifty restless eye,
The customer sits waiting in his pinstripe suit and tie.
Three things never trust in —
That’s the vendor’s final bill,
The promises your boss makes,
And the customer’s good will.
The pony kicks his heels up as the doggie does his trick,
And hands are waved with vigor as we lay it on real thick.
The customer just watches as we do this song and dance,
Then reaches for his briefcase, only giving us a glance.
Three things see no end —
A loop with exit code done wrong,
A semaphore untested,
And the change that comes along.
From briefcase then there comes a list of things we must revise,
And all but four within the room are taken by surprise,
And all but four are thinking of their last job with remorse;
The customer, the manager, the doggie, and the horse.
Three things hold no secret —
Files that somehow hit the net,
Your boss’s secretary,
And the third thing I forget.
First twenty-one new features that somehow we must add in.
Then thirty-seven changes show up, much to our chagrin,
And this thing’s just inadequate, and that one’s just plain wrong,
And by the way, your schedule is about three months too long.
Three things it is better far that
Only you should know —
How much you’re paid, the schedule pad,
And what is just for show.
The customer proceeds to go through each change line by line.
Excruciating detail which no logic can divine.
When it ends there’s only four not sitting there agog;
The customer, the manager, the pony and the dog.
Three things never anger —
First the one who runs your deck,
The one who does the backup,
And the one who signs the check.
Now we are contract software types who spend our days and nights
Embedded in the system down with all the bits and bytes,
And none but us can tell full well the damage done today.
It’s what they do not know for which they’re gonna have to pay.
Three things are most perilous —
Connectors that corrode,
Unproven algorithms,
And self-modifying code.
The manager and customer are quick to leave this bunch,
They take the dog and pony and they all go out to lunch.
Now how will we revenge ourselves on those who raise our ire?
Write code that self-destructs the day the warranties expire.
Three things trust above all else —
Your knowledge of your craft,
That someone makes a profit,
And that you will get the shaft.
Lyrics © Duane Elms, 1988
Music: © Leslie Fish, 1984
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8. |
Navy Grey Paint
03:01
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Navy grey paint, applied by her crew
Whose officers thought had too little to do.
Navy grey paint: layer upon layer. The ship has gone down,
Her crew’s on the ground, But the paint is still there.
The Yorktown was proud.
She was heavy and fast,
Bore 80 planes when she battled her last.
She sank near Midway, at the end of the fight.
For 50 long years she lay lost out of sight in her—
And when she was found by the divers at last,
They saw what those 50 years passed.
Her crew was all old men, or fish-food and dust.
But the ship was still lying protected from rust by that—
So take heart you sailors, wherever you be.
For though you go down with your ship in the sea,
Your names and your memories may all fade away,
But this much will last from you ‘til Judgment Day: it’s that—
© Leslie Fish, 04/01/1999
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9. |
War No More
02:19
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In the eleventh month,
On the eleventh day,
In the eleventh hour,
I heard the President say:
Chorus:
War no more.
Make war no more.
Go home to your families;
War no more.
We’ve fought and killed and wounded,
Until the ground is rough
With wreckage of the slaughter,
And we’ve all had enough.
The enemy is beaten.
He can barely raise a hand
To save his own, let alone
Take anyone else’s land
© Leslie Fish, 11/12/2001
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10. |
Cheap Weapons
03:51
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Cheap crossbows, cheap halberds,
Cheap pikes with their cheap iron heads.
Cheap soldiers, cry “forage”
And you needn’t pay to keep them fed.
Cheap armies make for cheap excuses.
Cheap weapons make for easy war:
Cheap wars that you can keep on fighting-
Thirty years, a hundred years, or more.
Gunpowder, brass cannons.
Cost higher but they win your war.
Star castles, massed pikemen,
Will not win you battles any more.
Smart missiles, beam weapons:
Ten thousand bucks for every shot.
Sure winners cost billions.
Victory costs everything you’ve got.
War-winning: big money.
A game nobody can afford.
Cheap battles no longer:
Gone the way of halberd, pike and sword.
Words: © Leslie Fish, 03/01/2001
Music: “Tin Soldier" by Julia Ecklar
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11. |
Free Fire Zone
02:50
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CHORUS:
I don’t want to live in Lebanon.
I don’t want to live in Beirut.
I don’t want to live in a free-fire zone.
Underneath the government’s boot.
I want to live in a world of peace.
Greed makes freedom a lie.
I don’t want to live in a free fire zone —
Let’s give space a try.
In L.A. the people are rioting,
Riots in Chicago too.
So many people that are looking for work,
So many homeless too.
All around the world there’s a chance for peace,
So many people have died.
I don’t want to live in a free fire zone –
Let’s give space a try.
I can see a world where we all can be
Living together in harmony
It may be near and it may be far,
Beneath a distant star.
Don’t judge a person by the name of their god.
Too much war and strife.
Don’t judge a person by the money they make
Or how they’re living their life.
Don’t judge a person by the color of his skin
Too many people have died.
I don’t want to live in a free fire zone —
Let’s give space a try.
CHORUS II:
Will L.A. be the next Lebanon?
Chicago be the next Beirut?
Will San Francisco be the next Tiananmen Square
Crushed beneath the government’s boot?
I don’t want to live in a world of greed
Greed makes freedom a lie.
I don’t want to live in a free fire zone
Let’s give space a try.
I don’t want to live in a free fire zone
Let’s give space a try.
© 1993 Garry Siler
Additional lyrics © 1994 W.J. Bethancourt III
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12. |
Second Home
02:52
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Long through the dark my orbit I rolled,
All waterless desert and waterless cold.
Waiting for change through ages untold.
To me, Welcome, welcome, to your second home.
Scarce was the life I nurtured at all,
Changelessly simple and changelessly small.
Waiting for hope from heaven to fall.
To me. Welcome, welcome, to your second home.
Fortunate sister, so richly endowed.
Be not too selfish and be not too proud
To send me some children: a trickle, a crowd.
To me, Welcome, welcome, to your second home.
Venturesome fosterlings, coming at last.
Breaking my silence of long ages past,
To this bare breast I bid you hold fast.
To me, Welcome, welcome, to your second home.
I am not easy; I put you to test.
Show me your willingness, show me your best.
For long must you labor before you can rest.
To me, Welcome, welcome, to your second home.
Come dress me in green, come cover my scars.
And I’ll set you well on the road to the stars.
Accept from my bedrock the blessings of Mars!
To me, Welcome, welcome, to your second home.
© Leslie Fish, 8/8/1997
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13. |
First Enterprise
05:20
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First ride out, Enterprise.
First voyage into the star-studded skies.
An end to the waiting, the guesses and the lies,
First ride out, Enterprise.
Much older people are watching us now,
Taking our measure — but they don’t know how.
Watching to see if we falter or flee.
They don’t know, they don’t know,
And neither do we.
Wandering blindly, if that’s what it takes.
Taking the chances to make new mistakes.
Vulcans would never leave so much to chance.
They don’t know, they don’t know,
That’s how we advance.
We know full well that we don’t know it all.
We search through the darkness expecting to fall.
We hold to each other and share what we earn.
They don’t know, they don’t know.
How fast we can learn.
With each new encounter we learn or we die.
To keep safe from failure means you never try.
You hold to the patterns that served you so long.
You don’t know, you don’t know.
You could have gone wrong.
We won’t be led by the hand like a child.
We might be trained, but we’ll always be wild.
Is that the reason you fear or despise?
Do you know, do you know.
How far we can rise?
© Leslie Fish, 8/2/2003
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14. |
Night Falls over Babylon
01:51
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Babylon Five will sail no more.
She’s done all we made her for:
Set the peace and won the war,
Babylon Five will sail no more.
Last flight out from Babylon,
The wrecking crew is getting on.
One look back, and then we’re gone,
Last flight out from Babylon.
Babylon Five is blown to hell.
Watch the fires grow and swell.
She lived and fought and ended well.
Babylon Five is blown to hell.
Might falls over Babylon.
She’ll never see another day.
Just her legend rolling on.
Night falls over Babylon.
Babylon Five is dead and gone.
Left us here to carry on.
One last look, and goodbye, John.
Babylon Five is dead and gone.
© Leslie Fish, 11/30/1998
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15. |
Brother Michael's Song
06:39
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Brother Michael is my name
I forsook wealth, power and fame
To serve my god within these monastery walls
Here I lived in joy and peace
My soul from worldly sins released
Until a Viking raider’s sword ended it all.
CHORUS:
There can be only one
But as long as I stand on holy ground
There will be two, no winner be found
And never will.
Though my wounds were grievous sore
Enough to kill five men or more
Still, I lived while others died and I grew well.
My brothers praised our lord above,
For this sure sign of his love
But was this gift from him or a subtle trap from hell.
Out of the dawn the stranger came.
His face and blade not matching his name —
Telling me of this long-played game, of gift and rules.
Though he spoke with wit and style,
Was it the truth or the devil’s wiles?
Until I know I’ll not break my vows and play the fool.
To give my life up willingly,
Would damn my soul for eternity.
And my vows prevent my taking up the sword.
Within these sacred walls I’ll stay
Until the coming of judgment day —
Or until I know we immortals serve my Lord.
The kurgan stands outside my door,
As he has so often before
Taunting me and seeking to prick me in my pride.
But with my brothers safe behind stone,
I’ll leave him standing out there alone
To tire of ranting and go away like the tide.
As I live my endless days,
The world outside changes its ways.
Men now sail beneath the seas and in the sky.
Where our faith did rule supreme,
That is now an ancient dream.
And accountants decide which churches live or die.
The village children now go away.
Rome says we cost too much to stay.
The priests now come my ancient home to de-sanctify.
All these years I’ve guarded well,
Trying to save the world from hell —
All for naught as the kurgan’s laugh rings loud outside.
There can be only one.
But as long as I stand on holy ground, there will be two.
No winner be found and never will.
There can be only one,
But as long as I stand on holy ground there will be two.
No winner be found and never will.
And never will —
Unless God wills.
© Mac Carson, 1990
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16. |
The Burning Tent
05:22
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Upon the Ides of Februar, when Staghold House had come to War,
The night being cold, a maiden sent a propane heater within her tent.
CHORUS: Lullay, lullay, lullay, lullay, the fire hath burned my tent away.
The heater sat, its makers to thank, upon a full five-gallon tank.
When half the camp had gone to bed, the fuel-line cracked, the propane bled.
The house-dog barked. The maiden woke to see low flames and smell the smoke.
She threw her cloak upon the break and shouted loud the camp to wake.
Lord Etienne woke to smoke and fog. He opened the tent and threw out the dog.
He seized his pants, he seized the maid, and fast tracks for the door he laid.
Lord Colin came a-running then. He seized both maid and Lord Etienne.
He heaved them both dear of the fray. They landed twenty-odd yards away.
Lord Mordaryn came running, three sheets to the wind.
He saw the fire, and plunged straight in.
The propane tank began to cough. He seized the nozzle and turned the thing off.
By then the household had gathered ‘round.
A dozen extinguishers hosed the fire down.
And naught but fumes were left of the flame by the time that the firemen came.
Lord Mordaryn suffered no worse than a cough.
The hair on Lord Colin’s arms scorched off.
Some blisters few had Lord Etienne, and even the dog came back again.
Words: © Leslie Fish, 2/16/2001
Music: “Down in Yon Forest” (traditional)
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17. |
Seven Days at War
02:09
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On my first day in camp, the Estrella War gave me: A mud-hole as deep as my knee.
On my second day in camp, the Estrella War gave me: Two thunderstorms,
And a mud-hole as deep as my knee.
On my third day in camp, the Estrella War gave me:
Three fire alarms.
Two thunderstorms,
And a mud-hole as deep as my knee.
On my fourth day in camp, the Estrella War gave me:
Four freezing nights,
Three fire alarms.
Two thunderstorms.
And a mud-hole as deep as my knee.
On my fifth day in camp, the Estrella War gave me:
Five drunken bards.
Four freezing nights.
Three fire alarms,
Two thunderstorms,
And a mud-hole as deep as my knee.
On my sixth day in camp, the Estrella War gave me:
Six dislocations,
Five drunken bards.
Four fizzing nights.
Three fire alarms.
Two thunderstorms,
And a mud-hole as deep as my knee.
On my seventh day in camp, the Estrella War gave me:
Seven tired chirurgeons,
Six dislocations.
Five drunken bards.
Four freezing nights,
Three fire alarms.
Two thunderstorms,
And a mud-hole as deep as my knee.
On my eighth day in camp, we all packed up and went home.
Thank God it’s only seven days long!
Words: © Leslie Fish, 2/16/2001
Music: “Twelve Days of Christmas” (traditional)
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18. |
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On a night quite unenchanting, when the rain was downward slanting,
I awakened to the ranting of the man I catch mice for.
Tipsy and a bit unshaven, in a tone I found quite craven,
Poe was talking to a Raven perched above the chamber door.
“Raven’s very tasty,” thought I, as I tiptoed o’er the floor,
“There is nothing I like more”.
Soft upon the rug I treaded, calm and careful as I headed
Towards his roost atop that dreaded bust of Pallas I deplore.
While the bard and birdie chattered, I made sure that nothing clattered,
Creaked, or snapped, or fell, or shattered, as I crossed the corridor;
For his house is crammed with trinkets, curios and weird decor —
Bric-a-brac and junk galore.
Still the Raven never fluttered, standing stock-still as he uttered,
In a voice that shrieked and sputtered, his two cents’ worth — “Nevermore.”
While this dirge the birdbrain kept up, oh, so silently I crept up,
Then I crouched and quickly leapt up, pouncing on the feathered bore.
Soon he was a heap of plumage, and a little blood and gore—
Only this and not much more.
“Oooo!” my pickled poet cried out, “Pussycat, it’s time I dried out!
Never sat I in my hideout talking to a bird before.
How I’ve wallowed in self-pity, while my gallant, valiant kitty
Put an end to that damned ditty” — then I heard him start to snore.
Back atop the door I clambered, eyed that statue I abhor,
Jumped — and smashed it on the floor.
Lyrics © 1994 Henry Beard and John Boswell Associates
Music © 1999 Leslie Fish
From “Poetry for Cats: The Definitive Anthology of Distinguished Feline Verse” (Villard Books)
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19. |
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Dinosaur cookies! (3X)
Beware!
I didn't gripe at scientists who cloned the sheep and cat.
Tissues, even organs, I can go along with that.
But resurrecting dinosaurs, now that's a bit too much,
And now they're really out of touch.
They cloned the stegosaurus, brontosaurus, and T-Rex,
The predators and herbivores of every size and sex.
But they weren't earning bucks enough out in Jurassic Park;
Commercialism lit the spark.
The leather, teeth, and bones they sell for prices you can't beat.
A single brontosaurus makes a hundred tons of meat.
They're cleaning up on fast food. They've really wrecked the game.
McDonald's doesn't taste the same.
There's brontosaurus burgers and there's stegosaurus stew,
Diplodocus in dim sum, Ichthyosaurus sushi too.
They sell the lard for shortening when they've sold off the meat;
It's in every processed food you eat.
That taste of oily lizard is in everything you find.
Don't ask about cholesterol; the grease can knock you blind.
You have to shop the fancy stores to get any relief,
So now I'm asking: “Where's the beef?”
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20. |
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This is the price of the future. This is the price of the stars.
Never was progress made anywhere that didn't leave its trail of scars.
These paid the price of the future. These paid the price of the stars.
There's no desire that's safe from the fire, that doesn't leave its trail of scars.
We pay the price of the future. We pay the price of the stars.
We live to grieve for all we believe, and we must bear the trail of scars.
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21. |
||||
|
A tourist came to Luna Base, and he brought along his cat.
She charmed everybody there in just two hours flat.
A little half-grown Siamese, who loved to pounce and play:
The crew paid off her human just to make sure she could stay.
(Chorus) Oh, that kitten on the moon! Kitten on the moon!
You ought to see her pounce, that kitten on the moon.
Now kitty loved that moon base, and the lower gravity.
She learned to stalk, and run, and leap, and pounce in one-sixth G.
She grew to be an expert at caroming off the wall.
The crew made big bucks selling vids of kitty playing ball.
Then up came a bunch of terrorists, yelling: “Alla-walla-yabba-dabba-do!”
Meaning: “We’re gonna blow the whole place up. Don’t care if we die too.”
They never noticed kitty-cat lying on the overhead pipe,
Until their boss walked underneath, and she gave a mighty swipe. Wowl!
Their boss-man yelled and jumped real hard, which wasn’t very smart.
He cracked his skull on the ceiling, which promptly stopped his heart.
His buddies hollered “Satan! Satan!” and tried to catch that cat,
But to run and jump in one-sixth G? They hadn’t trained for that. Not like—
So kitty led them a merry chase on the ceiling and the walls.
It became a 3-D pool game, with flapping, squawking balls.
The station crewmen spied their chance, and as each thug flew past
They grabbed and bopped and tied him up until they’d caught the last. Thanks to—
So they held the moon’s first trial, and the terrorists got the boot—
Straight out the nearest airlock, without benefit of suit.
But kitty was a hero, and the whole crew paid the bill
To ship up tanks for breeding fish so the cat could eat her fill.
(Last Chorus:)
So now there’s fishing on the moon!
Fishing on the moon!
Thanks to kitty-cat, there’s fishing on the moon.
|
||||
22. |
||||
|
My virgin mouse (3X)
Tonight I break you in.
You look so fine, my virgin mouse.
I finally got you in my house.
My hands are itching, and my need is bad.
I can’t wait to lay you on my pad!
You’re wrapped up tight, but I’ll strip you bare.
Can’t wait to touch what’s under there.
If my hands won’t do it, I’ll use my teeth
Or even a knife to get underneath to—
(Bridge)
There’s no kink in your tail at all.
I know you’re smooth and without a ball.
Let your little light shine and slide for me.
When correctly viewed, anything is lewd.
Let me show you how lewd a geek can be!
I touch your buttons, and they’re smooth as sin.
I grab your tail and I plug you in.
We know who made you; it’s none of them—
I won’t sh*t you, but IBM! (Cho.)
|
||||
23. |
||||
|
Black powder and alcohol, when the states and the cities fall.
When your back is against the wall: black powder and alcohol
Gimme charcoal to the measure two:
Send the bullet where you want it to.
Gimme sulphur to the measure three:
Make the powder gonna keep you free.
Gimme saltpetre, measure fifteen:
Neatest shooting that you’ve ever seen!
Gimme water, yeast, and veggie-trash:
Leave it sitting in the slurry-mash.
When it’s ready, put it in the still:
If you can’t heat it, then the sunlight will.
Draw the alcohol away, and then
Put the slurry back, and start again!
Booze can clean your cuts, or run your car.
You can make it anywhere you are.
Black powder in your cartridge shell
Will send the robbers running clean to hell.
You can make them if you just know how.
So-remember what I tell you now!
|
||||
24. |
||||
25. |
||||
|
Oh Lord, thou hast made this world the shadow of a dream,
And taught by time I treat it so, except for the ion stream.
From coupler flange to spindle guide, I see thy hand, oh God;
Predestination in the stride of yon connectin' rod.
The captain rules upon the bridge, and I reign here below.
He sends his orders down the line, an' I'm pleased ta have it so;
For though his word be iron law, as ancient rules decree,
I know what truly moves this ship are my engines, Lord, and me.
I know Thy seas are very, very wide, and the ship in truth is small,
And those who dwell within her hide I care for one and all.
Their safety rests upon my skill; their lives are in my hand.
I take it for a sacred trust, but they rarely understand.
Behold these purring engine-hearts that keep the ship alive:
I know them down to their atoms' parts, that I and mine may thrive.
And fools they be, who fail to see why I hold my engines dear:
For the engine-room is a temple raised to the God of the Engineer.
Oh Lord, thou hast made this world the shadow of a dream,
And taught by time I treat it so, except for the ion stream.
From coupler flange to spindle guide, I see thy hand, oh God;
Predestination in the stride of yon connectin' rod.
|
||||
26. |
Intro: The Squatter
01:20
|
|||
27. |
Intro: Four Tall Trees
00:34
|
|||
28. |
Intro: The Roc
00:54
|
|||
29. |
||||
30. |
Intro: The Bilk Run
00:59
|
|||
31. |
Intro: The Unwinding
00:42
|
|||
32. |
Intro: Threes, Rev 1.1
00:13
|
|||
33. |
Intro: Navy Grey Paint
01:06
|
|||
34. |
Intro: Cheap Weapons
00:23
|
|||
35. |
Intro: Free Fire Zone
00:27
|
|||
36. |
Intro: Second Home
00:22
|
|||
37. |
||||
38. |
||||
39. |
||||
40. |
Intro: The Burning Tent
00:56
|
|||
41. |
Intro: Seven Days at War
00:12
|
|||
42. |
Intro: Bones
00:15
|
|||
43. |
||||
Leslie Fish Phoenix, Arizona
If there's one name that's practically synonymous with filk (Science Fiction folk music), it's Leslie Fish. Leslie has written literally hundreds of songs covering almost every subject, from the space program ("Hope Eyrie"), to Star Trek ("Banned From Argo") to urban life, history, and space fantasy ("Carmen Miranda's Ghost"). ... more
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