FILK WARS: FRIENDLY FIRE 1

(Tune: "Fal Morgan")

Phil Allcock, Phil Allcock, when morning dawns grey,
I still can remember how you sing and play,
Your free easy laughter, your grin like a loon's,
And your dangerous habit of filking Mike's tunes.

Now Mike's a musician, and so he's high-strung,
And he winces each time that your versions get sung.
Oh, he plays the accomp'niment, but it's clearly a wrench,
And when someone says "Phil Allcock" you'll see his teeth clench.

Now we're fighting the Filk Wars, the judgment awaits,
But Mike's got a strange look, just like Norman Bates.
You've gone for a shower, and my heart's filled with pain,
For I fear I shall never see Phil Allcock again.


FILK WARS: FRIENDLY FIRE 2

(Tune: "The Queen of Air and Darkness", slightly forkled about)

It was the filker Allcock, stood waiting for a train,
Where muggers stalked the shadows, and lamplight caught the rain.
The night was dark and stormy, with stench of oil and sweat,
Each late-night fellow-traveller, a spectral silhouette.
The chords go under the melody.

At last a train came slowly, along the darkened track,
The carriages were silent, the sides all scarred and black.
And Allcock, lost in dreaming, of concerts, tapes and more,
Unseeingly he boarded, and closed the carriage door.
The chords go under the melody.

The first thing that he noticed, when he had found a seat:
The people in the carriage, were somehow incomplete.
They'd limbs and organs missing, it really was quite vile,
And on to every mournful face was fixed a deathly smile.
The chords go under the melody.

Then up came the conductor, through the connecting door,
And Allcock had the feeling, he'd seen his face before.
His eyes they glittered evilly, with the light of a fallen star,
And slung across his shoulder, he carried a guitar.
The chords go under the melody.

"Hello there, filker Allcock," the conductor then did say.
"I hope you have a ticket, to ride this train today.
Behold your fellow-travellers, you have no need to fear;
See how they all are smiling, they're glad to see you here."
The chords go under the melody.

Up spoke the filker Allcock: "I just don't understand.
Who are these mangled cripples, I see on every hand?"
Up spoke the train conductor: "How can you not suspect?
I tell you these are ose songs, that you have filked and wrecked."
The chords go under the melody.

"Their bodies are distorted, because you did not care
To learn the flashy harmonies, the writer put in there.
And as for their expressions, those smiles so fixed and mad,
They're jokes that you have added, to songs that should be sad."
The chords go under the melody.

"Now come you filker Allcock, and join my mangled crew,
For when I let my songs loose, they'll do the same to you.
Your fate will be far stranger, than any man's before,
Unless you swear a solemn vow, to filk my songs no more."
The chords go under the melody.

Up spoke the filker Allcock: "I'm sure you must be wrong.
For I'm a human being, and these are only song.
This is some crazy nightmare, inspired by too much beer,
And as for making solemn vows, alas, my friend, no fear."
The chords go under the melody.

Up spoke the train conductor: "You really are too dim.
I need not harm your body, to wreak my vengeance grim.
Your fannish reputation is what I shall destroy,
Till all fen know you what you are, a feeble filking boy."
The chords go under the melody.

"My mutilated children, I'll still perform and play,
And loudly give you credit, till your own songs fade away.
And each perverted lyric will magnify your wrongs.
Go home now, filker Allcock, set free to filk my songs."
The chords go under the melody.

The train and the conductor, all vanished from his sight;
He stood there in the station, locked in till morning's light.
The chords go under the melody.


FILK WARS: FRIENDLY FIRE 3

(Tune: "Daddy's Little Girl")

Michael's little ose song got filked again last night,
Some six or seven times--before the dawn. (Sorry.)
Now Michael's getting angry, and he says it isn't right,
That callow filkers treat his songs with scorn.
Oh, but he won't use the dagger, the poison or the axe,
He's writing one more ose song, that'll stop them in their tracks,
The tune gets

CHORUS	Higher, higher, higher, till even Anne can't stand the pace.
If it gets much higher, it'll end in outer space.
Anyone who filks it, will lose their voice for sure,
When Michael's little ose song gets its due,
For real musicians know a trick or two.

Michael's got it all worked out, he's using all his skill
To make his song as filkproof as he can.
And those who try to learn the tune, as filkers often will,
Discover one more facet of his plan.
For when they hear him play it, in the round or on the stage,
Their keen anticipation will turn to baffled rage.
He picks it

CHORUS	Faster, faster, faster, till his fingers ache and bleed,
He wraps them up in plaster, and piles on still more speed.
Only he can play it, and only he would dare,
It's enough to break a fannish filker's heart,
But real musicians suffer for their art.

Filkers aren't musicians, with a few exceptions rare,
They play by ear, and fudge when they go wrong.
But Michael's an exception, and he's taken special care
To hide a few more pitfalls in his song.
For anyone who penetrates the flashy picking style
On studying the harmonies, will utter curses vile.
The chords get

CHORUS	Stranger, stranger, stranger, as the melody tries its wings,
There's a real danger, that he might run out of strings.
Seven or eight, or twenty-four, are what these chords require,
And nothing else will fit but what he plays;
In the Filk Wars it's musicianship that pays.

The song is all complete now, Michael's thought of every trick,
But still he has a feeling of unease.
The tune is high and chilling, the guitar part's really slick,
But Michael's lost the wood among the trees.
Oh, he's made the song unfilkable, but he forgot one thing.
For Michael's little ose song, is just no fun to sing.
For it goes

CHORUS	On and on for ever, as the darkness drowns the day,
The filkers say "How clever", as they slowly walk away.
He's done his job too skilfully, he's broken all the rules,
The Filk Wars have their Hiroshima now,
And Michael's got to live it down somehow.