I started writing this Sunday morning at Phrolicon 7, the con that started me filking for good. It's the third filk I ever wrote and the second to survive.
It's three a.m. on a Saturday
The filkers wear tired looks
There's a young girl sitting next to me
Flipping through my large pile of books
She asks me to sing her a melody
What subject, she's not sure she knows
"Maybe sad and morose, or just bawdy and gross
But please don't sing `Banned from Argo'"
La-la-la...
CHO: Sing us a song, you're the filking fan
Filk us a filk tonight
For we're all in the mood for a parody
And we want to stay up all night
Now Dawn, on guitar is a friend of mine
She publishes filks for me
And she's quick with a tune
And she'll light up a room
And there's no place that she'd rather be
She says "I believe this agrees with me"
As a smile broadly spreads across her face
"Before cons I was never very popular
But now, I've really found my place"
La-la-la...
Now Paul is a fantasy novelist
Who sings sweet duets with his wife
And he sits next to John
Who attends every con
And would never dream of getting a life
And the evening turns into morning
As the tired fen stagger down the hails
They're each sharing their rooms with eight people
But it's better than paying for it all
CHORUS
It's a pretty good crowd for a filksing
As the filkers trade lyrics and smiles
'Cause they know that it's here
They'll find song and good cheer
And forget about sleep for a while
And the evening turns into morning
As we pass 'round the Tully and bheer
Till mundanes pass by
Stick their heads in and cry
"My God, how can you still be here ???"
La-la-la...
CHORUS