Aine's Mudcat Songbook PermaThread

Subject: RE: Aine's Mudcat Songbook PermaThread
From: bradfordian
Date: 06 Sep 22 - 03:36 PM

Àine was posting on Mudcat from 1998 and her last post was 28 October 2007. She ran song challenges which she hosted or ported to Geocities. This website was taken over by yahoo and eventually all content was deleted. In 2010 Joe Offer was able to retrieve much of the song challenge content from a backup website and port it into Mudcat (in this thread) There are more song challenge threads scattered throughout Mudcat to still pull into the songbook index.
Àine suddenly disappeared from Mudcat and as far as I know there has been no further contact.
I would like to place on record on behalf of Mudcat appreciation and gratitude for the work that Àine was involved with on Mudcat.
Barrie Mathers (Bradfordian)

Subject: RE: Aine's Mudcat Songbook PermaThread
From: Felipa
Date: 04 Feb 21 - 04:22 PM

whatever happened to Áine Cooke? She hasn't posted on Mudcat, at least not as "Áine" since 2007 according to my search.

Subject: Paean To Cleigh by Micca
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:54 AM

Paean To Cleigh by Micca
(Tune: Because All Men Are Brothers)

Micca's Comments: Inspired by this thread (BS: For Catspaw and others: possums) and waiting for a sterilizer to do its job . . .

My brothers are all possums forever and a day
These little furry creatures have stole my heart away
I pine for Cleigh O'Possum tho' he is made of clay
And he's my joy unbroken until my dying day

As fur or ocarina my heart is turned to Cleigh
that possums is my soul mate and I with him must stay
and all the fame and glory Is his and his alone
And I would emulate him tho' my ass is unblown

He is a mudcat icon tho' small and shy and good
and even being with catspaw has not changed him to rude
his fame goes out before him we all would wish him well
and blessings on you barbara for casting this great spell

My brothers are all possums forever and a day
These little furry creatures have stole my heart away
I pine for Cleigh O'Possum, tho' he is made of clay
And he's my joy unbroken until my dying day

Michael A. Patterson (2000)

Subject: The Woes of the Gentlemen's Club by Amos & Leejay
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:32 AM

The Woes of the Gentlemen's Club by Amos and Lonesome EJ


Come all ye Playboy Playmates, wherever ye may be
I hope you'll pay attention, and listen unto me
For well ye know the shimmy, and the rassle and the blow
That keeps the money coming in, in the house in Chicago

Chorus:
Oh it's dark as a dungeon, and damp as the dew!
Where the dangers are many, and the gentlemen few!
For the guests are as randy as a billy goat's cub!
Oh, it's dark as a dungeon in the Gentlemen's Club!

When first I left my native farm, a tender miss alone
I had just a pair of thirty-eights, nothing else to call my own
Oh little did I understand the whacky rodeo
That I soon would be embroiled among
In the house in Chicago

Chorus

Come gather round Playmates and pay me your mind
Seek not your fortune in the Bump and the Grind
Disdain all the drunkards who pinch, grope and rub
It's dark as a dungeon in the Gentleman's Club.

Chorus

When first I did come there, a maiden so willing
I thought 'twas no harm, and I needed the shilling!
But the leering and whistles, they made my head whirl!
And I found that the Club was no place for a girl!

Chorus

They'll measure you up, and they'll calm all your fears
And they'll makeyou cavort in those cute bunny ears
And then the photographer offers his stub!
Bad cess to the owner of the Gentlemen's Club!

Chorus

Your smile quickly fades, and your spirits do fail
When first you go forth in the vile Cotton Tail
In the smoke and confusion and the noise of the band!
Then your cotton tail falls to a customer's hand!

Chorus

Oh the bodice it crimps you and gives you false airs
And the high heels are murder, when climbing the stairs
And the drunks are disgusting, the horny old tubs!
Bad cess and farewell to the Gentlemen's Club!

Chorus

I fear, as I age, and the days roll along
That someday my stomach will cover my thong
Then I'll sunbathe on the porch at the Old Playmate's Home
And pity those geezers still a-diggin' my bones!

Oh it's dark as a dungeon, and damp as the dew!
Where the dangers are many, and the gentlemen few!
For the guests are as randy as a billy goat's cub!
Oh, it's dark as a dungeon in the Gentlemen's Club!

Oh it's dark as a dungeon, and damp as the dew!
Where the dangers are many, and the gentlemen few!
For the guests are as randy as a billy goat's cub!
Oh, it's dark as a dungeon in the Gentlemen's Club!

Subject: Will That Be Broadcast Or Cable, Sir? by Praise
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:30 AM

Will That Be Broadcast Or Cable, Sir? by Praise

The latest trend in Gary, from what I understand,
Is to set their clocks to GMT, although in Indianne.
The reason for the time change, as they explained to me,
Is because that's the time that's always displayed upon Mudcat TV.

"Mudcat TV??!!" Yes, Mudcat TV.
How, you ask, could such a thing have ever come to be?
Well it was someone's inspiration (I can't recall which thread)
To make cartoons out of every word the 'Catter's have ever said.

It became a hot fundraiser, to keep the 'Cat afloat,
And Saturday mornings in Gary, the viewers cast their vote
For the best of the week's live entries, and you know who usually wins?
That nasty Cleigh O'Possum, though quite awful are his sins.

They said it could never happen--real money in this game?
But it finally was reckanized that the problem had been the name.
See, no one'll pay big bucks for folk, so it now is called "Who Wants
To Exchange Their Low-Paying Job in the Sweatshop for Coffee and Crosissants."

That's right! Phoak Music's philosophy and phreakiness and phun,
Are hidden inside a game show, now, and it's rated number one.
It's the only one with a host named Max, and a host who seldom appears,
(Though the host is reputed to work real hard, and sometimes strips his gears.)

The contestants are all those 'Catters who used to write the threads,
But now they are far too busy hiding winnings from the feds.
(The Goddess was off the show for a week just to meet with her CPA,
Cuz big money is taxed far too heavily here in North Amerikay.)

And the viewers are learning quickly how to make a Mudcat pun,
And soon they will be folkified, too, and join in all the fun.
That's when the plan goes global. Worked for "Millionaire", you know.
Didn't you know "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" is just a pilot Mudcat show?

Subject: Whispers In The Breeze by Amergin
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:28 AM

Whispers In The Breeze by Amergin
(originally posted in the thread "Homage To A Broken Man")

He sat within Kigali town
His heart was being torn
For his reports of coming genocide
His superiors they had scorned
With callous uncaring hearts
They ignored his pleas
While soft the voices came to him
A whisperin' in the breeze

'Twas hard the woeful sights to see
Of his men dying all around
But harder still to bear the shame
Of the UN chains around
And so he cried to an angry god
"Oh, please stop this mad disease"
As he heard the cries of his dying men
A whisperin' in the breeze

While sad he heard the phones go dead
The lines all soaked in blood
Children heads rolled down the street
Carried in a crimson flood
The machete blades gleamed with red
As his soul began to freeze
800,000 Tutsis cried
A whisperin' in the breeze

The UN bastards they turned their backs
Upon this sad heroic man
They said it was his lone fault
The massacres did begin
Eventually he cleared his name
But his mind was not appeased
800,000 Tutsis cry
A whisperin' in the breeze

He was found in a park in Hull
With a bottle in his hand
Drenched from his liquid meds
This once glorious man
He drinks the liquor everyday
His broken mind to appease
And to deaden the ghostly Tutsis cry
A whisperin' in the breeze

Subject: The While Drover by The Shambles, Wolfgang, Alice
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:27 AM

The While Drover by The Shambles, Wolfgang, Alice, steve t., and Barbara

With thanks to the (below contributors), all those who contributed to the thread and apologies to everyone else who may have been offended.   -- The Shambles.


Ivor Bean, a while, drover,
For 'Manny', a GOODYEAR,
An ice bend, hall harmony,
Honour 'Risky' Anne Bier.

Andy Now, armory, turning,
Wig holding, raised oar.
Hand Island, endeavour, whelp lay,
The while, drover, Gnome Moor.

Chorus Hand, tits, know, neigh, neither,
Know, neigh, neither, Gnome Moor.
Will Eye? Play, the while, drover, know, neither, Gnome Moor.

(The above from The Shambles)

Eye wind to a Yale house,
Thadie you stew free Gwent,
Annie tolled Alan Lady, my man, knee was splint,
I axed Hereford grayed it, Sheehan sir-ed mean, "Eh?" ,
Satchel cussed, um, a** yours! I can get Annie Day! ,

(The above from alice in montana)

I fulcrum I bucket tensor burns bride,
End a dandlings size append white Whidbey blight,
Chase a dive with key unwinds undervest,
Ander wards at icepick sherbert tony ingest ,

(The above from Barbara (blessings))

Then out of my pocket I took soverigns bright,
And spun them and waved them to gleam in the light,
The landlady frowned, snarled, now if I'm right,
This is Canada, not England, keep your soverigns, Good night! ,
...my parents...
...and if they lend me money as oftimes before,
then I'll not bollux this song, the while Drover, no more,

(The above from steve t.)

Here's the start of a German translation of the While, Drover:
Alf Biene, weil Troja
formen hieáe Ghia..

"It shows beautifully how all those names tend to get lost or culturally adapted in a translation which is what makes research on folksongs so difficult."

(The above from Wolfgang)

Subject: When A Packet Hits A Pocket by Author Unknown
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:26 AM

When A Packet Hits A Pocket by Author Unknown (submitted by Patrish)

Here's an easy game to play.
Here's an easy thing to say:

If a packet hits a pocket on a socket on a port,
And the bus is interrupted as a very last resort,
And the address of the memory makes your floppy disk abort,
Then the socket packet pocket has an error to report!

If your cursor finds a menu item followed by a dash,
And the double-clicking icon puts your window in the trash,
And your data is corrupted 'cause the index doesn't hash,
Then your situation's hopeless and your system's gonna crash!

You can't say this?
What a shame, Sir!
We'll find you.
Another game sir.

If the label on the cable on the table at your house,
Says the network is connected to the button on your mouse,
But your packets want to tunnel on another protocol,
That's repeatedly rejected by the printer down the hall,

And your screen is all distorted by the side effects of gauss.
So your icons in the window are as wavy as a souse,
Then you may as well reboot and go out with a bang,
'Cause as sure as I'm a poet, the sucker's gonna hang!

When the copy of your floppy's getting sloppy on the disk,
And the microcode instructions cause unnecessary risc,
Then you have to flash your memory and you'll want to RAM your ROM.
Quickly turn off the computer and be sure to tell your Mom.

Subject: The Towersey Ballad by Matthew Edwards
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:24 AM

The Towersey Ballad by Matthew Edwards
(Tune: Walsingham)

As you came from Towersey
That holy place of fame,
Met you with my Mudcat
By the way you came?

How should I your Mudcat know
From another one?
By his coloured shirt and badge
And his sandal shoon.

He is drunken dead, lady,
He is drunk and gone.
His head lies on the grass-green turf,
At his heels a Stone.

White his face as the mountain snow
Larded all with sweet Flowers,
Which bewept to the barn did go
And stayed all hours.

Subject: To Old Friend 'What-His-Name' by Kevin McGrath
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:22 AM

To Old Friend 'What-His-Name' by Kevin McGrath
(Tune: Deportees (Plane Crash at Los Gatos) by Woody Guthrie)

My Pee-See is crashed,
all my cookies are crumbled,
I'm trapped in this Web,
and my pride has been humbled
I think somebody's poisoned this watering hole.
And the Mudcat's been skinned,
it's been slaughtered and sold.

Chorus:
My head it is sore,
and my heart it needs healing
Let's all sing out once more
And let's sing it with feeling
Let's break down the walls,
And let's bring down the ceiling
For they say that the day
of the Mudcat is gone.

One by one we go down,
and the last was Mike Billo -
and we buried him under an old weeping willow,
and we carved on his tombstone this epitaph plain,
"Rest in Peace! Rise in Glory,
Old Friend What's-His-Name"

Chorus:
My head it is sore,
and my heart it needs healing
Let's all sing out once more
And let's sing it with feeling
Let's break down the walls,
And let's bring down the ceiling
For they say that the day
of the Mudcat is gone.

When I first came upon it
out there in the desert
I thought I had found an Oasis of Quiet
with the Mudcat in splendour,
and singing and shouting
But trouble soon came
and marauders and fighting.

Chorus:
My head it is sore,
and my heart it needs healing
Let's all sing out once more
And let's sing it with feeling
Let's break down the walls,
And let's bring down the ceiling
And rise to the skies
with the Mudcat reborn.
And let's rise to the skies,
with the Mudcat reborn.

© Kevin McGrath 2000

Subject: Turing Testing Time by Bradypus
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:21 AM

Turing Testing Time by Bradypus

Talk to me, baby
Convince me that you're cute
Prove to me you're human
And I will not compute

Turing test me baby
Let me prove I'm real
Chips and ram and circuit boards
Can't tell you how I feel

Joke with me, baby
Make me laugh and hoot
Humour comes with human
So how does this compute?

Twisting, turning, Turing
Megahertz and bytes
Calculating constantly
To put the world to rights

Sing to me, baby
Or play it on the lute
Melody and harmony
Will help me to compute

Stick it into overdrive
Send it through the bus
Computers trying to be human
Sure cause a lot of fuss

Cry to me, baby
Emotion is the root
Of what keeps us human
When we're trying to compute

Twisting, turning Turing
Testing far and near
Computers still can't fool us
At least, not this year!

Subject: There Once Was A Panda by Praise
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:19 AM

There Once Was A Panda by Praise

There once was a Panda, Miranda,
Who kept company on her verandah.
Her favorite caller
Was a former footballer--
I believe that his name was George Blanda.

On a neighboring street the koala
Had the urge to go see Walla Walla.
He packed his valise,
(Thought he'd stay with his niece),
But she'd died and had gone to Valhallah.

The koala complained to Miranda,
That her life by comparison was grander.
She replied with a coy,
"But you're my kinda boy!"
So to her veranda he wandah-ed.

He proceeded to evict the footballer,
And became Ms. Miranda's new follower.
She offered him lunch,
And he said, "Thanks a bunch,
Now I think of it, I'd rather eat in Austrah-lia.

The panda had planned on organza
For the wedding, the groom now half landed.
But she bid him adieu
(And I would have, wouldn't you?)
Thus he never shared panda orgasma.

Subject: That Dirty Little Coward! by Rick Fielding, Jeri,
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:18 AM

That Dirty Little Coward! by Rick Fielding, Jeri, Sinsull, and Áine

Jessie James was a man, who decided to retire.
And he knew the law would never leave him be.
So he faked his own death, and left the old wild weatht
and when people said "where's Jesse".........said "beat's me."

He put away his six guns, his cowboy hat and boots,
and opened up a wee cross-dresser's shop.
and the townsfolk all knew Jesse, as "the lady known as Toots"
and in his yard he grew a marihuana crop.

Chorus:
Oh Jesse was a wife, who went and changed his life,
but he couldn't have no children strong and brave.
He looked like Leslie Howard, and talked just like Noel Coward
and no one ever saw him feeling grave.

Jesse robbed from the poor and gave to the rich
He never did a friendly thing
And when his best friend died
He was right there by her side
And he lifted off her golden wedding ring

He was J. Frank D unless he really was Jesse
So they dug his corpse from its eternal bed
But someone dropped the ball and they really dug up Holland
And the only thing we know for sure is they're all dead

Chorus

Now Jessie's DNA was a match for ol' O J
Likewise the Mormon Tabernacle Choir
Did Elvis meet his end, where are Roswell's little men?
Of conspiracies I'll surely never tire.

Henry H. thought Grapevine a lovely place
To lay down at last upon his face,
He couldn't then know how he would harm,
The search for Jesse with his one arm.

Chorus

Subject: Tak' Me Ol' Galoshes by Katlaughing, Metchosin Mbo
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:16 AM

Tak' Me Ol' Galoshes by Katlaughing, Metchosin and Mbo

Tak' me ol' galoshes
Tak' me rubbers please
I've doon wi' claenin' fur-ahins arses
It's cam up tae me knee

I'd lik tae hang oot in me wellies
In a braw and heather scent
Sae a' the bonnie lassies ken
Tha I'm a gent

I'm doon wi' brooshin' wi'ers
I'm doon wi' brooshin' ass
The anly brooshin' e'er I'll dae
Is for haughie-mandie wi' the lassies in the grass

Gie tae me a crop an bunnet
I keen for mair holy groond
I nae wha' ye ken, kis I'm weirin' pink
I'm gane tae reenge and me dug

The gaitherts doot they deserve their look
The puir are nae sae shair
They dow wint tae the carriage profeesion
Bit will aye staun knee deep in manure!

A toast noo tae the Welly
Let their praises e'er be sung
For nathin' is sae unco' fine
When scoopin' up the dung!

The King o' a' the bootie race
Wha's match ha' ne'er been met
When ramblin' frae the Hielan' snaw
Or braes a' soggie wet!

Sae we'er your hie or your la' broo
In the coompny o' baists or snoots
This ane rale ye maun mind-o
Ye'll needs must want your boots!

Subject: Take Me Ol' Galoshes= Katlaughing, Metchosin Mbo
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:14 AM

Take Me Ol' Galoshes by Katlaughing, Metchosin and Mbo
Yune here: http://www.mudcat.org/alanofoz/Galosh2.mid


Confiscate my galoshes
Take my rubbers please
I've done with mucking horse arses
It's come up to my knees

I'd like to hang out in my wellies
In a fine and clover scent
So all the pretty lasses know
That I consider myself a gent

I'm done with currying withers
I'm done with currying ass
The only currying I now want to do
Is for favours with maids in the grass.

Hand me a crop and helmet
I long for much higher ground
I'm not what you think, just because I'm in Pink
I'm off to the hunt and the hound

The rich believe they're deserving their luck
The poor are not quite so sure
They may aspire to the carriage trade
But will still stand knee deep in manure.

A toast now to the Welly
Let their praises ever be sung
For nothing is so uncommonly fine
When scooping up the dung

The King of all the boot race
Who's match have never been met
When rambling from the Highland snow
Or the hills all soggy and wet!

So whether your high or your low-brow
In the company of farm animals or snoots
This one rule you should remember
You will always require you boots.

Subject: Sugar Dog Man by Praise
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:09 AM

Sugar Dog Man by Praise

Praise's Comments: Here's a new one from the Tavern....

This little puppy, she got her a wag
And a wiggle and a giggle and a tail for a flag!
She can always hear the step of the wunnaful Sugar Dog Man,
And the Sugar Dog Man he sees her, huh! As only he can.

Yes the Sugar Dog Man,
Now that's a treasure like wow!
Cuz a Sugar Dog Man, baby--
He ain't never fooled, nohow!

Corgi and Retriever, and a little corraggio sure,
Sugar Dog is faithful with a heart that is pure.
Sugar Dog and Sugar Dog Man, they go for a ride,
Beats keepin' up with that LONG Sugar Dog Man stride!

Yes the Sugar Dog Man,
That's a keeper you know!
Cuz a Sugar Dog Man, lil sugar dogs,
He always knows where to go!

Sugar Dogs is 'licious! An' Sugar Dogs is sweet.
A real Sugar Dog will lick you, yes, right offa your feet!
Sugar Dog Man don't use a leash, he don't tell you to stay,
Sugar Dog Man just offer a lap, cuz that's the bestest Sugar Dog way!

Yes the Sugar Dog Man,
He treat him his Sugar Dog all right!
Rather play with this old Sugar Dog
Than glare up a Sugar Dog fight.

Now Sugar Dogs is loving, an' Sugar Dogs is nice.
But Sugar Dogs ain't stupid-- no, love, Sugar Dogs is wise.
And Sugar Dogs can always tell just which way to go,
And Sugar Dog, if asked where she sleep, oh yeah, she always know!

See there's a special Sugar Dog Man,
Keeps the Sugar Dog Luhhv Bed.
An' Sugar Dog she surely come there
For to lay down her silky soft head.

So Sugar Dog Man, you may be, an' Sugar Dog, you may see.
Sugar Dog may curl up in your lap, for an hour or maybe three.
But Sugar Dog Man, or friend with a need, Sugar Dog boun' to fly.
Cuz Sugar Dog bidness is callin', an' God alone knows why!

But that ole special Sugar Dog Man--
What keeps the Sugar Dog Luhhv Bed--
He know Sugar Dog will surely come home
For to pillow her silky soft head.

~Susan Hinton~

Subject: The Submarine Kursk by IanC
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:08 AM

The Submarine Kursk by IanC
(Tune: Lady Franklin's Lament)

IanC's Comments: Roger wrote: "I am pessimistic that the belated rescue attempts will be in time, I fear that someone will be composing a ballad to a lost brave crew on the lines of the "Springhill Mine Disaster" soon." He's obviously been proved right, though what was going round in my mind was the Franklin expedition rather than Springhill. Quite uncharacteristically, whilst commuting to and from work, a song developed. This is the first and probably the only song I'll write, but I've posted it here for what it's worth. Perhaps somebody will make something useful out of it. The last two verses were originally alternative endings, but I've kept both.


One Sunday morning I lay half-awake
My thoughts confused by my sleepy state
When first I heard on the radio
The fate of The Kursk and all of her crew

Whilst cruising slowly neath the Barents Sea
A great explosion, by some mystery,
Opened a hole in the bow, and then,
She went to bottom there with all her men

Some said there was news, and some said none,
Some said that all their air, it had all gone
The Russian Navy couldn't get her free
For stormy weather and the rolling sea

Those seafaring peoples they called upon
Britain and Norway sent both crew and men
While day on day the time passed by
If any had lived, we fear they'll die

And when the Kursk was opened in the deep
Wives, parents, comrades they had cause to weep
The Kursk was flooded, all its men long drowned
Only dead bodies was all that they found

Ye bold submariners, as you pass by
Take ye the glass, but don't drink it dry
Think on their fate as their bodies lie
Trapped and drowning in the Barents Sea

And, yes, my memory it does give me pain
Thoughts of all the mariners the sea has slain
The ocean cruel no pity gives
Nor yet a tear in its eyes do live

© Ian Chandler, 23-08-00

Subject: Slug Songs (2) by Metchosin
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:06 AM

Slug Songs (2) by Metchosin

Mighty Hermaphroditey (To the Tune of the Beverly Hillbillies)

Oh I'm mighty Hermaphroditey
And I leave a slimey trail
And I don't know how to tell
My horny "head" from little "tail".
But it doesn't really matter
For each paramour I find,
Slip-sliding down the garden path,
Is also gender blind.

Well that's the way we romp and play
Yes, me and all my kin
So kindly spare the salt and beer
It's like to do us in
And remember in the garden,
When you see that silver line,
Our speeds not slow, as swingers go
Some think it's 69.

(And because I don't know when to quit….)

The Banana Slug Song (To the tune of Chiquita Banana)

I'm Hermita Banana and I've come to say
We slugs swing in a special way
Before el fresco dining on the doggy doo
We Pulmonata Lumbada the whole night through
You will find us in your garden
We have the telescoping eye-ayes
For Kamasu-ta-ra positions
We would surely win the prize
But Bananas like it cool not at the very, very tropical equator
So check your Organic produce, in your refrigerator.

Subject: Sing It Elsewhere by The Shambles
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:05 AM

Sing It Elsewhere by The Shambles

The Shambles' Comments: To be sung to the tune of Villikins and his Dinah - the Yetties, Threshing Machine (Sling it here, sling it there, and if your standing by, then your all get your share). (For information on the subject of this song, please go to this thread)


Sing it here
Sing it there
For the sake of the landlord
Please sing it elsewhere

Important to us, is to be able to sing
And thought by many, to be very fine thing
But councils officials, who can count up to three
Are making outlaws of you and of me

I bring you news of a terrible fact
Singing in pubs is a criminal act
At the moment you're safe if there's only two
But there's even worse news, in the Parliament due

The two in a bar rule is to be taken away
From now on, no one will be able to play
Folk songs from England or music from France
Without permission sought well in advance

They say you can't sing, "public safety I'm afraid"
It would seem to be fine, if your not paid?
Its only the Minister that quite understands
How the pub is unsafe, just when 'money changes hands'

And the lads can crowd in, watch their team on TV
Need no, permission or a safe capacity
Can shout all they wish and nothing is wrong
Only, needing permission to burst into song

Football supporters with money to burn
Can wake up the neighbours, with no apparent concern
But you and the 'missus', you'd better beware
When you quietly burst into 'Scarborough Fair'

I would like you all to write your MP
Its time that they listened to you and to me
I don't know about you but I think this a farce
To hear politicians speak out of their ....(dispatch box)

Sing it here
Sing it there
For the sake of the landlord
Please sing it elsewhere

Subject: The Ship from Old Russky (Mir) by mousethief
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:03 AM

The Ship from Old Russky (Mir) by mousethief
(Tune: The Girl from Ipanema)

Busted panels, hull is splintered
The Russian pride spaceship re-enters
And when it falls in a fiery ball, it goes shhhhhhhh!
Set more records than Lougainis
Made the Soviet Space program famous
But now it's falling into the ocean with a shhhhhhh!

Oh, it cost millions of rubles
Now it's space junk, and in troooble
If it hits where they think it will hit
That's cool, but if not, then oh shit!

Big and heavy, chunks of titanium
(At least we're glad there's no uranium)
When it falls, hope it misses Christchurch -- oh well. Shhhhhhh!

Kosmonauts' eyes fill with tears
Remembering all of those years
That it hung like a star in the sky
Now like glasnost, too soon it must die

Cos the president of the U.S.
Wants to forge ahead and screw us
With missile shields, the cold war is back. Oh well. Shhhhhh.

Copyright ©2001 Alex E. Riggle. All Rights Reserved.

Subject: RE: Aine's Mudcat Songbook PermaThread
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:01 AM

The Sex Life of Chinchillas by mousethief

We can talk about the Irish problem,
Earwigs, lice, and roaches
But there's one subject we will not breach
That never will encroach us

We can talk about sex, and God, and Goddess,
Birth and death and war,
But don't bring up Little Hawk's chinchilla
That's not what Mudcat is for!

(Chorus:)
The sex life of chinchillas
Is way off bounds, it's true!
Although it might've thrilled us
To learn how those things screw
The sex life of chinchillas
We mustn't talk about
Or Little Hawk might just get mad
And sit right down and pout

Now we can talk about gun control
And politics and drugs
And things that make your mother faint
Like gross brain-drilling bugs

But Little Hawk's Chinchilla
Is very shy and proper
We mustn't mention boy chinchillas
We have seen atop her

(repeat chorus)

© Alex Riggle 2000

Subject: Reload! by Author Unknown (submitted by Patrish)
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 09:00 AM

Reload! by Author Unknown (submitted by Patrish)
(Sung to the tune of "Rawhide!")


Loading, loading, loading,
Damn this Java coding,
Feeling of foreboding, Reload!
The Applet says it's running,
And that big gray block is stunning,
But the screen remains as blank as my mind

Netscape crash, Boot 'em up!
Net goes down, Dial back!
Logging on, Still off-line!
Reload!
Try it now, Still not up!
Netscape crashed, What, again?
Boot it up,
Log it in,
Reload!

Tighten, tweaking', smoothen,
They say the codes improvin',
So how come I'm still usin' "reload"?
I'm tired of all this waitin',
Just give me .gif animation,
This code is only good for wasting time,
The applet says it's running,
And gray block is quite stunning,
But the screen remains as blank as my mind,

(Midi solo)

beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep,
beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep,
beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep,
beep, beep,
beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep,
beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep,
beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep,
beep, beep,

Netscape crash, Boot 'em up!
Net goes down, Dial back!
Logging on, Still off-line!
Reload!
Try it now, Still not up!
Netscape crashed, What, again?
Boot it up,
Log it in,
Reload! Reload!

- Author Unknown

Subject: Post-Apocalyptic Frenzy Letdown by Jeri
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 08:58 AM

Post-Apocalyptic Frenzy Letdown by Jeri

Jeri's Comments: I murdered the poor defenseless Jock Stewart - the link to the tune's at the bottom of that page.

Now, my name is Jock Stewart
I'm paranoid man,
And a careful young fellow, I've been.

Don't be easy and free
When you're dealin' wi' me.
I'm a man you don't meet every day.

I have acres of land;
A bomb shelter grand;
I have always a gun aimed at you.

Now, I took out my gun,
With my dog I did hide,
In my shelter for chaos to come

I'm in a terrible mood
But I've got lots of food
And whiskey to drive care away

I watched the year change
And I thought it so strange
When everything worked the next day

I fell victim to fears
Now I'm in beans to my ears
And below ground I think I'll just stay.

Subject: The Panda Hall/Tait by Calach
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 08:57 AM

The Panda Hall/Tait by Calach
(Tune: The Roads And The Miles To Dundee)

Cold Winter was howling, and the Panda was growling,
He was wandering the streets cause the pubs had all closed.
Up came a wee lassie, and said "Mr. Panda,
Would you like to come with me, your nose is all frozed?"

She was dressed like a hooker, but still quite a looker,
But the high heels and lipstick, they gave it away.
But the Panda went with her, cause his body was shivering'
And he needed some food and a warm place to stay.

They walked back together, in the cold wintry weather.
She took him upstairs to her well-used address.
She asked what he wanted, as she cuddled the Panda
And he went up to bed with his little temptress.

Although now he was warm, he couldn't perform
He needed some food, he'd not eaten all day.
She cooked him some fried rice, bamboo shoots and bean sprouts,
Some nice lemon chicken and a chocolate soufflé

From the table they rose, and he took off her clothes,
Made love all night long, till the first break of dawn.
Then he got out of bed, and he said to the lassie,
"So long to you darling, I now must be gone."

Says she, "No my honey, you owe me some money.
It's required for my living; for a prostitute I be."
"But I am a Panda, and I don't pay for loving,
We'll solve our dispute with a dictionary."

They looked at the book, for the meaning of hooker,
"A girl paid for loving, who never conceives."
Her threw her the book and she read with amazement
All it said about Pandas was "Eats shoots and leaves."

Subject: Ode To Thread Creep by Harry
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 08:54 AM

Ode To Thread Creep by Harry

Read a story 'bout a week ago
Feelin lazy the day was slow
'Bout a fellow who was lookin for a song he heard
Couldn't really play it but he knew all the words

Said 'It's a song bout a girl who went to France
Didn't know where exactly but she took a chance,
Can anyone out there help me figure this out
I'm sure someone can I don't have any doubt

Chorus:
Thread Creep, Thread Creep, why can't the subject just keep?
If I ask a question to help knowledge expand
Can't you stay with the subject at hand?

Fellow wrote back 'I went to Paris before
Had a great time couldn't ask for more
Around the Arc de Triumph, lots of traffic congestion
Not really sure if I answered your question

Another one said, 'I was congested last week
Felt really bad, well I could hardly speak
Now I hate to complain, through my nasal congestion
But why ain't this thread about a musical question?!?

Chorus:
Thread Creep, Thread Creep why can't the subject just keep?
If I ask a question to help knowledge expand
Can't you stay with the subject at hand?

Subject: Ode To The Captain's Hearts by Kelida and Mbo
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 08:53 AM

Ode To The Captain's Hearts by Kelida and Mbo

We loved you for your heart of gold
We liked the other ones, too, if truth be told.
We'll miss your laughter and your smile,
We'll miss the way you went the extra mile.

We loved your sweet heart, it tasted nice,
Especially now, steamed and served over rice.
We'll miss you now that you're dead and gone,
But we thought it might be nice to write you this song.

We even loved your heart of stone
Although its weight sometimes made you groan
We'll miss your insults, all good-natured fun,
And we'll never forget you talent for puns.

We sometimes loved your cheatin' heart
Except when you beat us at cards
We'll miss the way you stacked the deck,
And we'll miss the way you cracked your neck.

We loved to see your heart or hearts
With all it's icky slimy parts
Ventricles and coronaries
The color blood of boysenberries.

Subject: My First Love by Amergin
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:27 AM

My First Love by Amergin

As I went in the pub one day
I heard the fiddles playing
The drums were beating
And the singer braying
I walked up to the bar
And sat upon the stool
Looking at the counter top
My mouth began to drool

Upon the bar she sat before me
Bubbling with her female wiles
I sat staring in wonderment
As she flashed me with her smiles
Her light brown hair flowed down
Caressing the curves of her breasts
I laughed and grinned at the blood
Forcing the thumping in my chest

Chorus:
Oh, she looked so sweet, her body like glass
Never will I forget the taste of this dark lass

Her black limbs stretched out
Before me shining with dew
She leaned towards me laughing
And so my faint hopes grew
She bent down to me mouth gaping
Tongue flickering as we kissed
She tasted thick and bitter
I stared at her in the smoky mist

We kissed again and yet again
Each time hotter and longer
Her spit filling me with warmth
Til my love could grow no stronger
I whisper softly into her hair
As it swirls down her smooth throat
She sighs and sizzles in quiet lust
At each love song I gently quote

(Chorus)

My thoughts fade off into smoke
As I drink in her loving milk
It flows down heating my gullet
Coating my insides with its silk
I look up to watch the band
Feeling the beat of the song
I drift my eyes back to the bar
To find that she has gone

Final Chorus:
Six years have passed and gone since that blissful night
I still think of my first love and my cheeks shining bright

Subject: My Bodhrán Is Too Tight by Troll
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:25 AM

My Bodhrán Is Too Tight by Troll

My bodhrán is too tight.
My bodhrán is too tight.
I sweat and toil,
With grease and oil,
and still the tones not right.

My bodhrán is too tight.
My bodhrán is too tight.
I've tried neetsfoot,
And oily soot,
My hands they look a fright.
It's such a bummer.

I've tried each thing that anyone's suggested.
And for a drummer,
It's hard to play a drum that sounds congested.
And I've protested.
My bodhrán is too tight.
My bodhrán is too tight.

Since I can't play
It any way.
I'll do it just for spite!
My bodhrán is too tight.
My bodhrán is too tight.
The fiddler's mad.
That's too damn bad!
I'm gonna play all night!

Subject: Mudcat's Y2K For What It's Worth by Dave (the anci
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:24 AM

Mudcat's Y2K For What It's Worth by Dave (the ancient mariner)


Dave's Comments: Ladies and Gentlemen, for your edification and delight. A short song written on the spur of the Y2K moment. I present . . . (with suitable and profuse apologies to Buffalo Springfield):


There's something happening here
What it is ain't exactly clear
There's Bill Gates with a sign over there
Telling me I got to prepare

I think it's time we stop,
Children what's that sound
Y2K is coming around

There's credit lines being withdrawn
MacIntosh is right if Microsoft is wrong
Young people going online
Getting so much Internet before it's time

I think it's time we stop,
Hey what's that sound
Microsoft maybe going down

What a field-day without heat
Millions shivering in the street
Carrying MacIntosh and Microsoft signs
Saying I'll gladly pay for more Millennium time

It's time we stop,
Hey what's that sound
The Internet may be going down

Paranoia strikes deep
Into your threads it will creep
It starts when you're always online
You come offline, Y2K comes and takes it away

We better stop,
Hey what's that sound
Microsoft may be going down
Stop hey what's that sound
Everybody Internet is going down
Stop now, what's that sound
Traffic lights will be falling down
Stop children what's that sound
Bugger all happened, I'm going downtown

Subject: The Mudcat Tavern Anthem by Susan A-R, Bert, Áine,
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:23 AM

The Mudcat Tavern Anthem by Susan A-R, Bert, Áine, Mían, and Alice

Áine's Comments: You just had to be there -- Don't Dream It! BE IT!

S'paw's at the door again,
Yeah, THAT door
Cleigh's cleaned the shrimp up
and he's whistling for more
Roger's smashing tiples
(What's a hammer for??)
And it's Thursday at the Mudcat Tavern

Mick's in the kitchen
Cooking something great
MMario's looking baffled
At the brownies he just ate
THE FAIR ONE's in the jello pit
(Mick starts to salivate)
And it's Friday in the Mudcat Tavern

The home computer users
Are the only ones that's here,
And all the worker lurkers
Are home, crying in their beer
But they'll be back the first thing Monday
Don't you ever fear,
And it's Saturday in The Mudcat Tavern

Áine's stirring up her chili
And as the cauldron boils,
She casts a spell on HFA
For spoiling Max's toils
She smells and tastes and cackles
(Mick salivates again)
And it's Saturday in The Mudcat Tavern

Tippling the Black Vile Stuff
As east coast churchbells chime
Or getting hammered in the buff
On Wyo' Mountain Time
It looks like Sunday, sure enuf',
But while you read this rhyme
It's Twilight Zone in the Mudcat Tavern.

The worker lurkers join the club
And catch up on the threads.
They're giggling at what's in the tub
They're poppin' Neil Young meds.
They're looking o'er their shoulder now
The boss is what they dread,
And it's Monday at the Mudcat Tavern.

S'paw comes in a bitchin
At the door, the pets, the food
(Yeaah, the yacks and the flamingos
have been getting rather rude)
But the man who blows a possum
has no right to be a prude
And it's Tuesday in the Mudcat Tavern.

There's oysters in abundance
And there's even spuds and crepes.
I made myself a tango dress
From old green velvet drapes.
I've got a rose between my teeth,
And Mario's peeling grapes,
Oh, it's Wednesday at the Mudcat Tavern!

Subject: Modern Magic by MMario
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:21 AM

Modern Magic by MMario
(To the tune: Who Is At My Window Weeping)

Who is in the breakroom weeping
Weeping there, so bitterly
'Tis I, 'Tis I, the waitress Cindy
Tonight's the Prom, and I've not the fee

Cindy, go and ask the bar-maid
If she's a gown to lend to thee
If it's not right, we'll find another
And to the Prom, tonight go ye

Cindy went and asked the bar-maid
the gown it fit her to a tee
her hair was combed, and quickly styled
To the Prom, will go our fair Cindy

Cindy, Go, and call your boyfriend
The cook a tux to loan has he
But do it now, and do it quickly
or else it's late, that you shall be

Cindy went and called her boyfriend
The tux it fit him properly
With cummerbund and velvet lapels
To the Prom he goes, with the fair Cindy

The boss then called his brother Vinnie
who owed to him, a favour or three
"Bring the limo round, and do it promptly
To the Prom, you're driving our Cindy"

From wallet, purse, and pocket deeply
Friend and patron then drew free
Payment for the door and dinner
And dancing for the Fair Cindy

A magic night, for two young lovers
Made not with wand, or cast of spell
But magic wrought by hearts so tender
And friends that loved their Cindy well

Subject: Missin' The Mudcat Blues by BSeed
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:19 AM

Missin' The Mudcat Blues by BSeed

bSeed's Comments: Last year in October we had a series of weekends when the threads wouldn't open: Max left town and everything went to hell in his absence. Three weeks in a row I wrote songs about what it was like to be without the threads.

I got the blues 'cause the Mudcat's gone and crashed again;
My God it hurts, the Mudcat's crashed again--
Good golly Miss Molly, when will them crashes end?

I gotta have the 'cat, 'cause I got a lotta stuff to say;
Oh, I need them threads 'cause I got so much to say.
But Benjamin and Barry Finn and all the threads have gone away.

I need Barbara and Art, I need Alison and Mick,
With only silence from the swamps--I know I'm gettin' sick,
Tim and Chet and Northfolk, you're gone but what can I do?
I'd ask Joe Offer, but dammit, he's gone, too.

With no Harpgirl and no Raven I'm stuck all alone in lonesome hell;
Bill's in Alabama, and there's no Wolfgang here in
hell,
Roger, Pete, and Ewan, Mike and Murray, they're all gone as well.

There's no word out of Brisbane, and Vancouver's quiet, too;
There's no word out of Brisbane, and Vancouver's quiet, too.
You gotta get me back on line, Max, 'cause what else can I do?

I got the blues 'cause the Mudcat's gone and crashed again;
My God it hurts, the Mudcat's crashed again--
Good golly Miss Molly, when will them crashes end?

c. Charles Kratz (12/0ct/98)

Subject: The Memory Banks of Mudcat by Catspaw49
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:18 AM

The Memory Banks of Mudcat by Catspaw49

(Tune: "Banks of the Ohio" )

Took my computer, Back to the store
Like I'd done, Many times before
My CPU, Went up in smoke
Loading a thread, Named "What is Folk."

Only say, It will be fine.
And I can soon, Go back online.
I'm 'Cattaddicted, Its plainly seen
Now I can but stare, At this blank screen.

I scan the threads, Ten times a day.
So many have, So much to say.
There's lots of songs, Lyrics in full
Lots of talk, And lots of bull.

Bruce O. knows songs, From times long past
Spaw gives insults, Blows a possum's ass.
Peter T.'s, Thought for the day
Is that the heron, Will go away.

Rick picks, Mick flirts, El Swanno can dive.
And in Kat's garden, The faeries thrive.
Mario sings, Leej talks of Blake
And the Skiffler is, A total flake.

In the shower, Alice sings.
Pansy Rue, Does "other" things.
The Fair One fends, Off Micks' advance.
Alan of Oz, Wears her underpants.

Art, Joe, and Seed, Help smooth the ruts.
When gargoyle goes, Completely nuts.
The Paton's are, Like a Mom and Dad
Barbara gives her blessings, even when we're bad.

Mudcat radio, On Wednesday night
Will it crash? Well it just might.
Max must work hard, We all admit
'Cause Ol' Bert can't, Remember shit.

Computer's repaired! Pick it up at six.
Then I can get, My Mudcat fix.
Lord may it never, Go away.
Great friends all, Mudcat Cafe.

Subject: The Mbo Bop by Amos, Metchosin and Áine
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:16 AM

The Mbo Bop by Amos, Metchosin and Áine
(Tune: The Monster Mash)

Chords: C~~~Am~~~~~F~~~~~~~~G

They were gathered at the Mudcat, BanjoBonnie, Caitrin, Pop
When the music started thumpin, and they started in to bop!
WHat was it they were doing? That crazy dance so free!!??
Well they were doing the Mbo Bop, c'mon and do it just like me!!

Chorus:
They did the bop!!
It was the Mbo Bop
They did the bop! It was a folkies hop!
They did the bop!
It was the MBO Bop!
They did the bop!
They never want to stop!

The place was really rockin' when the laughing kat strolled in,
She jumped up on the table, yelled 'let the Mbo Bop begin!'
Then Amos lit the candle and the flaming mousse ran by
That's when the crowd began to flee, Mbo bopping on the fly!

Chorus

Joe Offer came a cruisin' in, his head upon a stick
And the GUEST who never shall be named, came up to get a lick
That's when the riot started and chocolate mousse began to spurt
Spaw cried, "Don't touch it, suckah, or you're likely to get hurt!"

Chorus

Big Mick's Irish temper was beginning to flare
Shambles and Bugsy his sentiments did share
Seems their frustrations they could not conceal
For they wanted to know if the rude guests were real

Chorus

Gargoyle from the crypt began to arise
With a flamin' group The Kat Kicker Five
Threw back the lid and shook his mouse,
"Words of care and comfort? Not in my House!

Chorus

Witty banter and thread creep is the specialty
Lyrics and tunes? They dish it out for free!
Lemons into lemonade, when things go wrong,
Down at the Mudcat they turn it into song!

Chorus

Lil' Mbo was caterwhalin' that his poem could not be heard
For the crowd was Mbo Boppin' to Fats Waller and The Bird
Max picked up his new dobro, played a chord, began to sing,
"If you guys don't settle down now, I'll shut off the whole damn thing!"

Chorus

Well, they twisted and murmured, but began to settle down
For the 'Cats all know to listen when the Max is in the town
Mbo hisself took notice, said his party piece so neat
And they hoisted him on high and Mbo Bopped into the street!

Chorus

So if chillblains and the fever have begun to get you down
And you're ready to decapitate the nearest kid around!
C'mon down to Mudcat heaven, just dispense with all the fuss,
Where it's a treat to beat your feet and do
The Mbo Bop with us!

Chorus:
They did the bop!!
It was the Mbo Bop
They did the bop!
It was a folkies hop!
They did the bop!
It was the MBO Bop!
They did the bop!
They never want to stop!
They did the Bop!

Subject: May Your Sword Never Grow Rusty by Malveka
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:14 AM

May Your Sword Never Grow Rusty by Malveka
(Being A Toast to the Endangered Bachelor) -

May your sword never grow rusty
May your beard never grow thin
Hark now the wisdom of sages
You've got to be up to be in!

Chorus:
Come good fellow sit by me
Take your pick of all good ale
Lend me thine ear on your joining's eve
And I'll toast thee without fail
I say!
I'll toast thee without fail!

May your sword never grow rusty
May life's blessings flow from the spout
Just recall that the blessing of children
May be yours if you don't pull out

Chorus

May your sword never grow rusty
Won't you heed now the words of this clown
Remember that after you're married
'Tis only computers that go down

Chorus

May your sword never grow rusty
May your frame always be stout
Be sure that you know all the exits
When she gets the frying pan out

Chorus

May your sword never grow rusty
May your love life never go bust
But on those days when love isn't working
Don't forget you've always got lust

Chorus

May your sword never grow rusty
May you know that it often is quipped
That vows will truly be tested
When she tells you to get yourself snipped

Chorus

May your sword never grow rusty
May you find yourself aging with grace
But if on two legs you find yourself limping
Oysters help keep your rod in the race

Chorus

May your sword never grow rusty
But if perchance you find that it should
Forget not the Falls of Niagra
Though Viagra, they say, works as good

Chorus

May your sword never grow rusty
Your delights each day renew
And find as each year passes
Your love has grown anew

Chorus

Subject: The Manchester Mudcat Ramble by Matthew Edwards
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:12 AM

The Manchester Mudcat Ramble by Matthew Edwards
(with profound apologies to Ewan MacColl)

The White Lion on Friday will sure be a high day,
When 'Cats sing and play music as well.
And if you are lucky, then down at the Ducie,
There'll be many fine stories to tell.
Then its Pauline's in Failsworth on Sunday,
For the ones who can get out of bed;
But I'll be trying to part with my curry,
And feeling I'd rather be dead.

Chorus:
I'm a Mudcat, I'm a Mudcat, down Machester way,
I get all my pleasure the musical way.
I may be a wageslave on Monday,
But I am a singer on Sunday.

Subject: The Lovely Ship The Mudcat by Kelida
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:11 AM

The Lovely Ship The Mudcat by Kelida
(Tune: "The Bonny Ship the Diamond" minus 1 verse)

(Spoken: Space, the final frontier, where no Mudcat has ventured before. . .until now.)

Sung:
Oh the Mudcat is a ship, my friends, For the nebula she's bound
And the bay it is all covered, with musicians all around
Captain Trid, he gives the order, to shift into warp speed
To a planet where the natives, they don't have a mouth to feed.

Chorus:
So, let's gear up, my friends,
Let your voices sing out
As the lovely ship the Mudcat,
Goes to space to travel about.

Around the Mudcat Tavern, the musicians gather 'round
With their instruments close by them, and their voices lifting loud
Don't you fret, you'll get your turn, you won't get left alone,
After this, come one and all, and sing songs of your own.

Here's health to the Albert Hansell, likewise the katlaughing
Here's health to the wonderful Mbo, and the Mudcat, ship of fame;
We'll wear our space suits now, and our Mudcat tee-shirts, too,
When we return from space, my friends, we'll have many songs anew.

© Bridget McKinney (2000)

Subject: Love Bytes by Bradypus
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:08 AM

Love Bytes by Bradypus

Bradypus' Comments: There was a letter to the editor in today's (10-May-00) Daily Telegraph: "SIR - The episode of the "love bug" virus proves once again the truth of the old saying that the e-mail of the species is more deadly than the mail." After McGrath's contribution to Song Challenge 26, I couldn't resist ... (posted in this thread).

For up to date communication the computer is the king
And to get your message over e-mail seems to be the thing
But one fact is oft neglected, and it makes our systems fail
For the e-mail of the species is more deadly than the mail

For the junk we get by snail mail simply lands upon the mat
And it's dormant and it's lifeless as it lies there rather flat
But the junk we get by e-mail seems to tell a different tale
For the e-mail of the species is more deadly than the mail

First the message says 'I love you', then you find that you're infected
And you wish you'd taken measures for to keep yourself protected
As in life, so with computers, and it makes you quake and quail
For the e-mail of the species is more deadly than the mail

It infects your words and pictures, your jpeg and mp3
And makes you wish you'd never seen extension vbe
Your address book is subverted, all your friends will weep and wail
For the e-mail of the species is more deadly than the mail

We can hardly do without it, though we know the risks it brings
For it's faster and it's slicker, like so many e-type things
But whene'er it's out of kilter it can turn the strongest pale
For the e-mail of the species is more deadly than the mail.

Subject: Lament Of A Guardsman by Amergin
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:07 AM

Lament Of A Guardsman by Amergin
(Tune: Long Black Veil)

Amergin's Comments: Just wrote this a few minutes ago. P.S. I wasn't there either, was only born 4 years later. But that doesn't stop me from feeling the pain, the anger, the sorrow for those that were shot down and for those that did the shooting. Let us not forget. Blessed be. My tribute to Kent State:

Thirty years ago on the Fourth of May
Four students died that warm spring day
The people who ran they all agreed
The man with the gun looked a lot like me

Now I walk these halls water in my eyes
I still hear out night all the mournful cries
Nobody sees all the dropping tears
Nobody wants to hear

The protest was hot, and tensions were high
When a shot rang out, I saw the first one die
I said not a word, but fired into the crowd
The stains on my hands, echo oh so loud

We were a-firing, and tossing the tear gas bombs
While they went running across the common lawns
And when the smoke had cleared, it was painful to hear
The cries of the dying and the wounded so near

I was just a boy and little did I know
That on that fateful spring day, I lost my soul
Still I walk these halls, water in my eyes
I still hear at night all the mournful cries

Nobody sees all the dropping tears
Nobody wants to hear

Subject: I Think We're Not Alone Now by mousethief
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 07:00 AM

I Think We're Not Alone Now by mousethief
(Tune: I Think We're Alone Now)

I think we're not alone now
There does seem to be some aliens arou-hound
I think we're not alone now
The whirring of their ships is the only sou-hound

Humans, behave
That's what they say when they release us
And watch what you say
They won't believe you
And so we're telling everybody we can
We were in the aliens' hands
Calling the Art Bell show late in the night
And then we're stuck on hold forever
Then we're on the air -- all right! -- and then we say:

I think we're not alone now...

© 2001 Alex Riggle. All Rights Reserved.

Subject: The Famous Yacht Alinghi by Schantieman
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 05:31 AM

The Famous Yacht Alinghi by Schantieman

(Tune: Dunno what it's called. Same as (stolen from) Miles Wootton's 'Great Fish Finger Disaster')

Schantieman's Comments: First draft. Needs some honing.

Oh come all you brave young yachtsmen, who sail the stormy deep
I'll tell to you a secret which you must forever keep,
Concerning that bold sail-i-or, Russell Coutts it is his name
And he sailed the yacht Alinghi; from Switzerland it came.

With Jochen Schümann by his side in Auckland he set sail
All for to win America's cup, he knew he must not fail.
The Gnomes of Zurich backed them, and they pleaded on their knees:
Oh bring us back a box of holes for Emmenthaler cheese!

In Schnackenburg, the Kiwi boat, they had a great tactician
His sails and legal knowledge they did help them on their mission
Th'Alinghi overcame them all, it nearly drove them barmy
Coz they all had knives they'd gotten from the world-renowned Swiss Army.

With army knives about their waists on Kevlar lanyards worn
They set about the Kiwi boat as to the manner born
Removing of her fish-scales and the horses' hooves as well
With their magnifying glasses they did cause her hul9l to swell.

Well the series it was over and the Kiwis had been beaten.
For far too much Swiss choc-o-late by them, it had been eaten
The famous yacht Alinghi, was first into the dock
But they found they'd been and timed the race with a crooked cuckoo clock!

Copyright © Steve Freedman December 2002

Subject: Is It Only In The Stories Miracles Happen by Great
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 05:27 AM

Is It Only In The Stories Miracles Happen by GreatGoo


Is it only in the stories miracles happen
As the magic of the evening comes to play
Are the happy endings only
In our hearts, and so it seems
Or can we bring our fondest dreams into the day

A young woman found herself
At a crossroads in her life
Torn apart by a vanishing hope
And another passing day
With no choices left to pick from
She turned back to what she must
Hid her tears inside her heart
And went along her way

Is it only in the stories miracles happen
As the magic of the evening comes to play
Are the happy endings only
In our hearts, and so it seems
Or can we bring our fondest dreams into the day

Others too have been here
Where the rough edge makes you cry
Where our fantasy's are tattered
As the world goes swiftly by
But we can change the ending
Out of kindness, out of love
And mend a shattered dream
In a very simple way

Is it only in the stories miracles happen
As the magic of the evening comes to play
Are the happy endings only
In our hearts, and so it seems
Or can we bring our fondest dreams into the day

It's the little bits that each of us
Can add that make the whole
The little things we do
To push the hurt away
As each gives to the dream
We regain what we have lost
And prove
It doesn't have to end that way

Is it only in the stories miracles happen
As the magic of the evening comes to play
Are the happy endings only
In our hearts, and so it seems
Or can we bring our fondest dreams into the day

Subject: I Wanna Go Down by Amergin
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 05:25 AM

I Wanna Go Down by Amergin

I wanna go down to Jackson, Mississippi
I wanna go down, to protest the war
I wanna go down to Jackson, Mississippi
To hear, to hear the students roar

I wanna go down to the university
I wanna go down just to learn
I wanna go down to the university
To watch, to watch the fires burn

I wanna walk down around the school
I wanna walk down across the lots
I wanna walk down around the school
To feel, to feel the pistol shots

I wanna run down into the open door
I wanna run down into the women's dorm
I wanna run down into the open door
To smell, to smell the coming storm

I wanna go back into our tragic past
I wanna go back, back those thirty years
I wanna go back into our tragic past
To taste, to taste the stinging tears

I don't want this to ever happen again
We don't need to be caught within their net
This tragedy will never happen again
Unless, unless, unless we all forget

I wanna go down to Jackson, Mississippi
I wanna go down, to protest the war
I wanna go down to Jackson, Mississippi
To hear, to hear the students roar

Subject: How Many Folkies Does It Take To Change A Lightbul
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 05:21 AM

How Many Folkies Does It Take To Change A Lightbulb? by Amos
(Tune: Blowin' In The Wind)

Tell me how many folkies need to change a light bulb
Before the light bulb stays changed?
An' how many Mudcats need to add to the list
Before they get home on the range?
And how many answers does one man have to see
Before he can see that they're strange?

The answer, old bloke,
Is just a Mudcat joke!
The answer is just a Mudcat joke.

Yes, an' how many threads must a man run down
Before the Kat makes him grin
AN' how many Possum whistles must ol' SPaw sell
Before possum whistles get him?
An' how many times mus' Mbo be pronounced
Before it begins to sink in?

The answer, old bloke
Is jes' a Mudcat joke!
The answer is just a Mudcat joke!

(Rasp, rasp wheeze wheeze, raw raw)
Kaching kaching G Am Bm D ad infinitum

Subject: Golden Colorado by tradsteve
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 05:19 AM

Golden Colorado by tradsteve
Tune:   I Ain't Got No Home

We've dug ourselves a hole here in Golden Colorado
We've all this water that has nowhere to go
We let our fears get the best, now we've water to our chest
We've dug ourselves a hole in Golden Colorado

Take two or three baths a day and scrub behind your ears
Nothing left for you to do but wallow in your fears.
New Years was not that bad so shouldn't we all be so glad?
Now drink a glass and water the grass before it all goes bad.

Stockpiled spam can be a salty treat
Might as well wash it down with water while you eat.
Fill your pool nice and deep and hope the chlorine keeps
Have a heart and do your part in Golden Colorado

The water is a-ready and a-itchin' to be used
Waste it while it's there and ready to be abused
Use your toilet paper rolls and flush those toilet bowls
Flush us out of our hole in Golden Colorado

Two million gallons is an awful lot
But we thought by Y2K the computers would be shot
So waste the water while you can and lend a helping hand
Drink us out of our hole in Golden Colorado!

Subject: Gastronomic Passions by Amos
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 05:18 AM

Gastronomic Passions by Amos

Annie's scones and Caitrin's cookies
They could satiate a Wookie
They're the sweetest treats what am!
With Kahlua, cream and jam!

Wrap your tongue around this fashion!
And you'll know true Gaelic passion!
They're the best things ever tasted!
Any more than a mouthful's wasted!

Now, dear Annie, don't be modest
You're our own, A Gaelic goddess!
And its you we're dreaming of
When we sing of Irish love

And sweet Caitrin, so retirin'
Mbo finds you so inspiring!
Nothing shakes a folkie's bones
Like Caitrin's cookies and Annie's scones!

Subject: Fred Dyer's Bees by Amos
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 05:16 AM

Fred Dyer's Bees by Amos
(Tune: The Big Rock Candy Mountain)

In a far off lane, lined with sugar cane
Where the honeybees go walkin'
In a big white van, came a science-man,
All worked up to do some stalking
As he drove along, he hummed a song
And thought of hives and honey!
For he'd had a dream, and dreamt up a scheme
That would earn him lotsa money!

Chorus: Ohhhhhhh the buzzing of the Queen on the radar screen!
The flapping of transistors!
And the glue that binds on the bee's beehinds
Of the drones and all their sisters!

Now this science lug was in love with bugs
And was handy with the solder!
He drummed up a grant, by composing cant
'Bout the queen bee, and her daughters
There's no way to know how he flung the snow
In his guileful composition
But it sure was hot, cuz the fellow got
A rich research position!

Chorus

So he bought himself a six-foot shelf
Of scopes and lab things fancy
And equipped with these, he went hunting bees
With a postgrad aide named Nancy.
They would grab the drones from their waxy homes
As they left for work, Fred gottem!
With epoxy glue and a diode or two
They would wire up their bottoms!

Chorus

Now its hard to tell what this science swell
Is learning from these workers!
Cuz him and Nan they sit back in the van
Watching 'scopes and eating burgers.
Yelling "North!" and "whoa!" on the radio
As their labmates sweat for hours
Running zig zag trails through the hills and dales
While the bees make calls on flowers!

Chorus

Now this fella Fred has got quite the head
For acquiring research dollars
And he'll run this show where the honeybees grow
'Til someone tips off the scholars
Then he'll grab a flight, in the dark of night
And a new girl, named Amanda
And theyll make a try, tracking tsetse flies
For the gummint of Rwanda!

Ohh, the buzzing of the Queen on the radar screen
The flapping of transistors!
And the glue that binds to the bees beehinds
On the queen and all her sisters!

Subject: Farewell… by Amergin
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 05:14 AM

Farewell… by Amergin
(Tune: Hobo's Lullaby)

Farewell, my weary steel mill
Let your foundries slowly die;
The gates are closing behind me
As I wipe tears in my eyes.

PGE jacked their rates up;
EPA decreased the water flow.
There're forest fires in Idaho
All the reasons they need to know.

Workers at Kaiser are still striking
For jobs that are barely even there;
The corporations are now laughing
At the worried faces everywhere.

Now the smoke is no longer rising
The emptiness is bearing down;
The mill is in a blanket of darkness
As the car slowly leaves the town….

Subject: These Lyrics Are Explicit by Bradypus
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 05:12 AM

These Lyrics Are Explicit by Bradypus

These lyrics are explicit.
They mean just what they say.
There is have no hidden baggage
They're plain and clear as day

They don't avoid the subject
They use four-letter words
They are not mean, or mealy-mouthed
For that would be absurd

To post explicit lyrics
Can seem somehow to vex
But these lyrics are explicit
And explicitly not about sex!

Subject: Empty Nester's Blues by Amos
From: bradfordian
Date: 12 Oct 16 - 05:10 AM

Empty Nester's Blues by Amos
(Originally posted on this thread)

Well, I woke up this morning, I did not feel my best.
Well, I woke up this morning, did not feel at my best.
My offspring all left me, just a big ole empty nest!

I went down to the kitchen, not a dish was out of place
I went down to the kitchen, nothin was out of place.
You wouldn't have believed the look upon my face!

Went down the hall, there were no clothes on the floor!
I went down the hall, saw no clothes on the floor!
I said to myself, I don't think I can take much more!

Over in the bedroom, that bed was made up tight!
Well I looked in the bedroom, that bed was made up tight!
Everything was in order, but something sure wasn't right!

Well I'm rattling around here like an old die in a cup
I'm just rattling around like a gambler's lucky cup!
Ain't nobody screaming, an' nobody cuttin' up!

You can tell yo' sistah, you can tell yo' brother too.
You can tell yo' sister, an' tell your brother too.
Ya bettah call up yo' Mama, she's getting them Empty Nest blues!!