Lyr Add: MaJoC's ditties

Subject: Lyr Add: MaJoC's ditties
From: GUEST,MaJoC the Filk
Date: 24 Jan 22 - 07:32 AM

As promised last week in the Singaround: a big boy made me write this, and ran away ....

God Rest Ye Sober

God rest ye sober, underlings
  let nothing you dismay
You've only queued for Covid jabs
  since this time yesterday
And as wel tell you "work from home"
  in Number Ten we'll play ---

Good tidings of comfort and joy (for the posh boys)
Good tidings of comfort and joy.

The boyos from the Bullingdon
  are playing Hunt The Grue
They're bred to be incapable
  of telling false from true
Come PMQs we'll find them
  barricaded in the loo ---

Good tidings of comfort and joy (little lost boys)
Good tidings of comfort any joy.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: MaJoC's ditties
From: GerryM
Date: 25 Jan 22 - 03:52 AM

I'm sure it's a great song ... I'd be even surer, if I knew the significance of Bullingdon, or what The Grue is, or who the PMQs are. Can we have a glossary, please?

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: MaJoC's ditties
From: GUEST,MaJoC the Filk
Date: 25 Jan 22 - 10:29 AM

Apologies: above typed in in an excessive hurry, and the glossary fell out.

* Bullingdon Club: a bunch of posh Oxford ne'er-do-wells who went around causing havoc to victims' college rooms, then paying for the damage. Past memberships include two recent English Prime Ministers.

* The Grue: a monster which appears in certain text-based computer games, typically in deadly phrases like "A grue eats you".

* PMQs: Prime Minister's Question time in the English Parliament (a modern form of bear bating).

Hope that helps.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: MaJoC's ditties
From: GUEST,Alfred the Filk
Date: 13 Feb 22 - 06:24 PM

As perpetrated premiered on the Singaround last Monday:

Shelf Raiders in the Store

Tune: Ghost Riders in the Sky

'Twas graveyard shift in Sainsbury's one dark and stormy night
The weary staff were busy stacking shelves with all their might
When all at once I heard a scream, and when I turned I saw
A crowd of ghostly pensioners .... into the shop did pour:

Flippin'-L A
Flippin'-L O
Shelf raiders in the store.

Their walking frames were made of rusting steel and peeling chrome
Their trolley wheels did ceaselessly assert their right to roam
But they pressed grimly onward, their faces hard and mean
As they passed toilet paper shelves .... those shelves were all stripped clean:

Flippin'-L A
Flippin'-L O
Shelf raiders in the store.

I found that I had panicked, grabbing ev'ry tin I could
A wrinkled hand pressed down on mine, their chief before me stood
His face was oddly youthful, but wizened by despair
With pity in his voice he said .... Young man do not go there ---

Once you start panic-buying you will share our gruesome fate
The only food we eat is six months past its use-by date
So don't break mouldy bread with us, or with us you will be
Condemned to hunting toilet rolls .... for all eternity:

Flippin'-L A
Flippin'-L O
Shelf raiders in the store (once more for luck) ---

Flippin'-L A
Flippin'-L O
Shelf raiders in the store.

This parody Copyright © Martin J Carter 2022

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: MaJoC's ditties
From: GUEST,MaJoC the Filk
Date: 14 Feb 22 - 05:38 AM

Oops: just noticed the brain fart in the previous entry's From field (that's me in a different incarnation). Meanwhile, back at the point, I intend to do the following in tonight's Singaround. It came to pass that I found a works colleague assessing the state of one of the laser printers. "What's with?" says I. "There's a label in the printer," says he, and bitterly regretted it for the rest of the day, as I always sing-test stuff as I filk ....

Label in the Printer

Tune: Little Boxes

There's a label in the printer,
There's a label shedding ticky-tacky
Going walkabout round the rollers
    Till they all look just the same;
Then the black drum, and the red drum,
And the blue drum, and the yellow drum ---
Once they get a taste for ticky-tacky
    They will not be quite the same.

"Use this paper, ready-printed
With the crest of the University
And our Departmental letterhead,
    So they all look just the same;
But beware, these sticky labels
Come adrift from their backing sheet ---
When a printer's full of ticky-tacky
    Ev'ry page will bear the stain."

There's a bored-stiff little schoolgirl
On a week of Work Experience
Playing swapsies with the boxes
    And a label goes astray ....
"Read your contract," saith Repair Man,
Then the Big Cheese thinks "watermark" ---
So his sec-ret-ar-y gets the printer
    And they use it just the same.

Ev'ry page now bears the imprint
Of the crest of the University
And it's all thanks to the ticky-tacky
    That they all come out the same:
There's a grey smudge, and a pink smudge,
And a blue smudge, and a yellow smudge,
Where the toner hits the ticky-tacky,
    And they all look just the same.

This parody Copyright © 2010, 2022 Martin J Carter

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: MaJoC's ditties
From: MaJoC the Filk
Date: 01 May 22 - 09:22 PM

I intend to perpetrate the following in the next Singaround. Once you've been on repeat prescriptions for long enough, this will have happened to you at least once; but twice in six months was Just Too Much.

COME BACK IN THE MORNING

I saw the pharmacist on my way home
I saw the pharmacist on my way home
I saw the pharmacist on my way home
       to pick up all my pills and potions ....

[Oops ....]

Come back in the morning
       I can't yet make up your prescription
Come back in the morning
       I'll try to complete your prescription
We're out of stock here
We're out of stock here
Come back in the morning
       I can't yet make up your prescription.

The queue for the Doctor's more than four weeks long,
The queue for the Doctor's more than four weeks long,
The queue for the Doctor's more than four weeks long,
       so I fill in an old repeat form ....

[Oops squared ....]

Go get an appointment
       The doctor must change your prescription
I've scoured the county
       I just can't complete this prescription
They've ceased production
They've ceased production
Go get an appointment
       The doctor must change your prescription.

The NHS can't afford designer drugs,
The NHS has to buy the cheapest drugs,
The NHS says, Prescribe generic drugs
       with an uneconomic price tag ....

[Six months later, guess what --- ?]

Come back in the morning
       I can't yet make up your prescription
Come back in the morning
       The doctor should change your prescription
Why don't they ask us?
Why don't they listen?
Come back in the morning
       I can't yet make up your prescription.

This parody Copyright © 2018 Dr M j Carter
Tune: The Virgin Mary had a Baby Boy, alias The Calypso Carol

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: MaJoC's ditties
From: Joe Offer
Date: 01 May 22 - 09:37 PM

And ya know, Martin, we appreciate these songs at the Singaround. I don't know how your wife tolerates it, but we're entertained. We're glad to have you both at the Singaround.
-Joe-

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: MaJoC's ditties
From: MaJoC the Filk
Date: 02 May 22 - 07:53 AM

The Management tolerates a great deal from me, up to but not including my thirst for using computers ("You've been on that [ahem] laptop all day :-( ") and my chronic forgetfulness.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: MaJoC's ditties
From: MaJoC the Filk
Date: 04 Jun 22 - 04:50 PM

I intend to (ahem) do the following at next Monday's second-anniversay Singaround.

ALL HOOKED UP

Tune: Elvis Presley's All Shook Up

A-well a-bless a-my soul, what's a-happ'nin' to me?
I've got a brand new contract with an ISP,
My friends say I've caught the World-Wide Bug,
I'm on-line [!]
            I'm all hooked up,
Mm mm mm, Hm, Yea-a-ah.

Well my skills are shaky and my nerves are weak,
I go all to pieces when the system feeps,
But why should I worry when I have such luck?
I'm on-line [!]
            I'm all hooked up,
Mm mm mm, Hm, Yea-a-ah.

Well please don't ask what was on my mind,
I'm three grande poorer but I'm feeling fine,
With a new computer upon my desk
I feel so cool it scares me to death!

When I click that mouse what a thrill I get
To know I'm connected to the Internet,
One of these days I'm gonna fire it up ---
I'm on-line [!]
            I'm all hooked up,
Mm mm mm, Hm, Yea-a-ah.

Though it's all so groovy my one regret
Is that nobody has sent me any e-mail yet,
But when I phone I'm told I'm doing fine
By my friends on my ISP's Help Line ---

The girls there have dubbed me Sir I-D-Ten-T,*
I pay through the nose because my site is free,
They know they're lucky to have signed me up,
I'm on-line [!]
            I'm all hooked up,
Mm mm mm, Hm, Yea-a-ah,
Mm mm mm, Hm, Yea-a-ah,
            I'm all hooked up [!].

This parody Copyright © 1999, 2022 Martin J Carter

* "I-D-Ten-T error" is a term used by helpline operatives, but it is not wise to write the "Ten" as "10" in config-file comments, however annoying the cusstomer may be.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: MaJoC's Ditties
From: MaJoC the Filk
Date: 20 Jun 22 - 11:02 PM

As perpetrated at last night's Singaround. When I played it live at the Acoustic Room, I got accused of being well-read, which I still find mystifying.

DESIGNATED ANSWERER OF QUESTIONS
by; Dr M J Carter
Tune: Dedicated Follower of Fashion, by The Kinks

They phone him here, e-mail him there
Allowed to talk, but never swear
He knows next to nothing but he's learning on the job
       as this week's Designated Answerer of Questions.

His hamster-wheel goes spinning round:
[spoken] "He sounds polite, but is he sound?"
[sung] Calls it "delegation" but he knows it's "pass the buck"
       when he plays Designated Answerer of Questions.

Oh yes he is (oh yes he is), oh yes he is (oh yes he is)
Finds it both efficient and effective
Not to know the answer but to know a man who does
       when he plays Designated Answerer of Questions.

Oh yes he is (oh yes he is), oh yes he is (oh yes he is)
Muckin' out the inbox of Augeas
So much user feedback even Hercules declined
       the task of Designated Answerer of Questions.

They phone him here, e-mail him there
His turn's come round, he does his share
Triaging the army of the seldom-satisfied
       as this week's Designated Answerer of Questions.

Oh yes he is (oh yes he is), oh yes he is (oh yes he is)
When he gets it right he is invisible
He's remembered only when his answers hit the fan
       and he was Designated Answerer of Questions.

Oh yes he is (oh yes he is), oh yes he is (oh yes he is)
[spoken] Welcome to the world-view of the goldfish
Right up there where ev'ryone can mock your ev'ry move
       when you are Designated Answerer of Questions,
       This week's Designated Answerer of Questions,
       [sung] He's a Designated Answerer of Questions.

This parody Copyright © 2009, 2022 Martin J Carter

.... Since the original context was first-line responder duties at my last place of employment (with flashbacks to the job before that), I suppose this can be called a work song.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: the Newbies' Song
From: MaJoC the Filk
Date: 29 Jun 22 - 10:34 AM

.... mistakenly perpetrated at last Monday's Singaround as The Remote Uses' Song (I was working from an intermediate draft, m'Lud).

THE NEWBIES' SONG

Dr M J Carter
Tune: Mike Batt: The Wombling Song

Underused, overlooked, cycles for free,
The users of others' computers are we,
Quietly repurposing kit where we find
Holes in security folks leave behind.

J Random Technoklutz' system protection's
       so twenty-five minutes behind the times ---
       How naiive can you be ---
Why should we pay
       when he's gifted us his kit for free?

Roaming the Net in Pavlovian packs:
We will see weaknesses, we will attack;
Underused, overlooked kit going free,
Invaders of others' computers are we.

[Short burst of blowing own trumpets]

Credit card numerals --- they never see
Under their fingers we log ev'ry key;
We tunnel by night and we roger by day
Ev'ry last firewall stood in our way.

It's so incredibly utterly tedious
       searching the Net for the patch du jour ---
       What the hell is it for? ---
Give 'em the shaft
       before they've a chance to get a clue,
       That's what we do.

Underused, overlooked, cycles for free,
The vermin in ev'ry computer are we,
Taking advantage whenever we find
You've left the keys to your system behind.

[parp pa parp parp *tish*]

This parody Copyright © 2002, 2022 Dr M J Carter

Context: I was thinking when I wrote this in terms of "script kiddies", whose computer-hijacking exploits were the digital equivalent of joyriding and graffiti, and were done mainly for bragging rights. Once they'd been displaced by Big Crime .... well, that was when the game got really nasty, and seriously expensive.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: MaJoC's ditties
From: MaJoC the Filk
Date: 29 Jun 22 - 11:01 AM

Sung by Herself at last Monday's Singaround.

COME ROUND HER

Nicola and Martin Carter
Tune: Cwm Rhondda ("Guide me oh thou great Jehovah")

She's the shark and we're the minnows,
Will we all be swallowed up?
She will talk of days of glory
While her wide boys make their buck:

Soak the paupers,
Soak the paupers,
       Bleed them till they vote for more,
       Bleed them till they vote for more.

Hospitals and education,
Crushed beneath her iron heel;
Lawyers, crooks and city slickers,
all who profit from her deal:

Unemployment,
Unemployment
       Keeps the masses in their place,
       Keeps the masses in their place.

Now she's won the Great Election
Pack your bags and head for hell;
With her dreams of Cruise and Trident
Soon she'll join you there as well:

Armageddon,
Armageddon,
       All she'll ever give to thee,
       All she'll ever give to thee.

This parody Copyright © 1987 Nicola and Martin Carter

Notes:
* The date of composition was just before the tories' third term in office under She Who Must Not Be Named, with one line changed afterwards. (Or was it their second? missing-hard-copy error.)
* Credits are split: Herself started it; I just finished it off.
* When I sing it, the first line of the last verse is "Now democracy's been Murdock'd".

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: MaJoC's ditties
From: MaJoC the Filk
Date: 08 Jul 22 - 07:07 AM

I intend to perpetrate the following fragment at next Monday's Singaround while it's still relevant ....

ALLERGIC TO HIS FACE
(Dr M J Carter)

Tune: Lerner and Lowe: I've grown accustomed to her face
(from My Fair Lady)

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn --- [click]

I've grown allergic to his face
His stutter when his speech begins
I've grown allergic to the way
        he blethers night and day
He laughs, he cries,
        his greed, his lies

Are so repulsive to me now
He's really got beneath my skin

Whenever he comes on,
        then I turn off the TV set;
Somehow I would love to watch
        the news again ....
                and yet

I've grown allergic to the taste
        of bullshit in the air,
Allergic to his
        face.

This parody Copyright © 2022 Dr M J Carter (plus whoever helps complete it)

I really do have this problem with certain politicians' faces, to the extent that I have a book handy to push over their pictures whenever I'm reading the paper. It was started last Wednesday evening; by the Thursday lunchtime, it had been outpaced by events faster than I could have wished; but by that evening, it was clear that the right dishonourable cuckoo has wedged himself into the nest.

I admit this is incomplete. All contributions gratefully received.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: MaJoC's ditties
From: MaJoC the Filk
Date: 13 Jul 22 - 02:30 PM

.... and having perpetrated it, I found it's rearranging and, ahem, extending itself further as events unfold today. I won't repeat the offence, honest.

ALLERGIC TO HIS FACE
(Dr M J Carter)

Tune: Lerner and Lowe: I've grown accustomed to her face,
from My Fair Lady

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn .... [click]

I've grown allergic to his face,
His everlasting cheesy grin;
I've grown allergic to the way
       he blethers night and day,
He laughs, he cries,
       his greed, his lies

Are so repulsive to me now,
He's really got beneath my skin ---

Whenever he comes on,
       then I turn off the TV set;
Somehow I would love to watch
       the news again ....
                and yet

I've grown allergic to his waste,
       the haystack of his hair,
Allergic to his
                face.

[Additional freeform discussion: contributions please]

We've grown allergic to his face,
His stutter when his speech begins,
Backed by a motley crew
       he chose for lack of clue,
He's gone too far:
       "L'État, c'est moi"

Is all too blatent for us now,
Beyond our tolerance for spin ---

He found that playing life for laughs
       made him the teachers' pet,
A wizard wheeze to dodge
       responsibility ....
                and yet

We've grown allergic to that taste
       of bullshit in the air,
Allergic to his
                face.

This parody Copyright © 2022 Dr M J Carter

.... See prev version for discussion. My thanks to Leeneia (sp?) for suggesting the offender's designer-unruly hair.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: MaJoC's ditties
From: MaJoC the Filk
Date: 13 Jul 22 - 02:51 PM

--- Argh: forgot to add that one should imagine Rex Harrison striding into the room, seeing the news on, and turning off the TV. Mayhap some kind MudElf can fix this in the cutting room.

Subject: Lyr Add: The Good Cook Stirs in the Alli-Alli-Um
From: MaJoC the Filk
Date: 01 Aug 22 - 07:23 AM

THE GOOD COOK STIRS IN THE ALLI-ALLIUM
(Dr M J Carter)

Tune: The Big Ship Sails

Every cook knows her onions. There I was, browning the onions for the
cottage pie, when I found myself singing the first verse, and pondering
on the history of the dish as recycled leftovers. After that, the song
wrote itself.

This is to be sung with hand actions, as if by a Cub Scout pack.
They're an 'orrible lot: I blame them for the last verse.

[stirring]
The good cook stirs in the alli-allium,
The alli-allium, the alli-allium,
The good cook stirs in the alli-allium,
       To the last dish on the feast day.

[digging]
The gard'ner digs up the alli-allium,
The alli-allium, the alli-allium,
The gard'ner digs up the alli-allium,
       Three months before the feast day.

[platting]
The gard'ner's boy plats the alli-allium,
The alli-allium, the alli-allium,
The gard'ner's boy plats the alli-allium,
       In a rope before the feast day.

[hanging-up]
The good cook hangs up the alli-allium,
The alli-allium, the alli-allium,
The good cook hangs up the alli-allium,
       In the larder for the feast day.

[cutting and twisting]
The good cook cuts off the alli-allium,
The alli-allium, the alli-allium,
The good cook cuts off the alli-allium,
       On the morning of the feast day.

[chopping]
The kitchen boy chops the alli-allium,
The alli-allium, the alli-allium,
The kitchen boy chops the alli-allium,
       On the morning of the feast day.

[stirring]
The good cook stirs in the alli-allium,
The alli-allium, the alli-allium,
The good cook stirs in the alli-allium,
       To the last dish of the feast day.

[loosening of belt]
His Lorship loosens his cummer-cummerbund,
His cummer-cummerbund, his cummer-cummerbund,
His Lorship loosens his cummer-cummerbund,
       At the table on the feast day.

[scoop and plop on plate]
The butler serves up the alli-allium,
The alli-allium, the alli-allium,
The butler serves up the alli-allium,
       In the last dish on the feast day.

[eating]
Then we all eat up the alli-allium,
The alli-allium, the alli-allium,
Then we all eat up the alli-allium,
       In the last dish on the feast day.

[ad lib .... not to be sung on parents' night :-) ]
His Lorship chucks up the alli-allium,
The alli-allium, the alli-allium,
His Lorship chucks up the alli-allium,
       For he eats too much on feast days.

This parody Copyright © 2022 Dr M J Carter
Filkstamp: Mon Jul 25 12:04:04 2022

Footnotes:

* The best old-fashioned way to store onions is with the leaves still on: plat the leaves into a rope, and hang the rope somewhere dry, eg the larder, for the onions to dry off. They'll last for months.

* Cottage pie is the only dish Herself will permit me to make unsupervised. We've only been married for four decades.

Subject: Lyr Add: Spanish Beaches
From: MaJoC the Filk
Date: 29 Aug 22 - 10:07 AM

I intend to premiere the following in tonight's Singaround: last week I had most of the first and second verses, but it's all the better for having been allowed to mature in the wood.

SPANISH BEACHES
by Dr M J Carter
Tune: Spanish Ladies

Farewell and adieu to you long Spanish beaches
Farewell and adieu to the beach-bars of Spain
For we'll get no closer than a coffee-shop in Eastbourne
And we fear that we never will see you again:

       We'll rant and we'll roar like true British tourists
       We'll rant and we'll rave in our convoy of cars
       For the great English motorway is the world's longest car park
       From London to Dover is thirty-five hours.

We all were prepared for two days of travelling
Halfway to Heathrow as we drove through the night
Comes a text from our carrier who greatly regretted
They were keeping our cash but they cancelled our flight:

       We'll rant ....

These delays at the border were most unexpected
We shuffle along in the Leper Lane trail
Those Frenchies have adopted our quaint English custom
Of a thorough inspection at the speed of their snails:

       We'll rant ....

And on the way back there's a wife who is furious
Her husband's made free with the duty-free gin
There's none left in the baggage, but the customs official
Says, "I'm sorry, we must charge you duty on him":

       We'll rant ....

We'll holiday next year in the old English manner
By taking our ease in the Bank Holiday sun
In a true English tailback from Truro to Brummagen
We'll show M'sieur le Passport how this should be done:

       We'll rant ....

Filkstamp: Fri Aug 26 10:42:15 2022
This parody Copyright © 2022 Martin J Carter

Footnote:

The voices in this satire are not intended to represent opinions of
any persons living, dead or queueing, or even the author.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Turn the Page Over
From: MaJoC the Filk
Date: 18 Dec 22 - 11:32 AM

Oops: I seem to have missed this one out.

TURN THE PAGE OVER
by: Dr M J Carter
Tune: Wild Rover

My father's a book fiend, his shelves are so full
I'll swear they exert gravitational pull;
Because I buy e-books I've got even more,
Yet still my coat pocket's not dragged to the floor ---
   
       And it's no, nay, never, [!] [!] [!] [!]
       No, nay, never no more
       Will I turn the page over,
       No never, no more.

Got a title by Orwell and started to read,
Winston Smith in the MinTruth rewrites history;
I said, I've done no wrong, what have I to fear?
Then George Orwell's book in a flash disappeared ---

       And it's no ....

Ray Bradbury's title I thought worth a look,
'Bout a man called a fireman because he burns books;
And right then the Kindle lived up to its name
When Fahrenheit 451 burst into flames ---

       And it's no ....

When I read of Discworld I wasn't prepared
That the tendrils of L-Space extend everywhere:
An arm came from nowhere, and left on my book
A bananary thumb-print, with an echo of *Oook* ---

       And it's no ....

These prophets were not of foreknowledge possessed:
They took what they knew, and said, What happens next?
Though the sleeve of prediction may be slightly frayed,
We live in their future, but call it Today ---

       And it's no ....

This parody Copyright (c) 2018, 2019 Martin J Carter
Filkstamp: 26th Sep 2018

Footnote:
Written from the POV of our daughter, a third-generation bibliovore who ran out of shelf-space and bought a Kindle ("It's wonderful --- Sean doesn't know how many books I've bought!"). One of the middle verses is also based on a real-life incident; working out which one is left as an exercise for the reader.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Hillbilly Heaven
From: MaJoC the Filk
Date: 18 Dec 22 - 12:18 PM

Here's another I neglected to add earlier. Apologies for the delay.

HILLBILLY HEAVEN
By: Dr M J Carter
Tune: (unknown)

The Afterlive's way overcrowded,
They've simply no room there for more;
Completely by chance I've been given a glance
And been sent back to say what I saw ....

'Twas the night of our rock-tour finale,
We'd conquered the summits of rock,
And looking back now, we'd stepped forth for a bow
When suddenly everything stopped ---

I awoke in a meadow of music,
With moonshine the sky was aglow,
And on the main stage, a denim-clad sage
Led a class in clawhammer banjo.

Then someone grabbed me by the elbow:
I stood in a great barn-dance square;
With the banjo band frailing I found myself sailing
A complete stranger up in the air.

We escaped at the end of the figure;
"This is Hillbilly Heaven," she said;
"I assure you the fun here has barely begun ---
Now isn't this worth being dead?"

"But my weapon of choice is a Fender,"
Says I, "so this Heaven's a fail;
I'd quite like to go now," and she says "I know" ---
And that's when I trod on her tail [!]

Our roadie was shaking my shoulders,
To focus my eyes took an age;
He said with relief, but through gritted teeth:
"You pilllock, you fell off the stage ---

"We really thought you were a goner,
Then I suddenly saw with a thrill ....
You've got two left feet, but just now in your sleep
You were dancing a perfect quadrille."

The Afterlife's way overcrowded,
The evidence now I can tell,
For someone's idea of Heaven, it's clear,
Doubles up as the next person's hell,
        So help me God.

This parody Copyright © 2022 Martin J Carter
Filkstamp: 5th March 2022

Footnote:
This was actually based on someone else's nightmare, documented in a NetNews article before I'd even heard of the World-Wide Web. If the original victim steps up, I'd be happy to add appropriate "Based on ...." credits.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Gentleman Porkers
From: MaJoC the Filk
Date: 24 Dec 22 - 10:21 AM

GENTLEMAN PORKERS
By: Dr M J Carter
Tune: Gentleman Rankers

We are three little pigs who have gone astray,
       Boar, Boar, Boar;
We pushed through their legs and swam away,
       Boar, Boar, Boar;
Gentleman porkers, waddling free,
Chased by the men from the BBC:
Lord have mercy on such as *weee* ---
       Boar, Boar, Boar.

This parody Copyright © 2000, 2022 Martin J Carter
Filkstamp (approximate): 1st April 2000

Footnote:
This was originally perpetrated to celebrate the escape and escapades of the Tamworth Two in 1998. The other day (December 2022), I saw a story on the BBC Red Button about three little pigs who were doing a reenactment somewhere Oop Norf, so this seemed worth updating ....

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: MaJoC's ditties
From: MaJoC the Filk
Date: 11 Jan 23 - 10:01 AM

Here's one I originally writted in the late 1990s, and sang (for old times' sake) last Monday. It's still a protest song: even I have noticed how much the wretched machines have come to dominate Hom Sap.

THE TIME_TS ARE A-CHANGING
By: Dr M J Carter
Tune: The Times They Are a-Changing (Bob Dylan)

Come gather round users wherever you moan
And admit the computers around you have grown
So supportive you now cannot stand on your own
        If your mind for you is worth saving
Rediscover your legs or you'll drop like a stone
        For the Time_Ts are a-changing.

Come post-dated programmers profit now by your pens
Set your cursors to stun, 'tis the sweetest revenge
That this bugfest has got your old firm in a spin
        Only you can tell who that it's maiming
And their sheer desperation's your lucrative win
        When the Time_Ts are a-changing.

Come captains of industry throughout the land
And don't blindly re-use what you don't understand
Programmer supply's way outstripped by demand
        Your COBOL is rapidly ageing
So don't sever those old but experienced hands
        For the Time_Ts are a-changing.

Come beaureaucrats, businessmen, it's your last call
You've whittled your margin of error so small
By your procrastination, tomorrow you'll fall
        This problem is of your own making
Now it's hitting the fan and repainting your walls
        For the Time_Ts are a-changing.

The dateline is drawn, the cursor is cast
Millennium roll-over's coming on fast
As it steps on the landmines of five decades past
        Disorder and chaos are gaining
And the first code fixed is most likely to last
        Till the Time_Ts are done changing.

This parody Copyright © 1997, 1999 Martin J Carter
Filkstamp: Fri Jun 20 20:55:34 1997

Footnote: Y2K was the panic which worked: tens of billions of dollars in remediation meant that no planes fell out of the sky, though there were minor skirmishes that need not detain us here. Some kind soul even carefully corrected my misspelling of millennium ("an easily corrected Y2K problem", says Chris Holden).

At the time of typing, we are more than halfway from Y2K to Y2K38 (where 32-bit time_ts really will wrap round), but the latter is more than halfway to being solved at (ahem) source.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Black Velvet Band (variant)
From: MaJoC the Filk
Date: 23 Jan 23 - 10:12 AM

This may or may not have been perpetrated in the Singaround (might it have been in Camp Harmony?): all I can remember of the first online performance is Herself trying to tell me the banjo was too loud, and that I couldn't hear what she was saying over the racket from the banjo .... Anyhoo, here's the words for them as couldn't hear them properly the first time, tamped down by more extended sing-testing.

BLACK VELVET BAND (variant)
By: Dr M J Carter
Original: Black Velvet Band (trad)

In a quaint little town they call Scunthorpe,
A group of us started to play
Singing Irish songs in an Irish pub
To music'ly round off the day;
What name, says the landlord, shall I put upon
These publicity posters I've planned?
Says the colleen at the next table,
What else? --- they're the Black Velvet Band:

       Her hair was all purple and diamonds,
       We thought her our number-one fan,
       For every night in the audience
       She cheered for the Black Velvet Band.

Are you lads good enough to try touring?
Says she in a quiet aside;
While you sit there drinking and doubting,
You never will know 'til you've tried ....
We bought the extra equipment,
Insured it for seventeen grand,
And started to traipse round the country as
The Unbroken Black Velvet Band:

       Her hair ---

One night halfway through the tour, m'Lud,
The last thing my mem'ry retains
Is going downstairs for an unfinished pint
That was plaintively calling my name ....
When I woke next morning, my eyeballs
Did throb with an almighty clang;
Once I'd gathered my wits, we discovered our kit
Had deserted the Black Velvet Band:

       Her hair ---

After weeks of careful enquiry,
Thus spake the Constabulary:
Your van was abandoned near Grimsby
As empty as cold charity;
The guitars have long since gone E-Bay,
The PA's in Afghanistan,
And the drum kit's on a container ship
That's halfway to Van Diemen's Land:

       She put on a wond'rous performance,
       But now we know now she was no fan,
       For ev'ry night from the audience
       She was casing the Black Velvet Band.

When we tried to claim on insurance,
We found that the going gets rough
When insurers ensure that no policy
Is quite comprehensive enough;
And that's where we rest our case, m'Lud,
And trust that you now understand
The accused steals band kit to order,
And she scuppered the Black Velvet Band:

       She put on a wond'rous performance,
       But now we know now she was no fan,
       For ev'ry night from the audience
       She was casing the Black Velvet Band ....

       Her hair was all purple and diamonds,
       We thought her our number-one fan,
       For every night in the audience
       She cheered for the Black Velvet Band.

Filkstamp:      Sun Jan 1 15:02:05 2023 GMT
This parody Copyright © 2023 Martin J Carter

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: MaJoC's ditties
From: Steve Gardham
Date: 23 Jan 23 - 10:48 AM

Some great material, Doc Martin.
Keep em comin'.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: MaJoC's ditties
From: MaJoC the Filk
Date: 30 Jan 23 - 11:35 AM

Refresh, as I said (in RainyCamp) that I'd enter All Hooked Up, only to find I already had.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Summertown Rent
From: MaJoC the Filk
Date: 23 May 23 - 10:29 AM

As premiered in yesterday's Singaround. Apologies for fluffing of lines.

SUMMERTOWN RENT
By: Dr M J Carter
Tune: Summertime Blues (Eddie Cochran)

Why do people think I'm bright,
       why do people say I'm clever?
Got my batchelor's
       on the academic never-never
I put down a deposit for my new home-from-home,
The bank says:
       No dice, kid, your overdraught's blown. [!]
How can I live here? My microgrant is spent
And there ain't no cap on the Summertown rent.

Well I don't know
       why ev'rybody else should think it's funny
That my acute housing problem's
       interfering with my studies
I asked for an advance on my demonstrator's wage
(he said)
       The day I see you here
       is the day you're getting paid. [!]
Sleep in my office? I haven't got a cent
Since I tried to cough up the Summertown rent.

After two weeks flat
       now I know where all my grant went
I'm gonna take my case
       to the Head of Department
I've gotta make some cash, stacking shelves through the night
(he said)
       I'd like to help but you've
       got a thesis to write. [!]
I'll catch the daily commuter train from Kent
Cos it's half the price of the Summertown rent.

This parody Copyright (c) 2011, 2023 Martin J Carter
Filkstamp: Sat Dec 3 2011

Footnotes:
* Summertown is a suburb of Oxford, full of small flats with astronomical rents. Searching for a billet in Oxford in 2005 caused me to have a flashback to 1979, when I was doing research for a PhD in househunting in Canterbury.

* The immediate trigger for the above parody was seeing the number 2D bus in Oxford, realising that it served Summertown, and joyously thinking "It's Flatland!" Spot the recreational mathematician, folks.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: This Old Mouse
From: MaJoC the Filk
Date: 10 Sep 24 - 09:06 AM

Title: This Old Mouse
Author: MaJoC (Dr M J Carter)
Original: This Old House
Comments: Once I can locate a three-button serial tracker with a
       billiard-size ball ... [*sigh*]

                This Old Mouse

    This old mouse been used by children,
            This old mouse been used by brats;
    This old mouse been used by undergrads
            who never use the mat.
    This old mouse is getting grubby,
            This old mouse is gone to seed,
    For there's caked-on cruft and cobwebs
            More than halfway up its lead.
   
    Ain't a-gonna knead this mouse no longer,
            Ain't a-gonna knead this mouse no more;
    Now its clicks are in the window,
            Now its clicks are on the floor,
    Now its chronic inconsistency's
            A constant clickin' pain;
    Ain't a-gonna knead this mouse no longer ---
            Gonna get a tracker to take the strain.
   
    This old mouse once pixel-perfect,
            This old mouse once all the rage,
    This old mouse mislays its driver,
            This old mouse betrays its age
    When its cursor acts the drunkard
            And its once-straight lines are rough:
    On its rollers and its idler wheel
            there's half a ton of cruft.
   
    Ain't a-gonna knead this mouse no longer,
            Ain't a-gonna knead this mouse no more;
    Ain't no time for shoulder stiff'nin',
            Ain't no time for knuckles sore,
    Ain't no time for tennis elbow,
            Wrists on fire or finger pain;
    Ain't a-gonna knead this mouse no longer ---
            Gonna let a tracker relieve the strain.

----
This parody Copyright (c) 1999, 2003 Martin J Carter
Filkstamp: Wed Aug 18 2:41:24 1999

Background:

This was written in the days before the advent of optical computer mice, when I was in charge of the undergrad computing room; my main task seemed to be dealing with plaintive cries of "this mouse ain't working". I was at the time looking for a trackball to help relieve the stress-fracture RSI in my primary-click finger [snip: full saga available on request].

Glossary:

cruft: a rather horrible greyish substance (you don't want to know on a full stomach) which grows on and befouls the rollers in ball-based mice. See also the Wikipedia entry, and sense 2 of the Jargon File entry for crufty, and shudder.