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Son Of A Son Of A Vor Lord

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On November 10, 2013

In Songs

Son of a Son of a Vor Lord
by Rob Wynne
TTTO: “Son Of A Son Of A Sailor” by Jimmy Buffett

As the son of a son of a Vor lord
I went out into space for excitement
I set out to bamboozle a captain and crew
By pretending I’m some sort of pirate

As a schemer of tactics and a student of war
I make up my plans as I go
Read many accounts about soldiers and Counts
It was all that I needed to know

Son of a son, son of a son
Son of a son of a Vor Lord
Under the gun, talk on the run
My momentum carrys me forward

With a fleet of my own in a distant war zone
I crafted a brand new persona
I can shake the hand of the ImpSec man
While he pretends he doesn’t know me

And my lady was born on Station Kline
Floating out in the space lanes
Fast on her feet, runs the whole fleet
And her beauty is matched by her brains

Preparing to race through the wormholes in space
Our forefathers mapped out before us
Feel the hull thrum as the jump engines hum
And see what is waiting there for us

Wherever I go, I’ll find trouble I know
In deep space, or the Dendarii mountains
I don’t stop to reflect about what happens next
At least I didn’t end up an accountant

But a son of a son, son of a son
Son of a son of a Vor lord
Under the gun, talk on the run
My momentum carrys me forward

I’m just a son of a son, son of a son
Son of a son of a Vor lord
My honour is bound to the Emperor’s crown
And I know I will not die of boredom

I started writing this song five or six years ago, and got stuck in the middle because I wasn’t even sure at what point in the series the song was set.  I put it away and ran across the notes on it recently while tidying up some old folders, and suddenly i knew what I needed to do with it.

This is based on Lois McMaster Bujold’s Vorkoskigan Saga, and specifically is set sometime before Memory, but after Miles has had time to establish himself with the Dendarii mercenaries.  So, maybe sometime around Brothers in Arms or Borders of Infinity.

I debuted this song in my concert set at Orycon 35 in Portland, Oregon.

Don’t Cry, My Dear, Have A Cracker

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On March 26, 2012

In Blog, Songs

Don’t Cry, My Dear, Have A Cracker
(Or, “I Always Swore I’d Never Be One Of Those Parents”)
by Rob Wynne
TTTO: “Don’t Cry For Me, Argentina” (Tim Rice/Andrew Lloyd Weber)

You are unhappy
I don’t know why
And I try to work out how you feel
But you cannot speak words
You just sit there and cry
You don’t believe me
When I say that
It will all be okay
Although you are fed, warm, and dry
I guess it’s just that time of day

You threw aside your bottle
You’ve just been changed
Couldn’t spend your whole day on my lap
Looking out of the window
Taking naps in the sun
So you chose screaming
Running around grabbing everything near
But nothing could calm you at all
And so my last resort is clear

Don’t cry, my dear, have a cracker
It has cheese on, and some salami
It was an hors d’oeuvre
Made for a party
But you can eat one
There’s no one looking

As for nutrition and all that jazz
At this point I really don’t care
You can eat the whole tray
If that’s what you desire
At least you’re quiet
And if you remain still
And promise to nap
Then we can have ice cream for lunch
And soda and all of that crap

Don’t cry, my dear, have a cracker
It has cheese on, and some salami
It was an hors d’oeuvre
made for a party
But you can eat them
There’s no one looking

Have I done too much?
There’s nothing left here, I can’t feed you any more
But all you have to do
Is look at me and cry
And I’ll run to the store…

Inspired in small part by a conversation with Brooke. No actual children were fed inappropriate foods in the making of this song, though a sandwich may or may not have been misappropriated…

Outbreak

By

On January 1, 2007

In Songs

Outbreak
by Robert Wynne and Larissa March
Music: “The Overall Distance” by Ben Wakeman
© 2007

Thirty miles from Memphis
There’s a wreck on the Interstate
Some folks crash and die,
While the rest reanimate.
They start to shamble towards my car
I think my time is running out
At first I feared they’d want to eat my brain
But now I don’t have any doubt.

It’s not the overall death toll,
But all the zombies on the way,
That send you fleeing from your home,
Make you run further every day.

There’s a dead woman next to me,
Right outside my Oldsmobile.
Half her body’s gone,
She’s too horrific to be real.
So young to be undead,
But she’s clawing at the door,
I think I could take her out myself,
But here come half a dozen more.

It’s not the overall death toll,
But all the zombies on the way,
That send you fleeing from your home,
Make you run further every day.

There’s a corpse standing by the on ramp
Gnawing on a dying man
His coat is stained with blood
He’s got a brain clutched in his hand
I could chop him into bits
And at first I think I will,
But his friends are closing in on me
And there’s more of them than I can kill.

It’s not the overall death toll,
But all the zombies on the way,
That send you fleeing from your home,
Make you run further every day.

There’s a terror I start to feel
I turn and run through open fields
I know the zombies are hot on my trail
And i won’t have a future if I fumble and fail
I’m a man on the run and I don’t know how long my life will last
I must escape the undead
I must escape the undead — run fast!
Run fast!

Press Gang (Ya Got Trouble)

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On January 1, 2007

In Songs

Press Gang (Ya Got Trouble)
by Robert Wynne
Music: “Ya Got Trouble” by Meredith Wilson (from The Music Man)
© 2007

Well, either you’re closing your eyes
To a situation you do not wish to acknowledge
Or you are not aware of the caliber of disaster indicated
By the presence of a film crew at your convention

Well, Ya got trouble, my friend, right here,
I say, trouble right here at your convention
Why sure I’m a filking fan
Certainly mighty proud I say
I’m always mighty proud to say it.
I consider that the hours I spend
With an axe in my hand are golden.
Help you cultivate rhythm sense
And a cool hand and a keen mind.
D’ya ever take and try to get
A round of applause for yourself
From a three verse parody?
But just as I say,
It takes judgment, brains, and maturity to play
In a chaos circle
I say that any boob kin take
And film a song with a camera
And I call that sloth.
The first big step on the road
To the depths of deg-ra-Day–
I say, first, newspaper men writing features
Then TV reporters!

An’ the next thing ya know,
Your fan is singin’ for money in a video
And list’nin to some big out-a-town jasper
Hearin’ him tell about Creation conventions
Not a wholesome fannish con, no!
But a con where they charge for the autographs!
Like to see some stuck-up filker’boy goin’ on Wife Swap?
Make your blood boil?
Well, I should say.

Now, friends, lemme tell you what I mean.
Ya got one, two, three, four, five, six guitarists in a circle
Guitarists that mark the diff’rence
Between a filkcon and distress
With a capital “D,”
And that rhymes with “P” and that stands for press!

And all weekend your convention fans’ll be frittern away,
I say your good fen’ll be frittern!
Frittern away their circle time, panel time, concerts too!
Get the song on the camera
Never mind gittin’ chairs in a circle
Or the flyers set out or the mics set up
Never mind pourin’ any water
‘Til your filkers are caught with the pitcher empty
On a Saturday night and that’s trouble,
Yes we got lots and lots a’ trouble.
I’m thinkin’ of the fans in the beanie-hats
Button-mail true fen, peekin’ in the filk room window at the mess
Ya Got trouble, folks, right here at your convention
Trouble with a capital “T”
And that rhymes with “P” and that stands for press!

Now, I know all you folks are the right kinda fans
I’m gonna be perfectly frank.
Would ya like to know what kinda conversation goes
On while they’re loafin’ around that camera?
They’re tryin’ out bumpers, tryin’ out slow fades
Tryin’ out SFX like video fiends!
And braggin’ all about
How they’re gonna cover up a tell-tale flub with a punch-in!

One fine night, they leave the filk room
Headin’ for the party on the third floor
Anime fen and Star Trek watchers!
And electronic, shameless music
That’ll grab your fan, your filker
With the arms of a TV media instinct!
Mass-staria!

Friends, the filmer’s lens is the devil’s playground!

Trouble, (oh we got trouble),
Right here at your convention
(Right here at our convention!)
With a capital “T” that rhymes with “P”
And that stands for press,
(That stands for press.)
You’e surely got trouble
(We’ve surely got trouble!)
Right here at your convention!
(Right here!)
Gotta figger out a way
To keep the filkroom pure and a success
(Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble…)

Fans of this convention!
Heed that warning before it’s too late!
Watch for the tell-tale sign of press infiltration
The moment that fan enters the room
Does he rearrange the buttons pinned below his badge?
Is there a pencil impression on his index finger?
A video camera hidden in his backpack?
Is he starting to memorize jokes from hallway conversations?
Are certain words creeping into his vocabulary?
Words like…like ‘quote?”
Ah-ha! And ‘can we get some better lighting?”

Well, if so my friends,
Ya got trouble,
(Oh, we got trouble!)
Right here in at your convention
(Right here at our convention!)
With a capital “T”
And that rhymes with “P”
And that stands for press.
(That stands for press!)
We’ve surely got trouble!
(We’ve surely got trouble!)
Right here at your convention!
(Right here!)
Remember Gafilk, FKO, and all the rest!

Oh, we’ve got trouble.
We’re in terrible, terrible trouble.
Those guys with the cameras takin’ notes are the devil’s guests!
(Devil’s guests!)
Oh yes we got trouble, trouble, trouble!
(Oh yes we got trouble, yes we got big big trouble!)
With a “T”! Gotta rhyme it with “P”!
And that stands for press!!!
(That stands for press!!!)

Aural Vixation

By

On January 1, 2006

In Songs

Aural Vixation
by Robert Wynne
Music: “The Girl Who’s Never Been” by Michelle Dockrey
© 2006

This last weekend I had gone to an SF music con
And I sat down at the concert Friday night
Songs of battle filled the room, torch songs followed none too soon
And the classic songs were all a big delight
Having heard all of the rest, the last set would decide the best —
On the stage there stepped a girl with hair of red.
And she sang to us this song; although it wasn’t very long
Since that moment it’s been trapped and it won’t get out of my head!

Save me! Save me!
It’s trapped in my head, you see!
Oh no, I think it’s starting up again!
Save me! Save me!
It won’t leave my memory!
I swear, this is the song that never ends!

Many other songs were played, I’m not quite sure why this one stayed;
Four days later and it’s still on endless play.
Other earworms can’t prevail, even “It’s A Small World” failed,
But it’s stuck in here and it won’t go away
So I went to see the girl who let it loose upon the world
She said “My lord, aren’t you guys sick of it by now?”
I suppose it could be worse, at least this is a pleasant curse
But I would send it out of my head if you’d only tell me how!

Save me! Save me!
It’s trapped in my head, you see
Oh no, I think it’s starting up again
Save me! Save me!
It won’t leave my memory
I swear, this is the song that never ends

Just another west coast filker singing her songs late at night
Sitting with her pers’nal guitarist and notebook held too tight
Just a singer in the circle with a smile bright as the sun
But I don’t know how she does the things she’s done

“Oh, take pity on me please! I’ll even get down on my knees!”
I begged her to relieve my aching brain
She said “Well, now since it’s you, I guess I’ll see what I can do”
And with a wink began to sing again
Well, I sat and listened well as she began to tell the tale
Of the man who makes a family of his crew
And it wasn’t very long until she finished up the song
And now where there’d been just one song, there suddenly were two!

Take love! Take land!
Take the place where I can stand!
But you can’t take the sky away from me!
Take out! To black!
Tell them that I won’t be back
I swear, you cannot take the sky from me!

And she faded, leaving just this parody

Naked Ambition

By

On January 1, 2006

In Songs

Naked Ambition
by Robert Wynne
Music: “Close to You” by Burth Bacharach and Hal David
© 2006

Why do I, every time I dream,
Picture you….and whipped cream?
It’s just like me to want to see
Clothes off you….

I forget what I meant to say
When you wear lingerie;
That is why I long to spy
Clothes off you…

On the day that you were born
You came out wearing nothing
That’s the reason that it’s called a birthday suit…
Please understand, from where I stand
That birthday suit you’re wearing is a beaut!

I admit…I’m not a subtle guy.
It’s not hard to see why
I approve each time you remove
Clothes from you

Small Town Dungeon

By

On January 1, 2006

In Songs

Small Town Dungeon
by Robert Wynne
Music: “Dollar Fifty Movies” by Ookla the Mok
© 2006

What can you do when you’re all broke and you’re out of work
How can you score some easy gold
The stairs led down, I lit a torch and I went in
Into the darkness and the cold

I’m going to the dungeon
That little small-town dungeon
A small-town dungeon won’t hold a lot
I’m going to the dungeon
That little small-town dungeon
A +1 dagger’s all that I’ve got
But a +1 dagger, that ain’t a lot
To fight your prey

I can cast a single spell
Then my use is shot to hell
I searched my tomes and learned them well
I packed my candle, book and bell

I’m going to the dungeon
The little small-town dungeon
A small town dungeon won’t hold a lot
Finding lots of treasure is always such a pleasure
When a +1 dagger’s all that you’ve got
And you tried to sneak through but you got caught

You hope the guards are kobolds
‘Cause you aren’t feeling too bold
And a troll is more than you want to face
You wouldn’t mind a goblin if he’s hurt and kinda hobblin’
And the cleric knocks him out with a mace
Just bops him on the head with a mace

There’s power when you find a new wand that shoots fire
And the chest of gold that’ll bring you the comfot you desire
When the monsters are defeated and won’t give any grief
To a wizard, a cleric, two fighters and a thief

Home from the dungeon
The little small town dungeon
We brought back the loot they said was so grand
It was eighty pounds of silver, a magic bow and quiver
And a ring of elemental command
And this thing that looks like Vecna’s left hand
We’ve got it made!

Nothing to loot and nothing to slay
We’ll have to come back another day
When it fills back up with prey
We’ll come and collect our pay

We’re not going to that dungeon
That little small town dungeon
Cause that little dungeon don’t hold a lot
We’re not going to that dungeon cause a bigger one is more fun
And by this time my level’s gone up a lot
And when we stagger out, I’m left with one thought
We got away!

Ordinary Tree

By

On January 1, 2006

In Songs

Ordinary Tree
by Robert Wynne
Music: “Ordinary Day” by Great Big Sea
Inspired by: “Sycamore Tree” by Seanan McGuire
© 2006

Saw your name on the tree, your initials surround mine
I wonder who carved them there for me to find, oh-oh.
It’s a lie, but it’s also a fact
I love you, but I can’t come back
‘Cause I must fly…

And I say….Way-hey-hey, I’ve just got to fly away
And you’re not going to call me home
And the end of the day, I know I must fly on my own

I did all that I could to keep you from dying
And you’ll never know why I can’t keep from crying
But you fit in this small town world
And I can’t be a small town girl
No, I must fly…

Way-hey-hey, I’ve just got to fly away
And you’re not going to call me home
And the end of the day, I know I must fly on my own

We each paid our dues and we each played our parts
But there’s no second chances, there’s no second starts, oh no
And you’re not coming back through my door
But I know now who this song is for
And I must fly…

Way-hey-hey, I’ve just got to fly away
And you’re not going to call me home
And the end of the day, I know I must fly on my own

Saw your name on the tree, your initials surround mine….

Your Call Is Very Important To Us…

By

On January 1, 2006

In Songs

Your Call Is Very Important To Us…
by Robert Wynne and Larissa March
Music: “Nessie Come Up” by Dr. J. Robinson
© 2006

The customer sits by his keyboard
He needs to reach tech support
His coffee goes cold
while he’s waiting on hold
Three hours at the last report
The muzak plays soft in the background
As a voice he no longer believes
Says “Each call will be
Answered momentarily
In the order that it was received”

Thank you for holding on still,
For waiting for us so long,
For being polite and holding all night,
Your hope and your faith are so strong!
We thought that you might, we bet we were right,
We see that we weren’t wrong!
Thank you for waiting so, waiting so, waiting so,
Thank you for waiting so long!

He daydreams of a working computer
As the music his thoughts intertwine
He starts to lose hope
He’ll be able to cope
When a cheerful voice comes on the line
He tells her his problem in detail
And all of his details and specs
“Oh, sorry, sir you
Got into the wrong queue
I’ll transfer you, hold just a sec…”

Thank you for holding on still,
For waiting for us so long,
For being polite and holding all night,
Your hope and your faith are so strong!
We thought that you might, we bet we were right,
We see that we weren’t wrong!
Thank you for waiting so, waiting so, waiting so,
Thank you for waiting so long!

The morning sun shines through the window
As he slumps in his chair, fast asleep
The phone in his lap
He succumbed to a nap
And slowly the hours have creeped
A puzzled technician asks three times
“Hello, is there anyone there?”
Then she shrugs and moves on
As he wakes with a yawn
To hear that same tape loop declare…

Thank you for holding on still,
For waiting for us so long,
For being polite and holding all night,
Your hope and your faith are so strong!
We thought that you might, we bet we were right,
We see that we weren’t wrong!
Thank you for waiting so, waiting so, waiting so,
Thank you for waiting so long!

Where’s The Filkcircle

By

On January 1, 2006

In Songs

Where’s The Filkcircle
by Robert Wynne
Music: “Where’s the Orchestra” by Billy Joel
© 2006

Where’s the filkcircle?
Wasn’t this supposed to be an SF con?
Here I am, wandering the halls
How the hell could I have missed rousing guitars?

I liked the masquerade
Even though I had absolutely no idea at all
What was being said in all the panel talks
There’s the big name fan
The leading pro who never left the audience

Where’s the filkcircle?
After all, this is my big weekend from home
My trip to faerie, or the stars to roam
I assumed that a con would have a song
So I was wrong
So I’ll just sit right here
And play my guitar softly in the atrium
Then slowly one or two
Stop to hear a song
Then sit and sing along

And after the con is done
And after the last dog falls
The last note calls
From an open chord
At the filkcircle

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