There’s a venerable tradition in folk music of re-purposing old familiar tunes by bolting on new lyrics. The practice was old when Martin Luther used it to create the Lutheran Hymnody. (Did you know that “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” was set to the tune of “Einhundert Flaschen Bier an der Wand”? Okay, I made that one up.) Among Science Fiction fen, the practice is called “Filk-singing”, after a typo for “Folk-singing” in a convention program years back which they embraced and made their own.
Being the son of a Lutheran minister who played the guitar and liked science fiction, I suppose it’s not surprising that I’ve written a bit of filk myself. Here is a set of verses with a literary theme; starting off with one in which the famous anti-hero of Kurt Weill’s The Threepenny Opera stabs his way through the corpus (if that’s the word I want) of American Literature. Take notes; there will be a test on this.
Hit it, Satchmo!
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(sung to the tune of "Mack the Knife")
Oh the shark has
Pretty teeth, Dear;
And he shows them
Pearly white;
You won’t find him
Read a book, Dear,
But you might see
Mack the Knife.
When the shark bites
With his teeth, Dear,
Scarlet billows
Start to spread.
Mack is very
Literary;
You might say that
He’s well-read.
Once upon a
Midnight dreary,
Weak and weary
Pondered I;
Is that tapping
Just a raven,
Or is Macheath
Stopping by?
Mistress Em’ly
Belle of Amherst
Once sat writing
Over tea;
“Since I could not
Stop for Death, Dear,
Mack, he kindly
Stopped for me.”
By the shores of
Gitche Gumee
Hiawatha
Used to go;
Now Nokomis
Sits there weeping;
Mack, please say it
Isn’t so!
Captain Ahab,
That fanatic,
Sought to kill a
Monster whale;
But who really
Sank the Pequod?
Mack says “Call me
Ishmael!”
Through the Valley
Of the Ashes
Wealthy Gatsby
Used to drive:
While the billboard
Watches gravely;
Will he make it
Home alive?
Once an Old Man
Caught a “Beeg Feesh”
As he struggled
‘Gainst the Sea;
When the Sharks bit
With their teeth, Dear,
Mack said “Leave a
Bite for me!”
Rev’rend Dimmsdale,
Sinning Hester,
Justice Pyncheon,
Sweet Goodman Brown;
Mister Hawthorne
Set them up, Dear,
It was Mack who
Knocked ‘em down.
Our great authors
Wrote us stories
Full of sorrow
Pain and strife;
Don’t go napping
While in Lit class,
Or you might miss
Mack the Knife!
* * * * *
Keeping with the Jazz theme, here’s one about a literary figure who, to my knowledge, never visited New Orleans. But if he did, it might sound something like this:
Baker Street Blues
(to the tune of “Basin Street Blues”)
Won't you take a trip with me,
Down to London city;
If there's a myst'ry, the man to meet
Is the detective down on Baker Street.
Mrs. Hudson will meet us;
And Watson will greet us.
For solving myst'ries he can't be beat;
The Great Detective lives on Baker Street.
CHORUS:
Oh, Baker Street
Is the street
Where Holmes and Watson
Always meet.
Two-twenty-one B;
He's the man to see:
The Great Detective Sherlock Holmes
Whom Watson wrote in many tomes.
Oh, glad to be,
Yes-sirree,
Where ev'rythings
Elementary;
And I can lose
Those Baker Street Blues!
* * * * *
When the David Lynch movie adaptation of Dune came out in the mid-’80s, the scenes in which Paul Atredies is shown riding a giant sandworm made me think of surfers from old ‘60s beach movies. Which is probably why, when I set my hand at writing a filk for Dune, I based it off of a ‘60s anthem:
Muad’Dib
(to the tune of “Alley Oop” )
There's a guy, he's the Mahdi whom I'm sure you've heard;
(Muad'Dib-dib, Dib, Dib-dib)
Yeah he lives on Arrakis, that's the desert world.
(Muad'Dib-dib, Dib, Dib-dib)
The best Fremen warrior what ever lived;
(Muad'Dib-dib, Dib, Dib-dib)
Yeah, this cat's name is, uh, Muad'Dib;
(Muad'Dib-dib, Dib, Dib-dib)
(Muad'Dib)
He's got a stillsuit that looks pretty rad;
(Muad'Dib)
But them Harkonnens got him hoppin' mad;
(Muad'Dib)
Gonna start up his own Ji-had;
-- Look at them sandworms go...
Well he looks through the future with his mystic spice
(Muad'Dib-dib, Dib, Dib-dib)
That's the stuff what gives him funky lookin' eyes;
(Muad'Dib-dib, Dib, Dib-dib)
Well, he'll whup them Harkonnens and I'll say what's more;
(Muad'Dib-dib, Dib, Dib-dib)
Yeah, if he plays things right he'll be the Emperor!
(Muad'Dib-dib, Dib, Dib-dib)
(Muad'Dib)
Got a stillsuit that looks pretty rad;
(Muad'Dib)
Them Harkonnens got him hoppin' mad;
(Muad'Dib)
Gonna start up his own Ji-had
-- Look at them sandworms go…
* * * * *
And one more for the road, which as Professor Tolkien informs me, Goes Ever On:
(tune: "Windmills of Your Mind")
It lies heavy in my pocket like a red and lidless eye,
I don't know how I can destroy it but I know I gotta try;
I gotta take it down to Mordor, chuck it in the Crack of Doom
Or Sauron's hordes will surely triumph and they're gonna do it soon;
I gotta travel through the wild where no Hobbit's ever gone
And all the while this voice keeps telling me to put the sucker on;
It seems that recently I find
This ring is gnawing on my mind.
I left Hobbiton last autumn chased by creepy guys in black
Along with Merry, Sam and Pippin and no chance of coming back
We met with Aragorn the Ranger, (pleasant guy, but kinda grim),
He said he'd take us all to Rivendell and keep the Ring from HIM;
We went to Elrond lord of Rivendell to ask him what to do,
He said "The Doom of Middle-Earth is nigh; tough, kid, it's up to you!"
It's like a fate I don't deserve
This ring is getting on my nerves!
We lost Gandalf in a pit somewhere down deep in Khazad-Dum;
We got to rest a while in Lorien but had to leave too soon;
Pursued by Gollum (slimy creep) consumed by jealousy and hate
And even Boromir of Gondor eyes me funnily of late;
We have to slog through swamps and Oliphaunts and Orcs and everything
And when it would be swell to vanish I can't use the stupid Ring!
And then we're almost into Mordor when I'm suddenly aware
That the last turn led us straight into a giant spider's lair.
It lies heavy in my pocket like a red and lidless eye
I don't know how I can destroy it but I know I gotta try
It seems that recently I find,
No peace of mind,
This ring is gnawing on my mind!