Duct Tape, Sex, and Booze (This Bitch Sings of Calontir)
(Tune is probably, once again, subconsciously plagiarized -- although it came from legitimate work on my part: if you listen, you can hear the bones of Owen Alun's "Hairy, Scary," the theme song from "Underdog," and "The Number Nine Coal" rattling around in there. Song sprung from a random comment by Chesey. I feel like just about everyone's going to get a song. I look forward to the day I can get Dahrien to thank me, so I can say, "De rien, Dahrien." Obviously, this is a clumsy riposte to "Death, Doom, and Gloom [This Song is from Calontir].")
(My beta said this doesn't work, it's angry and directionless and terrible, and I obviously don't understand the original but I am non-working, angry, directionless, and terrible, and don't understand mean-spirited and deliberately bad songs that poke fun at people for amplifying the voices that don't get enough airtime, so at least it's on-brand!)
So you camped near our fire,
and were shocked that the choir
Sat and drank down the moon and sang up the sun?
And you seem to think it wrong
That our stories and our songs
Celebrate the broken mad knights,
Not the windmills who won?
Well, I'm just one voice,
But it's here to make a noise,
For the losers, the forgotten, and the queer.
And until that rainy day,
When my heart's blood soaks the clay,
I will sing the songs of Calontir.
Well, the winners write the history,
And the scholars probe the mystery,
Of the stories that were trodden in the rust-brown mud,
Raise your head for vict'ry's crown,
I shall keep on looking down,
Valor resteth not on cloth-of-gold,
But runs with blood.
Well, I'm just one voice,
But I'm here to make a noise,
For the losers, the forgotten, and the queer.
And until that rainy day,
Where my heart's blood soaks the clay,
I will sing the songs of Calontir.
Oh, I fight a little too furious,
And I take my songs too serious,
In this world where right all too seldom makes might,
(And it's a weird and tacky flex
(for a bard to sing of sex,
(But you bet I'm getting laid tonight.1)
Well, I'm just one voice,
But I'm here to make a noise,
For the losers, the forgotten, and the queer.
And until that rainy day,
Where my heart's blood soaks the clay,
I will sing the songs of Calontir.
1Artistic license.
(My beta said this doesn't work, it's angry and directionless and terrible, and I obviously don't understand the original but I am non-working, angry, directionless, and terrible, and don't understand mean-spirited and deliberately bad songs that poke fun at people for amplifying the voices that don't get enough airtime, so at least it's on-brand!)
So you camped near our fire,
and were shocked that the choir
Sat and drank down the moon and sang up the sun?
And you seem to think it wrong
That our stories and our songs
Celebrate the broken mad knights,
Not the windmills who won?
Well, I'm just one voice,
But it's here to make a noise,
For the losers, the forgotten, and the queer.
And until that rainy day,
When my heart's blood soaks the clay,
I will sing the songs of Calontir.
Well, the winners write the history,
And the scholars probe the mystery,
Of the stories that were trodden in the rust-brown mud,
Raise your head for vict'ry's crown,
I shall keep on looking down,
Valor resteth not on cloth-of-gold,
But runs with blood.
Well, I'm just one voice,
But I'm here to make a noise,
For the losers, the forgotten, and the queer.
And until that rainy day,
Where my heart's blood soaks the clay,
I will sing the songs of Calontir.
Oh, I fight a little too furious,
And I take my songs too serious,
In this world where right all too seldom makes might,
(And it's a weird and tacky flex
(for a bard to sing of sex,
(But you bet I'm getting laid tonight.1)
Well, I'm just one voice,
But I'm here to make a noise,
For the losers, the forgotten, and the queer.
And until that rainy day,
Where my heart's blood soaks the clay,
I will sing the songs of Calontir.
1Artistic license.