The L-Space Web: Filks

Men of Lancre


From: MegaMole
Newsgroups: alt.fan.pratchett
Subject: [I] Men of Lancre
Date: Tue, 27 Jun 2000 18:35:25 +0100

As Joy published her Llamedosian filk this morning, I got a-thinkin' and produced the following humble offering, as might have been sung by Shawn Ogg to the assembled Lancre peasantry in Lords and Ladies.

Now, if anyone's got 4-part (mixed-voice) harmonies to this, could they please mail me?

TTTO Men of Harlech (of course)

Men of Lancre, plod to glory,
Witches fly on broomsticks o'er ye,
Threatened children weep before ye,
Will you lose them all?
At your laziness they wonder,
Magrat's bleeding - elves have stunned her,
Let pussiked-up marching thunder
Follow this my call.

Elves around us dancing,
Hills and vales entrancing:
Mortals scream in elvish dreams,
Around the moors a unicorn is prancing:
Lancre writhes in faerie glamour,
Fight them off with guts and clamour,
Jason - smack 'em with your hammer,
We will never yield.

What care we for elvish blizzards,
We've got allies, dwarves and wizards,
Apes who tear heads from their gizzards,
And the iron death!
We fight on, the soul of Lancre,
Tinker, tailor, merchant banker,
He who flees us is a... *pillock*,
Scumble on his breath.

See the faeries flying!
Wasps' nests heaped with dying!
One queen per hive and she's alive,
Our land to foes denying:
To a standstill we have fought them,
Love of conquest hither brought them,
But this lesson, we have taught them,
"Lancre ne'er can yield."

I'll just get my place where the sun does not shine, and take the nut away from the mon...

oook.


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