More Bujold Filk - Part 9

These pages contain various filk songs relating to the work of Lois McMaster Bujold.

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Royal Courtship
by Pat Mathews
TTTO: "The Fox" or "The Battle of New Orleans"
Note: From the Curse of Chalion by Lois McMasters Bujold.

Iselle rode out of a winter's night
Prayed for the moon to give her light
For she'd many a mile to go that night
Before she reached her uncle, uncle, uncle
Many a mile to go that night
Before she reached her uncle

Her faithful handmaid by her side
Through the moonlight they did ride
Far too proud to run or hide
For she was Chalion's roya, roya, roya
Far too proud to run or hide
For she was Chalion's roya.

She rode till she came to her uncle's town
From her horse she got her down
And there bespoke her wedding gown
For she would sooon be married, married, married
There bespoke her wedding gown
For she would soon be married.

Her faithful man brought Ibra's royse
Brave and young, Iselle's own choice
And there they spoke in single voice
Our countries will be joined, oh, joined, oh, joined. oh
There they spoke in single voice
Our countries will be joined, oh.

On Daughter's Day the Chanc'lor came
There gave battle, to his shame
Proud and jealous, quick to blame
He called Iselle a traitor, traitor, traitor
Proud and jealous, quick to blame,
He called Iselle a traitor.

"So false ye speak," quoth Cazaril
Drew his sword with a right good will
And in the doorway stood so still
His life to give in battle, battle, battle
In the doorway stood so still
His life to give in battle.

Then murder did Dy Jironal
Pierced the guts of Cazaril
All unarmed and held so still
By Martou's frightened bravos, bravos, bravos
All unarmed and held so still
By Martou's frightened bravos.

The Goddess turned her noble head
Saw on Her day the blood run red
and outraged, struck the traitor dead
Who had profaned her feast day, feast day. feast day
Struck dy Jironal cold dead
Who had profaned her feast day

after the death of the villain, his men,
Ran through the bushes,
and they ran through the brambles,
and they ran through places where a rabbit wouldn't go.
They ran so fast Daughter's Soldiers couldn't catch them,
down Valenda Highway to the Port of Roknar-oh!

Iselle and Bergon took the throne
That had been her brother's own
Neither one would rule alone,
But each one as the other, other, other,
Neither one would rule alone
But each one as the other.

© 2003 Pat Mathews

Four and Twenty Listies
by Patricia Mathews
TTTO: "The Ball of Balliemuir". Note: a "listy" is a mailing list member, as used on the Bujold mailing list

Four and twenty listies went to the S/F Con
By the time the Con was over, there were four and twenty gone
Singing, mate to your partner, pawns against the wall
If ye canna make friends at an S/F Con, ye canna make friends at all.

The Chief of Security, he was there, filling up his cup
With Romulan ale and maple mead, and drinking the whole thing up!
Singing, masks to you partner, phasers to the wall
If ye canna make friends at an S/F Con, ye canna make friends at all.

The Saucy Programmer, she was there, baby-sitting nerds
And drawing furry fantasies of felinoids in herds
Singing, mouse to you partner, modem to the wall
If ye canna make friends at an S/F Con, ye canna make friends at all.

Two of them got married inside the gaming room
The bride was a Klingon admiral, you should have seen the groom!
Singing, bat'leth your partner, up against the wall
If you can't honeymoon at an S/F Con, you'd better not wed at all.

The great space artist, he showed up, but all the fans bought porn
And dragons, flying kittens, and each big-eyed unicorn
Singing, elves for your partner, starships on the wall
If you can't get great art at an S/F Con, you can't get great art at all.

The Con Suite attendants saw the people whine and pout
The sugar and the caffeine had started to run out
Singing, dip for your partner, Cokes against the wall
If you can't get junk food at an S/F Con, you're not going to eat at all.

The old Grand Master, he was there, signing ancient books
And giving any fan in skirts his famous, leering look
Singing, kilts on your partner, daggers in the wall
If ye can't tell a lad from a lassie, then ye shouldn't be here at all.

Predictions at the panel on High Tech, 3001
Said by then, it would be settled, whether Bush or Gore had won
Singing, recount your rivals, hand votes to the wall
If ye canna elect with Tenth Century tech, why bother to vote at all?

© 2003 Pat Mathews

Bujold Junkie [WLW!]
by Jerrie M. Adkins
TTTO: "Junkfood Junkie" by Larry Groce

In the "real world" I'm "literary",
Just as snooty as I can be,
But on-list I'm a Bujold junkie,
May Lois have pity on me!
[and write more books!]

But when I'm on that mailing-list
Or reading by myself,
I turn that combination
On that secret li'bry shelf;
I pull out some Ethan and Elli,
Caz and Miles, and all the rest,
And sit back in glorious expectation
Of a beauteous Bujold blast!

[oh, yes, I do--and so do you!]

© 2002 Jerrie M. Adkins

Miles Naismith Vorkosigan
by Eric Oppen
TTTO: "Mister Bad Example," by Warren Zevon

I started out in trouble before I got to hatch,
A guy tried using poison gas, my parents to dispatch,
They took me out of Mother, and put me in a jar,
And things that happened after that were crazier by far!

Vordarian revolted, to try to take the throne,
He thought that he could do a better job up there alone,
But when he stole my pre-born self, my mother got so mad,
She went on in, cut off his head, and brought it home to Dad!

I'm Miles Naismith Vorkosigan, the Regent's only son,
Nobody else could have survived one-half the things I've done,
I'm Miles Naismith Vorkosigan, genius, can't you see,
I want my father to be known for having fathered me!

The school I wanted to go to was the Academy,
But when I fell and broke myself, they had no place for me,
And so I went off into space, got soldiers of my own,
And won a war, impressing Gregor up there on his throne.

And then at the Academy I learned the trade of war,
And graduated knowing things I hadn't known before.
They sent me off to Kyril Island, watching for a storm
Protesting naked in the Arctic's no way to stay warm!

I'm Miles Naismith Vorkosigan, I'm General Metzov's bane,
I managed to remove him, through frostbite and through pain,
I'm Miles Naismith Vorkosigan, Impsec's newest recruit,
So low upon the totem pole I don't get a salute!

They sent me off to Cockroach Central, gave me things to do
And then one day they yanked me out and threw me in the stew
For Gregor had gone missing, no one knew where he was,
They couldn't seem to find him and ImpSec was in a buzz!

They sent me to the Hegen Hub, in deep disguise, you know,
And there it was that I first met Commander Cavilo.
Her mind is like a can of worms, she's lethal, blond and short
She did some things with Gregor that are not in my report!

I'm Miles Naismith Vorkosigan, I've foiled Cavilo's plot
My dad and Gregor are delighted, though Cavilo's not.
I'm Miles Naismith Vorkosigan, with a lieutenancy
I'm driving Simon Ilyan mad with all my lunacy!

I got sent off to Cetaganda, to a funeral,
With Cousin Ivan sent with me, I thought it would be dull.
I then met some haut-ladies, and Ivan met the ghem,
I've got to say my cousin made quite a hit with them!

It turned out the late Empress had hatched a Cunning Plan
To speed up the haut's project, the new post-human man.
She wanted to divide the work not have it in one place,
Some ba, some ghem, and some haut ended up in deep disgrace.

I'm Miles Naismith Vorkosigan, I saved the day once more,
I kept the Cetagandans from a bloody civil war,
I'm Miles Naismith Vorkosigan, the medal that I got
Is quite enough all by itself to once have got me shot!

© 2003 Eric Oppen

Vorkosigan Surleau
by Ginnilee P Berger (Lady Lavender of Teal)
TTTO: Enya's Orinoco Flow

Let me fly, let me fly to Vorkosigan Surleau,
Let me dock, let us flock on-stat'n in Quaddie Space,
Let me fly, let me fly, let me crash upon your dome,
Let me jump, let me plunk far beyond Tau Ceti's lunar face

From Rho to Eta, in the Cetagandan Empire,
From Komarr to Sergyar of Barrayar-er,
From Athos to Kline, hear of skewered lizard meat,
From Beta to Graf, far across the galaxy

From Marilac to Jackson's Whole, Pol into Escobar,
From the Hegen Hub to planet Vervain,
Carry me in your jumpship to Dagoola IV,
Carry me in your jumpship to Dagoola IV

We can fly, we can fly.....
We can see, we will flee Enrique and his butter bugs,
We can wink, say goodbye Ivan and his Ceta girls,
We can fly, we can fly.....

Being both an Enya fan and a LMB fan, I was in the shower when this tune suggested itself to me. I figured both travelled a lot in the stories presented, and I couldn't resist putting LMB to Enya. I give thanks to my co-workers who suffered me working on it at the info desk, and my store manager for not making take down the signs I made out of signs I was supposed to toss. One said, "Independent Thinking, Independent Press. It now says, "Independent Thinking Leads to Trouble" Another sign read "Local Interest" It now says "Local Interest Flags" It was working on this filk that made me think of changing the signs, so it's on-topic. Herself is just too encouraging in her sense of humor.

© 2003 Ginnilee P Berger (Lady Lavender of Teal)

Vorkoverse Genetics
by Mary Downs
TTTO: "Eddystone Light"

The Vorkoverse races all began as Homo sap.s,
But Genetic Engineering has created some gaps.
Quaddies' four limbs each end in a hand,
They're designed for space instead of land.
They can live on a planet, as Nicol will see,
But prefer their lives in no grav-i-tee.

A Betan herm may seem a bit strange,
But equality of sexes could make a nice change.
Most of the herms tend to stay in Quartz,
Where they aren't considered genetic sports.
When a herm falls in love, it takes its mate,
And goes to the Orb to rec-re-ate.

One of a kind jobs are done for a fee,
Like fangs for Taura or boobs for Maree,
But Miles and Taura cooked Ry's saved tissues,
And made the Baron get downright vicious.
Then Mark's Black Gang met the wicked Baron,
And now Ryoval is 'way past caring.

The Cetagandan haut are the scariest bunch,
They can whip up a plague that'll have you for lunch.
Their genetics were strange, maybe even bizarre,
Now they've added a sample from Barrayar!
But Cordelia's going to want to bring home
All the Cetagandan babies with Miles' genome.

It's surely an honor to give genes to the haut,
However, Miles really ought to take note,
That while these accolades he is winning,
Check the graveyard--Count Piotr is spinning.
And Aral's got to feel some consternation,
When he finds he's grandda to a haut constellation.

Genetic cleaning is the newest trick,
If your genes mutate, just fix them quick,
Then cook up your kids without any travail,
Because once they arrive it's a different tale.
So let's give a cheer for technology,
The Vorkoverse is the place to be.

Don't ask me why I did this. I'm not musical or poetic, as you can see. It just sort of wrote itself. The death-demon made me do it, or something.

© 2003 Mary Downs

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All filks © 2002-2003 the original authors.

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Last updated: August 10th 2003
Originally Uploaded: January 19th 2003