by Marc Gunn, Oct 16, 2008

I wanted a new song for my Elysium Space Madness show, and I wanted it to be about Star Trek. So I threw together this parody the night before the show. It's based on the song "A Drop of Nelson's Blood".

A drop of Vulcan blood wouldn't do us any harm
And we'll all hang on behind

We'll roll the old Enterprise along.
We'll roll the old Enterprise along.
We'll roll the old Enterprise along.
And we'll all hang on behind.

A plate of Gagh...

Neelix in the kitchen...

An order from Kirk...

A holodeck msytery...

An Orion slave girl...

A transwarp drive...

Delta Quandrant...

Seven of Nine...

A round on Quark...

Some Romulan ale...

If the Borg are in the way, we'll roll right over them.

by Marc Gunn, May 30, 2007

I'm not sure where my fascination with Samwise Gamgee of Lord of the Rings came from, but he is one of my favorite song subjects. He is a good-hearted loyal friend to Frodo. Without him, Frodo would never have succeeded. I recorded this song for my CD, What Color Is Your Dragon?.

I never guessed the kind of trouble that was waiting for me
When Old Bilbo took me in
He was an odd kind a hobbit, but I didn't care
He was family and my friend
But on our birthday
He gave me his ring
And then Gandalf got all sour
He told Samwise to aid me
In the destruction of the Ring of Power

Oh Samwise Gamgee was my best of friends
As loyal as a friend can be
He did so much more than gardening
He listened and took care of me.
And on Weathertop
When I was stabbed
By the Ring Wraith, I was frail
Sam was there by my side
Every moment in Rivendale

Somewhere in the dark shadows of Mount Doom
I guess I must have lost my mind
But Sam was there to carry me
Only friend's are so blind
Without him I fear
The Dark Lord would prevail
And Middle-Earth would fall
I'm thankful, Samwise. Cuz you taught me
A real friend will help when you need crawl.

by Marc Gunn

I wrote this song in September, 2007. It began with a riff on the autoharp. It was raining outside, so I just singing some random lyrics into my digital recorder. Then I refined the story, re-recorded it with instrumentation and loved the danceable fun feel of the song. I added it to my CD, What Color Is Your Dragon?.

Out of the rain, I came a-wandering
Out of the rain, I swayed.
I was wet. I was filled with sorrow
From the love that I left in the glade.

She said to me, "Sweep me away and marry me."
Thought to myself, "I will."
But when I came a-knocking on her front door.
She said, "I'm in love still."

ch.
How do you tell a woman you're in love with her
When she's in love with a different man?
How do you listen when she touts her loneliness
And won't accept your hand.

My mouth was dry as I listened to her story.
And we strolled through the hillside gate.
She said her love was in love with another girl.
And my angel would wait.

I tried to tell her, "Why wait for another man
When I'm in love with you?
Take my hand and I will marry you,
She sent me from her view.

by traditional

I love this song! I remember when I was younger, my dad would sing this to me. I think he'd heard the Smother's Brothers perform it, and my dad loves to perform. I think he took extreme delight in singing the woman's part, and I do too. It's on my CD, What Color Is Your Dragon?.

It was early last September
As near as I can remember
While strolling down a lane in tipsy pride
Not a word did I utter
As I lay down in the gutter
When this pig came up and lay there by my side

Not a soul was I disturbing
As I lay there by the curbing
When this high toned lady come
And I heard her say
You can tell a man who boozes
By the company he chooses

So the pig got up and slowly walked away

by Marc Gunn, early 90s

I wrote this song in college. It wasn't supposed to be any grand masterpiece, just a stupid, catchy song. For some strange reason, I added it to my CD, What Color Is Your Dragon?.

If I were a horse and you were a mule,
My heart would break all the same.
I'd cry on your tail. All the while would I wail
And refuse to eat my grain.

Oh, listen to this sad story.
Take head to the message I don't purvey.
Cuz it'll make you feel blue, and I'll cry boo hoo.
And I'll have to blow snot on my sleeve.

If I were pig and you were a hog,
Would that make us compatible or insane.
We'd roll in the mud, and we'd hug, and we'd hug.
And we'd play all day in the rain.

If I were a cat, and you were a dog,
Would you love me or tear me in two.
Bite off my tail, rip the whiskers from my cheeks,
And spill all my blood in the street.

Did you listen to this sad story?
Did you take head to the message I didn't purvey?
Cuz it'll make you feel blue, and you'll cry boo hoo.
And you'll have to blow snot on your shirt.

by Marc Gunn

This song started with a riff on the autoharp. When i had that down, I just started writing a stream of conscience song about a girl I had a crush on. It evolved into a bluesy song that I recorded for my CD, What Color Is Your Dragon?.

Sometimes my empathy is overwhelming.
I feel like I can get inside your head.
But there are times like last night
When it feels like a fight
To shade my love and fear
To watch where you tread.

I gotta admit that I am in love with you.
And now and then I hear you say the same.
But you live so far away
And patience seems so gray
That I can't tell if your love
Is just a dwindling flame.

I've a friend who helps me fly with my dreams.
Then he drops me, and I crash into the sea.
Now I swirl in despair
Wondering if you care
Enough to keep my dreams
From falling to debris.

I'm not sure what I need to allay my fears.
I don't expect you to give more than you've done.
But I'm in flight with my love,
And the winds are rather rough.
So I just hope that you'll join me
For the setting sun.

by Cara Chapel

In 2007 and 2008, the Brobdingnagian Bards hosted a vacation tour of Ireland with their fans. During the first tour, we were in need of dinner on our first night of the tour. We stopped off in the only pub that still had a kitchen open. We ordered our food, and it was quite pathetic. Cara had ordered chicken that looked so tiny we joked it most be "the last chicken in dublin". I think that's when I said, "That sounds like a song. You write and I'll record it." Cara wrote the song. I added the melody and we added it to my CD, What Color Is Your Dragon?.

There's many a tale
In these lands fit for tellin'
And some of them sad,
Like to bring the tears welling.
But if you don't find
These few stanzas too troublin'
I'll sing the song of
The last chicken in Dublin.

There once was a cock
Who lived down in the barnyard
It won't be a shock
That his life wasn't too hard.
Cooped up with the hens
Or in morning time crowing
He lived like a king
And had no thought of going.

But life is quite cruel
When you're only a chicken.
You soon learn the rule:
Folks find you finger-lickin'.
The farmer came out
With a cleaver and hatchet;
The cock saw a train
And he flew off to catch it.

The train took him far
To the east of the country
The cock thought 'twas fine:
"I shall dwell with the gentry!"
He got off the train
At the Connolly Station
'Twas then he became
The last chicken in Dublin.

Now, Dublin's a town
Full of hardship and famine;
There's plenty of beer,
But best not ask for gammon.
So when the poor cock
Flapped his wings and went looking
To find him some corn,
He was ripe for the cooking.

He met with a maid
Who was pushing a trolley;
She gave him a look;
Thus he first knew his folly.
He flew with a squawk
When she lunged for his gullet;
She had to go back
To her job: selling mullet.

He sat on the stoop
And he ruffled his feathers
And almost got caught
By a fellow in leathers.
The pounce of a cat
Missed but made his heart quicken;
Things just don't look good
For that hapless last chicken.

"Alas that I came!"
Crowed the cock in high dudgeon.
"I never!" and then
He was struck with a bludgeon.
They plucked him all bare
And hung him from the ceiling
Though it wasn't fair
And was cold and unfeeling.

Now I must not fail,
Out of motives the purest,
To tell the true tale:
He was fed to a tourist.
And as of this date,
In a pot he is bubblin'.
Let's drink to his fate:
The last chicken in Dublin!

by Michael Donley

"The Unicorn Song" was originally written by Shel Silverstein. It had a sad ending that I didn't like. So I convinced Andrew to change the ending. When the Brobdingnagian Bards recorded the song, it became one of our most-popular performances. That's when our friend Michael Donley filked it using the Lord of the Rings as the subject of his filk. I loved the parody and after many years, I finally recorded it for my CD, What Color Is Your Dragon?.

A long time ago, when Middle Earth was green
There were all kinds of monsters that you've never seen
They'd run around and slay to enforce the Dark Lord's rule
But the deadliest of all were the nine Nazgul

There were mean cave troll bashers and drakes with wings
Some ugly black goblins and some Nameless Things
Some worgs and wraiths and oliphants but the most cruel;
The deadliest of all were the nine Nazgul

Well the Dark Lord lost his finger, and it gave him pain
He cried, "Find that which was called Isildur's Bane"
He says, "Hey Witch King Angmar this I command to you:
Kill Sam and Frodo too, (Then I'll rule with all of those...)

Mean cave troll bashers and drakes with wings
Some ugly black goblins and some Nameless Things
Some worgs and wraiths and oliphants but don't be a fool
Don't disappoint me Lord of the Nazgul

The Witch King was there to answer the call
He reached the Shire just as dusk started to fall
He sliced through the guardsmen two by two
And called out with each he slew. Hey Lord!...

I've seen mean cave troll bashers and drakes with wings
Some ugly black goblins and some Nameless Things
Some worgs and wraiths and oliphants but Lord of the Nazgul
Finally, found the Hobbits near Amon Sul

Then the Nazgul chased Frodo through the open plain
Until the Fords of Bruinen they finally came
Wading and splashing through the river cool
Oh those silly nine Nazgul. They were better than...

The mean cave troll bashers and drakes with wings
Some ugly black goblins and some Nameless Things
The Witch King cried get the ring my nazgul
Nothings going to hurt us in this oversized pool.

Well, Gandalf was there at the other side
The nazgul looked up from the rocks and they cried
And then river horses came down and sort of washed them away
That's why you'll never see a Nazgul to this very day

Nor mean cave troll bashers and drakes with wings
Some ugly black goblins and some Nameless Things
Some worgs and wraiths and oliphants but be glad you fool
You don't live in fear of the nine Nazgul.

Now you might think this is the ending to the song
But I have to tell you friends that in fact you'd be wrong
Because Nagul, well, they're magical so when the river started roarin'
They got some mounts with wings as a gift from Sauron

Over the mean cave troll bashers and drakes with wings
Some ugly black goblins and some Nameless Things
But if you're looking for the Nazgul, can't wait for more
The Witch King dies to Eowyn at the Battle Pel'nor.

by Marc Gunn, July 19, 2008

I've been wanting to write another Firefly song for a long time. Today, I decided there was no stopping me, and it would be a drinking song. So I flipped on Jaynestown and watched it a couple times. As I stepped out the door to go grab a bite to eat, the lyrics flooded into me. So I came home and recorded the song.

(Won't you) Pour me a glass
Of Monahan's Mudders Milk
We'll wash the mud away.
If you poor me a glass
Of Monahan's Mudders Milk
We'll leave Higgins' damn Moon some day.

I was 12 years old
When my daddy brought me here
With two brothers who loved to laugh,
But 10-20 in this muddy hole
We lost the laughing muscle mold
And my brothers lost their lives to mudders gas.

My daddy raised one fist
To tell the boss he's pissed,
Another to the foreman on third shift,
But when he raised his shovel
To protest his low wage troubles
He was shot down and dumped in a muddy ditch.

Well mudden's all I know
Until I've 'nough to go
And take my own three boys far from here.
Maybe another place much worse
In this here cold Verse
Till then I drink my Monahan's for cheer.

Pour me, pour me, mudder, mudder, mudder me,
Mudder, mudder me my milk.
Poor me, mudder me, mudder, mudder marry me
Mudder marry me my milk.

by Diane Frost

In 2005, I received an email from a fan with lyrics parodying one of the songs performed by Brobdingnagian Bards called "The Lusty Young Smith". This one was a funny Star Wars parody called "The Lusty Young Sith". I loved the lyrics and saved them for that time in the future when I would sit down and record the parody... because that's what I do. It finally happened earlier this year when I started working on a new CD called What Color Is Your Dragon?. The album is now done. I'm happy to have this great filk included on the new CD.

A lusty young Sith by his ship stood a fighting,
His cowl thrown back and his saber aglow,
For to him a wholesome young Jedi came gliding
To struggle and fight and her skill for to show.

With a hum hum hum Hum hum hum
In and out In and out
Hum hum hum Hum hum hum
In and out In and out Ho!

"Your form," said the Sith, "well it is quite impressive."
The Jedi replied, "I've worked hard to be so."
Then they went back at it; the Sith was aggressive,
The Jedi returning each thrust blow for blow.

Her Master, she said, had grown tired and sour,
His strength in the Force faded out long ago.
The Sith retorted, "Well I'm quite thick with power,
"And I have much stamina, more than you know."

Red hot grew his saber through arduous labor;
The Jedi grew tired going at her foe.
It seemed at first Fate chose the Jedi to favor,
But soon she came gasping and thrashed to and fro.

Six times did his saber by vigorous thrusting
Thus force the young Jedi from high point to low,
But after a rest they fell back to it lusting,
And Sith each time thrusting recoiled more slow.

At last said the Jedi, in awe of his saber,
"What would I give could my Master do so!
"I ask you, young Sith, come spar here with me later,
"But do me one more round before you do go."

by Karen D. Mitchell

The cats we find are sometimes the sweetest cats on the planet in this parody of "May Morning Dew" from my CD, Whiskers in the Jar: Irish Songs for Cat Lovers.

One sunny June morning as I played in the grass,
I heard a loud meowing beneath my neighbor’s house.
When I peered into the darkness, my heart it pounced anew.
I found the friend I'd wished for in the orange kitten's mew.

I set him in a basket and showed him to my mom,
his wee head under his tail and small body so calm.
I said if I can keep him, there's nothing I won't do,
for my soul was enchanted by the orange kitten's mew.

Dad said we could only keep him 'till he found a new home.
Then the months scurried by; soon the kitten was full grown.
Each evening he and dad cuddled in the living room.
Dad had fallen under the spell of the orange kitten's mew.

Almost five years later, Tiger still brings us much joy,
crying for belly rubs and batting ‘round his toy.
The family is blessed to know a cat so loving and true.
Our lives were changed forever by the orange kitten’s mew.

by Lynn McKinney

This parody of the Scottish song "Henry Martin" tells the story of a cat who goes mousing on the high seas. It gets a little bloody when the cat finds a rat on this latest song on my CD, Whiskers in the Jar: Irish Songs for Cat Lovers.

There were three cat brothers in merry Scotland;
In merry Scotland there were three.
And they did cast lots which of them should go, Should go, should go
And turn mouser all on the salt sea.

The lot it fell first upon Kitty Martin,
The fiercest of all of the three.
That he should turn mouser all on the salt sea, Salt sea, salt sea
To maintain a fine vessel rat-free.

He had not been sailing but a long winter's night
And part of a short winter's day,
Before he espied a large fat grey rat, Fat grey rat, fat grey rat
Come creeping down at him straight way.

"Meow! Meow!" Cried Kitty Martin;
"What makes you slink so nigh?"
"I'm a poor rodent bound for that sack of grain, Sack of grain, sack of grain.
Will you please for to let me pass by?"

"Meow! Meow!" Cried Kitty Martin;
"That thing it never could be!
For I am turned mouser all on the salt sea, Salt sea, salt sea
To maintain a fine vessel rat-free.

"Come, lower your pink tail and write up your will,
And bring yourself over to me;
For I will chase you and your cousins all, Cousins all, cousins all,
Your dead bodies I'll eat with my tea."

"Oh no! I won't lower my slender pink tail,
Nor bring myself over to thee!
And you shan't take from me my dear rodent life, Rodent life, rodent life
Nor force me to jump in the sea."

With tooth, claw, and squealing, hard at it they went,
For fully two hours or three,
Till Kitty Martin gave to him the death bite, The death bite, the death bite,
And straight down the gullet went he.

Bad news, bad news to rat cousins came;
Bad news to rats soon came 'round.
"There's been a poor rodent and he's passed away,
Passed away, passed away!
And now the cat runs us aground."

by Matt McGinn

This song by Scottish songwriter, Matt McGinn, is a a classic story of an old woman and her cat. It's known in Scotland as "The Dundee Cat" and it's on my CD Whiskers in the Jar: Irish Songs for Cat Loversc.

In an attic flat in Dundee town,
A poor old woman spread the tale around
That she lived all her life in her old top flat
With no company but her old tom cat

Fifty years in a wee top flat
The poor old woman and her old tom cat

Now one night they sat by the fire quite glum
When who do you think came down the lum (chimney)
I'm your fairy Godmother, so have no fear
To grant three wishes they sent me here

The old woman looked down at her empty purse
I could always use some cash of course
The fairy godmother waved her wand around
And lying on the floor was ten thousand pounds

Now a lovely figure and a face divine
For just one night I wish were mine
Says the fairy godmother, "I'll have a go!"
And she made her look like Marilyn Monroe.

This lovely girl by the fire she sat
She turned her attention to the old tom cat
He's my only love so here's my plan
Tonight please make him a handsome man

This handsome man at last drew near,
And he whispered softly in her ear.
The night is young but you'll regret
The day you took me to the vet...!!!

by Jean Prior, Nancy Pearsall, Marc Gunn

What happens when a bunch of cats hear that the dairy farm is on fire? It turn into a kitty free-for-all with cats flying from rafters and partying till the cows come home in this parody of "Old Dun Cow" from my CD, Whiskers in the Jar: Irish Songs for Cat Lovers.

Some friends and I in a milkman's truck
Were eating catnip one night
When into the truck a tomcat jumped
His scraggly face gone white.
"What's up", says Tom, "Have you seen a dog,
Or has our milkman retired?"
"Milkman retired? Fft hiss!", says he,
"The dairy farms' on fire!"

And there were toms stretched up and down
Lappin' up the milk on the floor.
"My Cream, Cream!" the farmer cried
As he came knockin' on the door (clap clap)
Oh don't let him in till it's all lapped up
Then somebody shouted Mreow! MREOW!
And we all drank milk till the cows came home
When the dairy farm caught fire.

"Mew," says Tom, "What a bit of luck!
Everybody follow me
And it's out to the barn
If the fire's there
Then we'll have milk for free."
We chased Tom down nipping his heels
Then into the milk pond flipped
And we hadn't been there ten minutes or more
Till we were all quite 'nipped.

Percy sauntered over to a water pail
And pawed at it as he gagged (cough cough)
Started takin' off his flea collar
Likewise his rabies tags.
"Hold on, " says Tom, "that ain't allowed
Ya can't do that thing here.
Why go washing your tags in the wat'ring trough
When milk's coming out our ears?"

Then there came from the old barn door
A collie from across the street
And when he saw three hundred cats
He took a ringside seat
He nipped at tails in good clean fun
Splashed milk on a cat or three
And just to show there was no harm done,
He licked their whiskers clean.

And then there came a mighty splash
Fur flew to and fro
Leaping from the rafters' flames
Into the pails below.
"Well, we're safe here," a Persian mewed
Paddling in the foam,
"This here's a bath I'd get used to
They won't believe back home!"

When the sun came up, the fire was out
We rolled across the floor
The barn was burned. The milk was drunk.
There wasn't any more.
Tom stretched his legs, said, "Good job, lads!"
Raised his tail up higher,
"There's dairies all along this road.
Let's set them all on fire!"

by Lynn McKinney

Ever notice how cats stare off into nothingness? You can't help but wonder what they're thinking. Watch out if you try to help them decide. This parody of my song "Johnny at the Door" is on my CD Whiskers in the Jar: Irish Songs for Cat Lovers.

Kitty awoke on a crisp winter morn;
And looked through the door at the hill.
And he mewed to mistress to show his distress
As he made his way to the sill.
But the wind was sharp and cold that day;
And the rustling grass caused him fears,
So kitty sat with the door open
Not moving except for his ears, singing...

"I'll go outside a while;
But then, I might just stay in.
Yes, I'll sit and think a bit
And I'll neither go out nor stay in."

It was a cold morning, went straight to his bones
Oh, he wished that he had him a mouse.
Just one loud squeak, and he'd eat for a week;
But he'd have to go out of the house.
Oh his mouth watered with the thought of mice
But it was too cold to decide,
And not even threats could make him step through
The door, and saunter outside. He sang...

Kitty sat there half the day
And into the house wind did moan;
And he thought about each dire consequence
Of the things he might do all alone.
Oh, he might wet his paws, or break hunting laws,
Or catch a fat mouse for his prey.
He might meet his end, or he might meet a friend.
But still he just sat and he'd say...

His mistress came to the end of her rope
And she gave a terrible shout.
With the knob in her hand and an evil grin
'Twas her toe, that shoved kitty out!
Kitty fluffed out his fur as he sat on the stoop
And he gave her a baleful green glare,
It was cold on his toes, and his little wet nose.
"You can't make me go out of my lair!" He said...

When the door slid open, a cold wind blew in
And there sat the cat in a crouch.
With a bird in his jaws and fresh mud on his paws,
The bad kitty jumped up on the couch!
"Here's a gift for you!" and away the bird flew
As he tracked the mud on the chair.
"You should know better, when I'm deep in thought!
You can't make me get off of my rear!" He sang...

by Nancy e. Pearsall, Feb 9, 2008

I came up with the idea for this song over two years ago, but every time I sat down to write it, the words never came out. Then as the deadline for recording the new Irish Songs for Cat Lovers CD, I asked my friend Nancy to come write and edit a couple songs with me. The very next day, she had a bit of inspiration and wrote this song better than I ever could. This parody of "Whiskey in the Jar" is available on the same-titled CD, Whiskers in the Jar: Irish Songs for Cat Lovers.

As I was throwin' pennies like wishes in a fountain
I heard two women talking 'bout their babies and recountin'
How one had lost a tooth already, giggling and merry
They joked about inflation for the stork and the Tooth Fairy

Mush a ring dum a doo dum a da
Whack for my daddy'o
Whack for my mommy'o, there's
Whiskers in the jar

I chuckled when I saw a pillow lifted, and a penny
Being hurled across the bedroom, and replaced it with a twenty
I sighed with relief that my cats would never bleed me ---
But admitted there were times I rather wished I had a baby

Well later on that night, I drove home to my apartment
Was greeted by my kitties, and refilled their food and water
And there beside the feeding bowl was a whisker on the carpet
"Kind of like a baby tooth" I thought, and so I saved it

'Twas early the next morning, I placed upon the mantel
Another that I spotted watching "Sleepless in Seattle"
Before too long, the few had grown into a small collection
And I'll admit it's odd, but I regard them with affection

Some parents push their daughters in the carriages out strolling
And others take their sons to soccer, baseball or out bowling
But I shop for catnip, making sure that it's organic
And brag on my cats' cleverness with pride that is gigantic

When friends of mine come over and they see my jar of whiskers
I assured them it's not voodoo, and eventually they snicker
And when my cats are gone, and I'm beside myself all lonesome
That jar will come in handy for the day I want to clone them

music by Redhill Rats, words by Peg Kerr

The Redhill Rats are a Celtic folk rock group of Helsinki, Finland. I loved their song "My Father Was a Werewolf". So when I found an author who wrote a Harry Potter filk of the song, I got excited and decided to record the filk. Download the song from my Marc Songs Podcast.

My father was a werewolf, a Marauder, one of four
Who joined the Order and who fought for Albus Dumbledore
My mother was an auror brave who sped upon her broom
and loved the man with the scarred up face whose boggart was the moon

Lord Voldemort rose again; I heard he caused some harm
with cruel men in the silver masks and the Dark Mark on their arms
Those Deatheaters had no fear, no shame and no remorse
There were burning houses left behind and a hundred broken doors

Come all ye wizards, hear the story of the ones that fell
Buy me Fire whiskey and a beer, and heed the tale I tell
If you have chocolate about you, repel those Dementors
and if this story spooks your wits, I'll tell you something more.

On a night-time visit he encountered some old friends
and told them he was leaving, that his marriage he must end
When Harry called him coward, the wolf rose in his eyes
But he left to go back home to her and to apologize

The Whomping Willow stands right there behind a wooded hill
And I cannot pass by there without thinking about him still
The Shrieking Shack stands in that field, its windows all a-gape,
Haunted by his memory and the ghost of Severus Snape

I believe he truly loved her, but both left me behind
and fell in battle fighting for the rest of wizardkind
My mother was an auror, my godfather’s the Chosen One,
But my father was a werewolf and I am a werewolf's son
Yes, my father was a werewolf, that makes me a werewolf's son.

by Marc Gunn, November 26, 2007

This song was an experiment in my Pub Songs Podcast. My goal was to write a song off the cuff. People would give me words and I would take those words and write a song. I think the words for this song were: Dr. Who, ladybug, hypernova, and mailbox. Overall, it kinda worked. I could see this episode. You can find it on my CD What Color Is Your Dragon?.

I heard a loud sound outside my drugstore
So I stuck out my head
A man stepped out of a blue telephone box
And this is what he said,

"Last night, with the help of that mailbox
A hypernova gave birth
Last night with the help of that mailbox
I saved the planet earth."

He told me how an alien wrote a short letter
As an introduction to the human race
But when he licked the envelope, the glue touched his tongue
And a hypernova collapsed in its place.

This hypernova sent waves of destruction in its path
A ladybug was the first to see, it's true
She realized it could not pass through the steal mailbox
So she telephoned her friend, The Doctor. Who?

Well The Doctor he appeared outside the drugstore
The letter he dropped in the mailbox
Five minutes later he opened up the box and earth was saved
Then The Doctor was arrested by the cops. He cried...

by Marc Gunn & Andrew McKee, 12/17/2002

Ah! What beautiful seventy-degree weather we're having. So much so, I was inspired to write a song. We recorded it on our CD "Christmas in Brobdingnag, Vol. 1".

There's no white Christmas day
less you drive a white Chevrolet
You won't hear sleigh bells ringing
less the Salvation Army is Santa-ing
In your...Christmas time in Texas.

And if you feel the holiday blues,
Go outside with no shoes
And when Santa Claus arrives,
He’ll be wearing SPF 45
In your...Christmas time in Texas.

O The sun is shining bright.
Don't expect snowflakes tonight.
And if you hear Kris Kringle outside
His sleigh won't get stuck,
He's flying in style In his monster truck
During Christmas time in Texas.

So don't bother with Christmas lights.
Buy your cold winter clothing half-price.
Then the presents beneath your tree,
Will all smell just like mesquite.
In your... Christmas time in Texas.

O The sun is shining bright.
Don't expect snowflakes tonight.
Santa, won’t come down your chimney
That’s not what their for,
In Texas we're friendly. He'll use the front door.
During Christmas time in Texas.

Christmas morning, you will hope
In your stocking, there's a new rope
Forget eggnog. Drink lite beer
As you wrastle your new steer
In your...Christmas time in Texas.

O The sun is shining bright.
Don't expect snowflakes tonight.
And if you hear in your chimney,
A man that is stuck.
Load up your shotgun. This stranger is Fu… in trouble.
During Christmas time in Texas.

by Marc Gunn, July 10, 2004

Falling in love is a funny thing. It's often not very rational. You just fall. Even if you shouldn't. I recorded it for my non-typical love songs CD A Tribute to Love.

They call me crazy
For falling in love with you.
I know I'm hasty
But I can't waste another sunset
Or I'll be upset
Without you,
Without you.

The blush in your cheeks
Is like the sun's reddish streaks
The way you pace uncomfortably
You make my legs feel weak.
I see that you're
As nervous as me
And I don't care, I don't care.

Your eyes says please kiss me
But you're less ready than I am
So I'll hold you 'til morning
Our bodies will entwine
Like the morning glory vine
I'll hold you, I'll hold you.

(The) Morning glory blossom white
Like your skin last night
In streams the morning light
As I hold you so tight
Is there any hope you might
Be the one for me
I just can't care, I just can't care.

I won't analyze it.
Let's just let our love shine through
And if we embrace it
Perhaps that's the key
Of love twixt you and me
If we'll just dare, Oh let's just dare.

The morning glory blossoms white
Like your skin last night
In streams the morning light
As I hold you so tight
Is there any hope you might
Be the one for me
I'm ready to dare, Because I care
I'm ready to dare, How I care.

KEY C

bridge:
F C G7

verse:
C C7
F C
C C7
F C
G
C

chorus:
F
C
F
C
F
C
G7
C

words and music traditional

I learned this song from my dad. These are the lyrics he used to sing to me as a kid. It was always a favorite song, which is why I recorded for my CD, "A Tribute to Love".

Frogg went a-courtin' and he did go, uh-huh
Frogg went a-courtin' and he did go, uh-huh
Frogg went a-courtin' and he did go
To the Coconut Grove for a midnight show,
Uh-huh un-huh un-huh

Froggie sauntered down to Mollie Mouse's side, woo-woo
Froggie sauntered down to Mollie Mouse's side, woo-woo
Froggie sauntered down to Mollie Mouse's side
Said, "Hey there, Mollie would you be my bride?"
Woo-woo woo-woo woo-woo

Not without my Uncle Rat's consent, nuh-uh
Not without my Uncle Rat's consent, nuh-uh
Not without my Uncle Rat's consent
I would not marry the President,
Nuh-uh nuh-uh nuh-uh

She said "That's it, Clyde, better hit the road, farewell.
That's it, Clyde, better hit the road, goodbye.
That's it, Clyde, better hit the road
You ain't no frog you're a horny toad,
Farewell, goodbye, adios
Farewell, goodbye, adios"

by Marc Gunn, June 13, 2007

I received an email while I was in Ireland for a contest by SerenityStuff.com to write a song about Saffron (or YoSaffBridge), the beautiful and manipulative vixen from Firefly. She was one of my favorite bad guys in the show. And being in Ireland, a melody came easy. I wrote the song to "May Morning Dew", a beautiful Irish ballad. The song was added to my CD, What Color Is Your Dragon?.

I met her on the Outer Rim.
She was a beauty. There's no denial.
We danced around the fire that night.
In the morning, I awoke all smiles.
But when my boat hit atmo,
And she said that we were married.
T'was then I vowed I'd never again
Leave quick when I should tarry.

She said her name was Saffron,
A prize for work done well.
I know we'd done some good works,
But this time I guess excelled.
For her smile it made my legs weak,
And her breasts they made me wheeze.
Oh if I were a different man,
Then I'd show her the Real me.

That night I found her in my bunk
Lying naked in my bed.
She gave me the Goodnight Kiss
And I thought that I was dead.
We'd all be but for Inara...
Oh, I wonder how she knew?
But what I really wish is I could've seen
The kiss between those two.

But that's not the point of this song, right now,
From this lesson I learnt too well.
If you take strange women into your bed
You may go to the Special Hell.
Either pin her down or set her free
Just don't let your plan go South.
If that doesn't work, follow Jayne's advice,
"Never kiss them on the mouth."

by Marc Gunn, March 11, 2007

The idea for this song began three years ago at DragonCon. I went drinking with hobbits on Friday. By Sunday, I had no voice left (okay, it was actually the Con crude, but still...). Ever since then, I thought I should write a song about why you shouldn't go drinking with hobbits from Lord of the Rings. And maybe one day, I'll record a CD of hobbit drinking songs. It would be fun to do. From my CD What Color Is You Dragon?.

Don't go drinking with hobbits.
Sure you'll have a grand time all night long.
But if you're not used to drinking with hobbits,
You may not want to wake up at all.

They were thoughtful and kind when they invited me to drink,
A lone human among hobbitkind.
They bought me a half, then another and one more
And told stories of days long gone by.

The brew was strong. My glass never empty,
As if time stood still and bare.
But when I awoke the next morning
I felt like Old Smaug had been there.

You may wonder how it all happened.
Well, I'm still wondering what happened too.
I had tea, dinner, and supper.
Quite full, I thought I was through.

They insisted I come to the Flagon
And join in a toast to new friends.
But when I go there, I met more hobbit friends
And the toasts seemed never to end.

When the sun it rose the next morning,
And I lifted my head from the drool,
There were beer mugs spilled on the table
And hobbits lying next to their stools.

A young hobbit lass grinned cross the barroom
And nudged each of my new hobbit friends.
Then sometime after second breakfast
We all started drinking again.

I left Hobbiton a few days later.
My head was swollen and sore.
It felt like a dwarven anvil
After a terrible war.

I don't think I'll ever recover
From the food, the drink and the cheer.
Now I swear I'll never drink with hobbits again
At least, not till I see them next year.

by Marc Gunn, February 7, 2007

In my first cat CD, Irish Drinking Songs for Cat Lovers, I felt like I had a song for Jasper and a song for Torre, but no real song FOR Tiziano, my other tabby cat. Lyrics came to me based on the Irish song, "Old Fenian Gun" that just seemed to cool to miss. Since I was thinking of releasing a CD of love songs, I thought I might add this to that CD. Thus, it is a love song for a cat. I recorded it for my non-typical love songs CD A Tribute to Love.

He climbed up on the fireplace.
His fur was black and brown.
The mantle warm he rest his head
On paws and looked around.
His eyes they closed slowly saying,
"I'll nap until I'm done.
When I awake I'll meow for you,
Because I'm Tiziano Gunn."

I watched him sleep and ooed and awwed
As his ears twitched off to sleep.
I saw his body slowly rise
And fall without a peep.
Then his eyes shot open at a sound
Looking 'round he shifted his tum,
"Would you stop staring while I sleep
Because I'm Tiziano Gunn."

I remember when he first came to me.
His brother and he were scared.
Tiziano learned the art
Of opening drawers with this nails.
Inside the bathroom counter drawers
He hid and my head spun.
Ah well, I guess he's an opposable thumb
That's my Tiziano Gunn.

When strangers knock upon my door,
He runs to my room in surprise.
The dresser drawers he opens up
With my underwear he hides.
If that's not safe enough he'll close
The drawer he's so frightened.
How he does it? I'm not quite sure.
He's my Tiziano Gunn.

I throw a ball he brings it back.
You'd think he was canine.
But you can't mistake his high-pitched "mew"
When he wants to play with twine.
If he had his way, he'd lick my hand
Till it was red and all swollen.
But I saw "The Truth About Cats and Dogs"
So I stop Tiziano Gunn.

I walked up to the mantle
And petted his soft back fur.
His butt it rose like escalator
I could hear him start to purr.
His eyes opened. His tail it swished.
His nose it met my own.
Then his happy tail knocked a candlestick down
That's my Tiziano Gunn.

The minutes pass, he's purring now
As I hold him in my arms so close.
He squiggles free and jumps on down
In a basket of my clean clothes.
He circles in the laundry,
Finds a space on my linen.
His eyes they close to sleep again
How I love Tiziano Gunn.

by Marc Gunn, June 2006

In my continuing effort to create an all new and exciting follow up to my Irish Drinking Songs for Cat Lovers CD, I wrote this songs about kitties who eat too much catnip.

What shall we do with a catnipped kitty
What shall we do with a catnipped kitty
What shall we do with a catnipped kitty
Ear-laye in the morning

Meow meow. Away he pounces.
Meow meow. Away he pounces.
Meow meow. Away he pounces.
Ear-laye in the morning

A few different verses:

Blow some bubbles and watch him chase them

Touch him on the back and watch him jump high
Pry him off your bleeding shoulders

Put him in his cat bed till he's sober
Put him there again when he jumps out

Put him in the bed of your sleeping father
You should've seen your sleeping father
He screamed like your little sister
Your dad jumped up on top of the bed post

by Marc Gunn

With Halloween nearing, I started thinking about Bugs & Witch Hazel in "Broom-Stick Bunny". I sat down with my autoharp and started retelling the story of an ugly witch who is threatend by Bugs Bunny dressed as an uglier witch for Halloween. But when Witch Hazel finds out that Bugs is actually a rabbit, she realizes she needs him for a potion. During the fight to kill Bugs, Witch Hazel accidentally drinks a potion that makes her beautiful. Then the Genie in the mirror goes ga-ga chases after her on his flying carpet. The song was added to my CD, What Color Is Your Dragon?.

She was someone's daughter once
And so a beautiful thing
Her crooked nose and greenish skin, they
Don't bother me. If she'd
Stop trying to kill me
I wouldn't care one bit
That she was witch with a tiny hitch,
Which was...
The spellcasting itch.

Now I'm running through the halls
I'm running through the rooms
I run into a closet and climb up on a broom.
I fly up in the sky across the yellow moon
But the witch's eye with a lustful gleam
Wants a rabbit...
For Halloween.

She opened up her door, and saw
That I was one ugly witch
But it's Halloween and I trick or treat
My witch mask is rich
But her magic mirror on the wall
Said, "She's uglier than thou."
And now I find sweat on my brow
From her...
Spellcasting tao.

Now I'm running through the halls
I'm running through the rooms
I run into a closet and climb up on a broom.
I fly up in the sky across the yellow moon
But the witch's eye with a lustful gleam
Wants a rabbit...
For Halloween.

You should know that I'm a rabbit
And you are just a witch
I know your mama loved you once, so
I accept the glitch
But once you drink that potion
Your Genie on the wall
Entralled will whistle his cat call
And chase...
You down the hall

Then you're running through the halls
You're running through the rooms
You run into a closet and climb up on your broom
You fly up in the sky across the yellow moon
But the Genies's eye with a lustful gleam
Wants you...
For Halloween.

by Marc Gunn, October 8, 2006

I've always liked nonsensical songs. Early in my Brobdingnagian Bards music career, I wanted to write songs using suggestions from the audience. The closest we ever got to that was "If I Had A Million Ducats". That was not quite what I envisioned. After asking a few people, I was encouraged to write nonsensical. So through my Pub Songs Podcast, I accepted random words from listeners. Then I wrote this absurd song with a catchy tune. The song was added to my CD, What Color Is Your Dragon?.

There's an airplane over Mongolia
Mongolia, Mongolia
There's an airplane over Mongolia
And I don't know why it's gone.

Some monkeys hijacked that airplane
Oh that airplane, yes that airplane
Some monkeys hijacked that airplane
And they're flying it straight from Spain

Through the wind and the snow and violent rain
The violent rain, the greenish rain
Through the wind and the snow and violent rain
That blew from an elephant's brain.

As the airplane crashes down outside
Yes, down outside, oh down outside
As the airplanes crashes down outside
They whistle su-i-cide... is dangerous

by Marc Gunn, September 26, 2006

There's nothing more amazing than meeting a woman who wholly clicks with you. I recorded it for my non-typical love songs CD A Tribute to Love.

Like a mystical swan from Avalon
My heart erupts from the myst across glassy waters,
Gliding in holy ascension
From the macabre of past disappointment
Into a New World
Of Chivalric Songs,
Set in new, unimaginable landscapes,
Encapsulated with enchanting trees
And a more enchanting lady.

She's like the gosling reborn
As a phoenix to the experience
Of lifting her head from the ashes,
A new magical life perched on a swollen birch
Singing to the glory of Serendipity and answered prayers,
Like a zephyr we launch into the light
Of the dawning day
Our backs to the cloudy walls of uncertainty.

by Ande Rasmussen

A couple years ago, a local songwriter took interest in the Brobdingnagian Bards. He asked to co-write a song with us and almost immediately sent this song. Yesterday, I finally set down and wrote a melody for the song. I recorded it for my non-typical love songs CD A Tribute to Love.

a faint heart never
won a fair maiden
a faint heart never
let a lad be brazen
call up your courage
what's a few scars
you won't win the lady
you'll lose the lass
with a faint heart

put down your pint
get out of your seat
I spy a lass
you ought to meet
if you feel afraid
don't let it show
here is a rhyme
that you ought to know

get her attention
make a fool of yourself
if you don't go right now
she might find somebody else
then you'll never know,
what it was you lost
you better act right now
or suffer the cost

I know your heart's been trampled
like green grass under hooves
you spy her you want her
but you're scared to make a move
your knees are knocking
you're frozen in fear
this might be shocking
here's what you need to hear

you won't win the lady
you will lose the lass
you'll never know
unless you ask

by Marc Gunn, July 19, 2006

On a whim, I decided to put together The Medieval Virgin, a joke magazine based around the song "Do Virgins Taste Better Medley". I asked for a lot of article submissions and one Nagian, Cara Chapel, stepped up to the task with an article about a diet of virgins. A melody and then lyrics just started flowing from me. This is the result.

I've noticed a trend with knights young and old
Counts, Dukes and even King Henry I'm told
Their waists they are growing to sizes ten fold
Now I see me a chance to make lots of gold

So I wandered the world from England to France
Climbed up high mountains, endured gypsy trances
To find a bold diet at the tip of a lance
But dragons were wisest with their eating stance.


Of all the creatures under God's golden sun,
Dragons are healthier than every one
So I interviewed dragons about their sweet fun
That keeps them from weighing much more than ten tons

They sometimes eat cattle but only when spurned
They sometimes eat crops but only when burned
They drink lots of water after it's churned
But the Virgin Diet is the secret I learned

Virgins 1-2-3
Virgins to live healthily
If you're on a diet then listen to me...
Eat virgins and live like a dragon you see

Yes. Virgins are firm and succulent sweet
They have no diseases so they're healthier to eat
Strangely they're filling so you won't overeat.
And fewer calories are found in a virgin's young meat.

Plus, virgins are small and difficult to catch.
They hide in small caves and run very fast
This exercise makes them quite a fun match
So keeping off weight is like mending a scratch.


So I invented a diet Sir Atkins will crave
Just eat plenty virgins and soon you will stave
Off your foul hunger, no longer a slave
Your appetite filled with the hand that you wave.

The one problem now is the dragons are pissed
The virgins are vanishing into the mist
The dragons are gaining weight with a twist
Their blood pressure's so high they die hand over fist

by Marc Gunn, Bard 8/5/2004

This parody of "Lord of the Dance" was inspired by my friend, Pam Owens, known as Mother Pockets. I thought her idea of "Lord of the Pounce" was easy to parody for my "Irish Drinking Songs for Cat Lovers" CD. And it was. But as I was studying the different lyrics, I realized there was a great "circle of life" story that could be told.

Domesticated cats have been a part of our human culture for centuries. So I decided to make this song tell the story of cats as a part of the human experience, but with heavenly beginnings that will never end.

I pounced in the morning when the world was begun.
I pounced on the moon and the stars all for fun.
I leaped down from heaven, and I pounced on the earth.
When I pounced my first mouse, I had my birth.

Pounce, pounce, wherever you may be
I am lord of the pounce, said he.
I'll run under feet, wherever you may be.
And I'll leap on you in the pounce, said he.

I pounced on the papyrus of the Egyptians
They wouldn't play so I stole their feather pens
I pounced on the fish caught by James and John
They fed me fish then the pounce went on.

I pounced on the Sabbath, rubbed my head against the lame.
Many people shook their head, said this feline was insane.
I may nap after pouncing, do not think I am gone.
For I just saw a rat, so the pounce goes on.

I and my lady meowed a song across the plain
The birds came down, and we pounced on each of them.
On the bedchamber floor, I laid my carrion.
Then I raced out the door and I pounced again.

I dog jumped down, so I leapt up high.
I have nine lives that will never, never die.
I'll pounce on you though you bark at me
I am the Lord of the Pounce, said he.