Goodnight, Sweetheart

Feeling in need of a break, he sat on the nearest chair, produced a
pen and notebook from his pocket, and started writing. The writing
progressed slowly, with much scribbling out and many breaks to hum
under his breath. After a while, Paul stopped writing, and sighed.
"O for a muse," he muttered, "of fire that would ascend the brightest
heaven of et cetera..."

Having added his own items to the pile, Donald wandered over.
Paul put away his notebook.
"How are you going with our list?"

"The multitude of wire bracelets, no problem," said Donald. "Three
good rhymes for 'monkey', no luck -- I think you're on a hiding to
nothing with that one, honestly. The electronic keyboard--"

I never did get around to explaining what that was all about, did I?

The truth can now be revealed: I was writing a song. A great, epic work of filksong, reprising the whole of this year’s hoedown. I was going to fit a performance in at the end of the hoedown somewhere, but I couldn’t find a space, and since things kept happening right up to the last sentence it would have been incomplete anyway – besides which, I couldn’t get the darn thing to come together.

I still haven’t finished it, but I’ve finished the first bit, which is enough to be going on with. As might be expected, I started out with the bit with which I was most comfortable: the bit with me in.

Those of you with access to alternate timelines may wish to cue up your copies of The Bangles: Greatest Hits – Karaoke Edition at this point…

[ahem]

---

Hoedown time again, and I am just hoping to have fun.
But of all the things this Hoedown could be called, “quiet” isn’t one.
When I step inside, I can see that something isn’t right.
Even to me, it is clear that there’s a menace to fight.

It’s just another manic monkey (oh-woh-woh)
His weapon is chunky (oh-woh-woh)
And he smells funky (oh-woh-woh)
(That rhyme was pretty clunky)
But he’s just another manic monkey

Monkeys in the corridors, monkeys swarm in ev’ry room.
Ingo at the head of them, plotting non-blue creatures’ doom.
Did he get a hand from the armless thing upon the shelf?
Maybe it’s just me, but I doubt he did it all himself.

’Cause he’s just another manic monkey (oh-woh-woh)
His weapon is chunky (oh-woh-woh)
And he smells funky (oh-woh-woh)
(That rhyme was pretty clunky)
But he’s just another manic monkey

[brief pause while we switch songs]

Brown, green, brown–
Spectral uncertainty.
People wearing clothes
With real personality.
Changing reality.

What to do?
Ingo’s blue
and the Trews
are a hazy shade of Something.

See the infighting rebel band.
Back to normality
Helped by Sailor Gallifree–
We save Danel and

He tells us what he has planned.

What to do:
Profun stew–
and the Coat
is a different shade of Something.

Hang on to your hats, my friends.
Stories from the Dawn of Space
Feed the Large Device apace–
Is this the end?
See what Walter has plenned:

Make a gate
(Are we too late?)
Push Trousers through
(And then we all follow too…)

There’s a change in the scenery.
Trousers sneak off behind a tree.
Where can all of the others be?

Off we go
In a row
And we find
Eloise and all the Doctors.

Castle tall
But the wall
Is a hazy shade of that particular variety cast by the shadows of unspeakable beings waiting to break through the barriers of reality…

---

Here endeth Part One.

The first section is derived from “Manic Monday”, best known in its rendition by eighties pop group the Bangles. The second is from Paul Simon’s “A Hazy Shade of Winter”; for the purposes of this exercise, I worked from a cover version, also by the Bangles. (Hence the reference to metal bracelets earlier. Sorry about that.)

More when I get around to writing it. If you’re inspired to do a bit, go right ahead. (Less work for me.)

Paul
(walks, like an Egyptian, off into the sunset)