Friday, June 12, 2009

O Chiurgeon - Fighter Poem - filk

O Chiurgeon

(to the tune of O Susannah)

It rained all night the day we camped;
By midday we were fried.
The sunscreen never got unpacked -
Chiurgeon, save our hide!

The mead was strong, the will was weak,
The toasts contained no bread.
Chiurgeon give me something for
This drumming in my head.

Chorus: O Chiurgeon,
Won't you look & see -
I come from tourney battle
With a boo-boo on my knee.

The site is like a dustbowl
And the ragweed's on the breeze.
My allergies are acting up,
I cough and sniff and wheeze.

Is that a snake or just a stick?
The bees are really mad.
I set my helm in fire ants -
Worst rash I've ever had.


I stepped into a gopher hole
Quite early in the fray -
I didn't check my ankle till
The end of tourney day.

It's grown to three times normal
And my aromor I can't doff.
Hey wait a minute -! Whatcha mean
You have to cut it off?!


-- Pippin Skylark

...always tart and crisp

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