The Farmer Gary Hanak key: C (written around 1987, or earlier) I am just a farmer, and I live to till the soil I work each day from dawn to dusk, live by my sweat and toil And though the world I farm is not the one that gave me birth I’m still a simple farmer, that’s the measure of my worth So sail away with me upon a sea that’s not been sailed before Or heed the call of a shear rock wall rising up from an unknown floor Together we’ll write history, and we’ll look ahead, not back And we’ll try to keep from memory the home we all now lack My brother is a trapper, and he lives by hunting game Strange new beasts and unknown dangers, no two days quite the same And though he deals in skins and pelts that have ne’er been seen before He’s still a simple trapper, living by his wits and lore So sail away with me upon a sea that’s not been sailed before Or heed the call of a shear rock wall rising up from an unknown floor Together we’ll write history, and we’ll look ahead, not back And we’ll try to keep from memory the home we all now lack (…instrumental…) My wife was once a mighty voice in the Body Politic Her word was law across a thousand worlds But she left her privileged office, and the status of her birth When the Council that she worked for Overrode her lonely veto And burned down to the core Leaving lifeless, evermore A lovely, golden world we all once knew as the Earth So now we sit beneath the darkening skies of our new home Trace new constellations out upon our starry dome And as we watch our children play, our pain grows once more keen For to all of our descendants, this new world is their inheritance, And the Earth is just another place that they have never seen So sail away with me upon a sea that’s not been sailed before Or heed the call of a shear rock wall rising up from an unknown floor Together we’ll write history, we’ll look ahead, not back And we’ll try to keep from memory the home we all now lack

Grandfather Sheet 1 of 2 Gary Hanak written Feb 14 1996 Revised 2004 or so I lived in an aging borough, filled with concrete slabs and glass Lying broken all across the boulevards But I saw twisted ranges, or a dangerous mountain pass While pretending I played out among the stars One day there was this stranger who appeared late afternoon And stood there watching me while at my play He looked familiar, somehow, like someone I thought I knew But why that should have been, I couldn’t say I lived with Grandpa, way back then, and had since I was small We two were all alone, far as I knew So I was quite surprised when this familiar stranger called And said he knew my Grandpa, and me, too Hey mister, from your off-world clothes, you’re no one that I know Just who are you? What are you here to see? How come you know so much about what happened long ago? And how is it you look so much like me? I thought Gramps would like to see him, a long lost friend and all But when I showed up with the strange young man in tow Gramps’ face went quick from happy when he saw me I the hall To real cold, like distant, frozen snow. Before I’d said a word, Gramps snapped “Oh, back so soon, old man?” The young man stood as if surprised and hurt Gramps said “Most everyone is dead and gone, passed their allotted span, Your next trip back, I expect we’ll all be dirt.” The young man said “I’m sorry”, and turned away from Grandpa’s barbs But I wasn’t ready yet to let him go I asked “But just who is he, Gramps, this stranger from the stars, And what is it he’s done that hurt you so?” Hey mister, from your off-world clothes, you’re no one that I know Just who are you? Who are you here to see? How come you know so much about what happened long ago? And how is it you look so much like me? The both stopped short and looked at me, their faces both so sad And Grandpa knelt and hugged, and said to me “You really want to be a starship crewman, don’t you, lad? I suppose it’s time you learned just what that means.” The stranger said, so quietly, “It’s mostly dull routine The trip to any star is years at best. But to get there we must go almost as fast as laser beams” Then he said to Gramps “Why don’t you tell the rest?” Gramps said, “Within your starship, for each day you greet anew, A month, a year, a decade could have passed where you call home Velocity near lightspeed changes time flow for the crew When finally you come back home – you’ll find you’re all alone “Think hard on it, my boy, before you join that starship band For this is something else you’ve got to see You call me ‘Gramps’—that’s who I am, to you, but also understand That in another lifetime, your young Stranger standing there so fair with Stardust in his hair was ‘Gramps’ to me— Yes, that young man’s my Grandpa— Now, do you see?” (…instrumental…) The years have passed—so many changes here before my eyes In my playground, now, an old repair ship basks But I still see, occasionally, a face I recognize And a young voice every now and then will ask “Hey mister, from your off-world clothes, you’re no one that I know Just who are you? Who are you here to see? How come you know so much about what happened long ago? And how is it you look so much like me? Just how is it you look so much like me?”

Whale Song Gary Hanak Key: Dm released: 1998 You feel the heat that rises from the sidewalk And you can hardly wait till fall has fell But temperatures are rising all around us—not surprising And pretty soon you’ll feel like you’re in hell A long time were they hunted without mercy or reprieve They cast themselves upon the shore to die with none to grieve But now the tides are turning, the water’s on the rise And this time you and I will be the ones to die The humpback and the narwhal, the orca and the blue The sperm and all their ilk now have it in for me and you Alone they lived for ages till we showed up on the scene And suddenly they face the worst extinction ever seen You think the melting ice caps stem from CFCs and fumes Or car exhaust and factories with their spewing fumes But deep beneath the waters where all patience has run thin The whales don’t let the heat leak out, and the sun keeps shining in Those storms with rolling thunder, and the driving sheets of rain Are the tears off countless murdered souls and countless screams of pain The roaring winds and waves that crash Are echoing the flukes that thrashed In agony upon the Mother Sea Oh, people of the land, I fear you’ve finally raised in wrath The ire of the long contented people of the sea You think the heat you feel from the sidewalk Is just a fluke and soon it will be fall But temperatures are rising all around this watery globe And soon there won’t be any land at all A long time were they hunted, and a long time did they die By thousands and by millions beneath the heartless sky A long time did they suffer, and unheard were their pleas But now the water’s rising, soon to die are you and me

Epilog Gary Hanak Key: Em (orig circa 1996) (current rev Oct 29 2006) Don't ask if he made love to her, or which one of them started to cry For he will never answer now, and if she answered at all, she'd lie... In the shadows of the graveyard stood the widow, still as stone For hours it seemed that she did not breathe, and for hours, she was alone But when, finally, she turned to leave, she saw a figure waiting there A woman just at middle age, with honey-colored hair The widow at first was startled, but recovered with an easy grace. This would not be the first time she'd met strangers in this place. She smiled a bit, then walked towards the stranger just to say That she was welcome, to ask her name, and to please feel free to stay. Then the widow saw the dry-eyed weeping the stranger had not concealed And how those eyes watched her, not where the body had been sealed To the widow came a premonition, vague, yet hard as stone This stranger she'd not met before was someone not unknown "Excuse me," said the widow, "But have we met somewhere before?" "Oh, no," the woman answered. "My home is on the western shore. But I would guess you've probably heard of me, as I have heard of you." Then the woman smiled shyly, and said "Hello. My name is Sue." It took a moment, then the name connected And in a blinding flash the widow knew That both those songs she'd thought were just affected Weren't just fairy tales--they were true. The widow stood there, speechless, and the seconds ticked away Then a quiet voice intruded, and brought her back to the present day. Sue was whispering "I'm so sorry--I should not have come. I'll go." And then she turned and took a deep breath, and gathered in her coat. The widow asked Sue if she'd loved him That's when both of them started to cry So they sat on the stone that marked the best man both had known Till the tears, once again, ran dry. And of course, they finally got around to talking 'Bout how and where they were, and how they'd been And how it was so frightening and so different When you really had to start your life again They talked, 'cause each had just a piece Of the life they'd been thinking about But you can never really see the whole Till you get all the pieces out. The widow thought about Sue later on that night After Sue had said good-bye and left for home How life's circles still keep turning Even after life for some had come and gone She knew there'd be no sequels to this story-- An epilog to close what's past and bid adieu-- But she knew there were still storytellers out there That set to music their life's stories, old and new Then the widow thought about the many stories Her lover'd written 'cause of things that he'd lived through And took to heart the truth "all life's a circle", Even when you lose the one closest to you And she hoped that, for those songwriters, it happened That, now and then, just like a bolt out of the blue When they felt lost, and in need of inspiration, That each of them would one day find their "Sue". Ooo oooo, ooo oooo, ooo ooo o-o-ooo... ...one day find their Sue...

Oil's Well Gary Hanak Key: Dm (Jan 1999, revised and completed Jan 2007) Now, me lads an' I been out fer years, scouring all space-time Lookin' fer that Mother Lode--that one big find sublime We've been hip deep in gold dust, and we've all been well be-jeweled But nothin' brings out avarice like crude--raw crude Fee - Fi - Fo - Fum I smell the fumes of petroleum Makes platinum worth less than nickel Give me petrochemicals I loves the smell of oil in the morn Then in orbit 'round this small blue world, we saw with just one scan Big long strips of tar laid out like entrails o'er the land And methane, propane, enough stuff for every eye to gleam But we also found the natives who used crude to fuel machines Hey, fiddle dee dee, I like organic chemistry The polymers and the keotanes They make me feel young again So Hey, fiddle dee dee, I like organic chemistry Now, me hearties, you're aware That every star you see out there Makes all the elements as it burns up And novas scatter all this shit Where gravity can get at it And that's how moons and planets get built up Then plate tectonics grinds and mixes Volcanic forces cook and this is Where the diamonds, gold, and jewels comes from But only on worlds where there's life Can all these forces then unite And form that rarest loot -- petroleum! ... "Cap'n, what the devil are you playin'?" "Leave it be, ya scabrous seadog! It took years to master this thing." "Surely there were better ways you could've spent your time..." "Belay that!! That's mutiny, it is!" "Cap'n, playin' that thing on board is grounds for mutiny." "What?!?" "Pirates code, Cap'n--one o' the few that really isn't just a guideline" ... Now, tough as we was, we all were shocked, then I said "Aargh! Avast! Re-run that scan, no jokes this time, or I'll hang ye from the mast" My First said, "Ain't no bullshit, Cap'n--we got it on the screen These yokels here use refined crude to burn in their machines" I checked and checked again, me lads, twern't any doubt at all Those daft folks used petroleum where most use alcohol The alcohol they drink, believe it--I know that it sounds lewd But it does explain the way they use their crude So, Fee - Fi - Fo - Fum I smell the fumes of petroleum Diamonds? Rubies? Beads of wax!!! I'd take a jar of crude like that! I loves the smell of oil in the morn So, there we were, me hearties, just a Mother Lode of crude And these daft primitives using it in ways both crass and rude The planet was just full of wealth, for even a million kings-- So we wiped the population out and took the whole damn thing... Hey, fiddle dee dee, I like organic chemistry The polymers and the keotanes They make me feel young again So hey, fiddle dee dee, I like organic chemistry

Weekend Filker Gary Hanak Key: E (Aug 2006, during the 80 hr/wk marathon) Well, I been workin' sixty hour weeks, the pain it doesn't end I get home, fall asleep, and then it's back to work again It's hard, but, hey--it's worth it, and no one at work knows If I get done in time there's places I just gotta go For weeks on end, polo shirts, clean jeans, static jackets, and computer screens Every now and then I just gotta cut loose or I may start to scream, 'cause I'm a weekend Filker - a bastard writer come of age I'm a weekend Filker - someday I'll be up on stage I'm a weekend Filker - and one day I'll be called a sage I'm a weekend Filker - and -- Oh wait, shit, there's my page... ( Yeah, boss...What?...No, the documents are on the shared drive... Yessir, all of them...Software source, graphics, data files... Look under \\CODATA -- that's "company data", sir -- OK? \\CODATA\DATA\U-R-A-M-O-R-O-N...Yessir...You're welcome, sir... ) Been pushin' it for seven weeks just to free this weekend up Had everything all set to go, then everything blew up Now it's Friday, the Con begins today, and my shit is in the car But we're still in crisis mode here--what to do with my guitar? It's 90* in the shade, and I can't just leave it sit outside But if I bring it in to work, then my secret's compromised... I'm a weekend Filker - I'll hide it underneath my desk I'm a weekend Filker - next to my costume with the low-cut neck I'm a weekend Filker - and I'm going to have a ball I'm a weekend Filker - and -- dammit, wait a second -- got a call... ( Yeah, boss...This weekend? ...No, I really can't... Really, I'd love to help, but--uh-- I've come down with something {cough, cough} {SCRATCHY} To tell the truth I'm really kind of tied to-- uh--the, uh--the head!!! Yeah...Sorry, Boss -- diarrhea. Gotta go ) ( Yeah, in more ways than one ) ( ...shitty job... ) (instrumental) It's Sunday afternoon, the Con is finally winding down Soon it's back to work and the Yuppie look in a cubicle downtown But till the weekend's over, it's still my guitar and me Draining all the beer still left in Hospitality Come Monday, I'll be hurtin', but I can't let them know why Maybe I'll just say I caught a bug at a local church fish fry This double life is stressful, but I don't do it out of guilt You can go to jail in this here state if you get caught writing FILK 'Cause I'm a Weekend Filker - out of tune guitar and crusty strings I'm a weekend Filker - long offkey dirges will I sing I'm a weekend Filker - no sense of rhythm will you detect I'm a weekend Filker - and -- damn, there's a voice mail - wait just one sec ( Yeah?...Oh, hi Boss...you want me there now? It's Sunday... Of course I like my job--just not that much... I said I like it very much. It's just that I'm kinda tied up... But they've had that for over two weeks!! They called you TODAY to say you need a change by tomorrow?? Oh...They left you a message last TUESDAY that they need a change by tomorrow... ...huh...yeah...just flocking wonderful...that's great... I had nothing better to do with my time... ) (*32 Celcius, for all those using sensible measuring systems)

Seventh Sojourn Flyby G Hanak Key: D (from a while ago -- revised Feb 2007) I've been to all the planets in our local heliosphere From Mercury to Pluto (though it's now a dwarf, I hear) Two is frightful, five is huge, and six, beyond compare But you can shove the seventh up itself for all I care Uranus, Uranus, your name is all that's famous Neptune's cool, Saturn's a jewel, but you look like Uranus "If my planet had an aspect like yours, I'd blow the atmosphere and lock it's rotation to the dark side of the moon..." Folks with SAD despise the place--winters run past twenty years And with nights that long as well even the Grinch'd be close to tears Cartographers all hate it too, no compass works there well If they their way they had, they would consign the place to hell... Uranus, Uranus, your name is all that's famous No east, no west, it's such a mess, so they all say 'Kiss Uranus'. "Yeah, it's satellites would follow him anywhere... but only out of curiousity..." A solar system MD paid a visit eons back It seems the sun had flared a bit and things were out of whack "An enema!" he cried, and grabbed that tube so grim and famous, "We'll circle 'round past Neptune and then shove it up Uranus!" Uranus, Uranus, your name is all that's famous To take a peak at somewhere bleak, take a good look at Uranus "I don't think you evolved from a stellar dust ring. I think that's where you're heading..." And even now when things are quiet across this ball of dirt There's still a chance we may enhance our own demise on Earth And if such things should come to pass and life is just too dangerous Put your head between your knees, and with a kiss, say "Bye, Uranus!" Uranus, Uranus, your name is all that's famous If really pissed, we counter with "I'd rather kiss Uranus!" Uranus, Uranus, your name is all that's famous Let's hope our race won't take this place, and blow it out Uranus!

Odo's Blues Gary Hanak, with help from Steve Macdonald and some Archon 22 people on verse 1 and chorus… October 1998 Woke up early this afternoon, and the view was not the best Something large and hairy had plopped on me just to rest Tried to launch a protest and it came out as a fart The folks looked at the guy on me, ironically, named Art I tried again, then Art got up, and I moved back a bit Which felt O.K. to me, but then Art tried once more to sit The crash was just phenomenal--and I felt pretty smart And I took the opportunity to sit my arse on Art It's hard to be a chair It's hard to get any air at all down there And if you think that things could not get worse Then I suggest that you sit down and you write the next verse They put me on a steak out--on the job sheet spelled 'a-k-e', But some wise-ass punster assigned these jobs and, of course, he thought of me So now I'm sittin' on a plate, with mushrooms on my side The guy I'm watchin' watchin' me with hunger in his eyes As a porterhouse there simply isn't much that you can do So as he picked up his knife and fork, I let out a subtle 'moo...' He leaped up, knocked a waiter down, and then fell on his face And I took the opportunity to sit down in his place It's hard to be a steak It could even drive a priest to mas--ticate And if you think that things could not get worse Then I suggest that you sit down and you write the next verse I pulled duty at a building site, disguised as a commode And suddenly some guy walks in, prepared to drop a load Now, I'd made an "OUT OF ORDER" on my outside plain as day So as he turns to sit I quickly slip the other way I didn't want to do it, that's how my career, it came undone But hey--he either lays there bare-butt or I get feces on my tongue It may have been an accident, or he may just have been obtuse But with my cover blown (and his too!), I just quietly vamoosed It's hard to be the john You only catch the tail-end of everything that's goin' on And if you think that things could not get worse Then I suggest that you sit down and you write the next verse "<yawn> ...yeah, it's getting late... ...about time I hit the bucket... ...g'night, all. See you in the mornin'..."

The Six Cons of Henry VIII Gary Hanak Key: D (circa 1994 revised 2007) narrative: (Archon is an annual St Louis area science fiction convention. For many years, it was held at Henry VIII hotel in North County, up by the airport. Rumor control had it that the upcoming airport expansion plan, otherwise known as W1W, would soon end the reign of Henry VIII--not to mention being the source of my getting screwed pretty royally not once but twice during my divorce of many, many years ago. At any rate, for a variety of reasons the convention was moved over to Collinsville, Illinois, in 1993. Those of us who were used to Henry were rather sorry to see his reign draw to a close, especially for those of us who experienced that first year at Holiday Inn and at the Gateway Convention Center. Besides, a lot of people liked Henry VIII because it was probably as close to being inside of a TARDIS that most of them were ever likely to get.) In a lackluster corner of olde St Lou, near the place where the aeroplanes park There is a large montage of brick, wood, and stone that holds a dear place in each heart Sometimes he's a boor, and he's crude, unkind -- but the first thing he usually recalls to mind Are the cons that he's hosted from time to time: The Six Cons of Henry VIII From midnight to dawn we have warbled in song, or as near as we cared to come to it In the Tudor or St George rooms right down the hall from where all the odd artists types do it. But this year in Gateway we played in the hallway competing with MUZAK and boozers The overhead speakers and the old barfly geezers who were thinking that WE were all losers narrative: (Now, it is a fact, particularly back then, that filking was not a major concern of Archon. In fact, it still isn't, in spite of my annoying presence on the committee these past few years. We were used to small, closed rooms with no air circulation but plenty of sonic connections to loud, usually amplified, and heavily rhythmic sound-laden activities--but we usually did have a room. However, that first year in Gateway, we had no room, no publicity, no 'Do Not Pass Go, Go Directly to Jail'--well, after all, that would have provided us with a room--and we wound up outside the hotel bar in a sort of alcove, with elevator music coming soothingly from the ceiling. I mean, if you haven't heard the Boston Symphony's version of "All Along the Watchtower", you just haven't lived, man...) Eleven was ancient, a long time ago, and the Toastmaster hailed from Britain He once sold computers from DIGITAL until by the old SF bug he was bitten Then he lived on the West Coast, a garrulous host with lots of tall tales and good times And James, he still says it was due to a bet with some friends that he's now writing plot lines narrative: (Actually, he hails from Ireland. However, I was hampered by a suitable rhyme for either "Ireland" or "Erin" that also was phonetically close to "bitten". Yes, I could have come up with something else, but I'm lazy, and Britain includes at least part of Ireland. I'll just hope he never hears this song and takes offense from it... But in further defense of my use of "Britain", however, it is said that the English can't resist a bet. James Hogan, who at the time had just come out with the "Giants" novels, had been working for DEC and writing for fun. Some of his friends happened to find out he wrote stories, and came out with something like "You'll never get anything published", to which James said "Bet!", and they did, and then he did, and they lost. Then, when sales of his stories were starting to take off and he was considering what to do about that, they came out with "You'll never be able to make a living doing that". Having little sympathy for those who can't profit from their past mistakes, James again said "Bet!", and, being slow learners, they did, and then he did, again, and now he's a celebrated and not unwealthy author. I assume. So, I have this chance to talk with this guy whom I am just in awe of, thinking that I'll hear first-hand all sorts of revelations of the Olympian sort. And what do I hear? Rather colorful and hopefully fictional stories involving British army officers and unwilling camels, that's what. Such is life.) Twelve is obscure, since few records survive, but it's sure that we all partied hard And Fourteen was mem'rable because of the fact that the whole guest list came from the Wild Cards Thirteen was the scene for the great David Brin, and by now Vic was MC for life At Fifteen I drank and caroused and I grinned, and at dawn woke up one angry wife narrative: (14 was interesting because that was when the whole multiple author thing was taking off. We had a dozen guests, all authors in the same literary universe. Yeah, Wilds Cards--how'd you guess? Costumes in the Masquerade that year tended to be rather thin... However, by 15, I was one of the regulars of the filk circle, and I tended to play musical support overlong and overdo it somewhat in general, being not a spring chicken even that far back. To alleviate the raw throat syndrome thus incurred, I was offered by a lady of whom you'll hear more later a concoction formally referred to as "Romulan Blue Ale", but informally referred to as "Blue Shit". It had Everclear, blue Kool-aid, and some other blue fluid, but all I know for certain is that a) it deadens enough nerves to allow you to play and sing far longer than you should, b) it makes you do things you normally wouldn't do, and c) it eats holes in the hotel carpet should you spill it. As part of syndrome b), I eventually made my way back to the room where my wife and a couple of friends of ours were foolishly sleeping at 6 am. I woke them all up, apparently giggling the whole while, and made them go with me to see "Android", which I thought was a great film but which, it turns out, they didn't think quite worth 6 am in the morning. And yes, my wife was not happy. More about that later as well...) At number sixteen, why, a wedding was held. Every- one had their best Star Fleet things on The Captain and Chief Engineer said their piece, and the Best Man appeared to be Klingon We filked and they wedded with the aid and abetment of the newsies from 4, 5, and 2 And the ale from Romulus some of us did have too much, and for days we regretted The Blue narrative: (Actually, the Best Man appeared to be an approximately six foot eight gay Klingon, complete with purple robes, long stemmed lily, and an electric toy of the type probably illegal here in Missouri... Now, the lady mentioned in the last stanza was not an insignificant presence. She was pretty much the matriarch of a fairly large group of folks, and quite used to having her will be done. Her husband had asked his father, a rather small African-American man, to perform the ceremony--his father, the Baptist minister. His father, who looked to be a pretty conservative Baptist minister. His father, who looked to be a pretty conservative Baptist minister and <u>didn't</u> look as if he'd really been clued about the circumstances under which said wedding ceremony was to occur. Maybe it was just me, but, underneath his frock hat, white minister's collar, and black coat, I swear his face had that "OK, I'll do it, but I'm going to kill him later" look about it. Anyway, this formidable lady, who, sadly, was taken from us far too young, once again managed to keep me refreshed with the infamous "Blue Shit". My wife, who is not at all formidable-looking, and who was really quite fond of this lady, nevertheless went up to her the next morning, and said, with all graciousness and good manner of upbringing, "If you ever give my husband Blue Shit again, I'll rip your tits off". And this formidable lady, who probably out massed my wife something like 2 to 1, looked down at her and said, "...ok..." And, you know, to the end of her days, I never did get any more Blue Shit from that woman...) In a lackluster corner of olde St Lou, near the place where the aeroplanes park There was a large montage of brick, wood, and stone, that held a dear place in each heart And we now and then gather to fix in our minds those days that can still bring a tear to our eyes And we lift up our glasses and toast at least six times To those cons of the edifice Soon to be under AirBus The Six Cons of Henry VIII

Oh Lady Gary Hanak Key: D (written in memory of Cyd Donaldson) Oh lady, don't worry for those left behind Both in our hearts and in our thoughts you'll be close behind Oh lady, don't worry for our peace of mind You'll always be around till it's our time. Dear lady, you've done so much in the time given to you So many lives you've touched and so much left you had to do Dear lady, you surround us with your love And we must carry on while you look down from up above My lady, you'll live on in all you've touched along your way Your path was long and hard, but hardly ever you complained Be at peace now, lovely lady, those who loved you won't dispair You taught us much but mostly for each other how to care Dear lady, we grieve for all we lost in you today Your wit, your smile, that extra mile you walked most every day Dear lady, please don't think we need you here to carry on We only grieve that nothing more from you can now abound (instrumental) Oh lady, don't worry for those left behind Both in our hearts and in our thoughts you'll be close behind Oh lady, don't worry for our peace of mind You'll always be around till it's our time.

Spaceman's Load G. Hanak Key: A Aug 2006 It ain't all glamor, it ain't all glory A spaceman's life is many stories You ride on jets of thunder, that's true But there are still things that you have to do You'll coast high above the earth deep in space Envy of most of the human race But sooner or later, hydraulics wins You've eventually got to pee again (refrain) See a man 'bout a dog, take a leak, gotta run, It may be mostly water, but it's still number 1 And once you're in space, better not lose control Or you'll be dressed in your skivvies for your next deep space stroll Those Cheerios you used to aim for in the bowl Don't work when the water floats out of the hole And "missing the mark" don't mean wiping the seat It's embarrassing chasing down pee that you leak So while you're still where up and down isn't moot You'd best get pretty good at the ole' "Point and shoot" 'Cause a shower of gold don't mean inspired dreams Up here it means you must have busted a seam. (refrain) Take a whiz, hit the head, need a break, gotta run It may be mostly water, but it's still number 1 And once you're in space, better not lose control Or it's your birthday suit for your next deep space stroll (...instrumental...) The 'Gross Meter' no longer sees new high scores Things just aren't the same now with ladies on board The Captain gets pissed when you leave up the seat Ain't no way she's cleaning up after you if you leak So we're careful in aiming, make sure seals are tight (OK - some chores we like more than others, all right?) But you'd best bear in mind this was just about pee "Number 2" loose in space gets promoted to "3" (refrain) See a man 'bout a dog, take a leak, gotta run, It may be mostly water, but it's still number 1 And once you're in space, better not lose control Or you'll be just wearin' skivvies for your next deep space stroll (acapella) Take a whiz, hit the head, need a break, gotta run It may be mostly water, but it's still number 1 And once you're in space, better not lose control Or it's your birthday suit for your next deep space stroll "Hey fellas--I think I feel a draft..."

It Must Be a Deity Gary Hanak 08/2006 Key: C to D to E (TUNE...Simple Gifts...) 'Tis a gift to be simple, and so when I see A bright flash of light blow the shit out of a tree The last thing I think of is electricity 'Cause if I can't understand it, it must be a deity Thor, Zeus, Jupiter, or someone more obscure But that it's some divinity, of that I am quite sure Some may talk of reason but one thing makes sense to me If I can't understand it, it must be a deity. (TUNE...Amazing Grace...) Some heretics have dared to state We circle 'round the Sun And that the world is older than The Good Book says it begun They gather facts, they offer proofs And pit Faith against Theory And cast doubt on those beliefs I've held Since before I was three So what should I believe, I ask The answer is plain to see If I can't understand it, It must be a deity (TUNE original tune ) Genetics, evolution, spans of time I cannot grasp On the opportunity to learn such, we should pass Mortals are we, it's not right, it should be plain to see We should not aspire to be like divinities ___ Evolution seems absurd--it's all planned, that's plain to see Stem cell research should be banned, so don't spout facts at me Contraception is a sin, it says so on page three Every sperm is sacred, every egg someone should be (...instrumental...) All life's answers are in one book, though which one not all agree But it's not one based on science, and not on technology Be it paleo-, neuro-, bio-, geo-, or archaeology I can't understand them, they all sound like Greek to me ___ If I can't understand it (4X) If I can't understand it, lightning, physics, or genetics Be it mysteries or magics, doesn't matter what the facts is If I can't understand it (2X) If I can't understand it, it must be a deity... A deity... Deity...