Song: The Universal Filker (with apologies to Donovan)

To be sung to the tune of the Universal Soldier, by Donovan

She’s five foot-two and she’s six feet-four
She writes with reason and with rhyme
She filches folk-song tunes, and she writes new melodies
Been a filker for a long, long time…

She’s an Alto, Soprano, a tenor and a bass
A rapper, a jazz singer, out of tune
And she knows she shouldn’t pun
But she knows it’s too much fun
To pun openly or poor puns impugn

And she’s writing ‘bout politics
She’s writing ‘bout cats
She’s writing ‘bout the S.C.A
And she’s writing ‘bout computers
And she’s writing about fruit
And she thinks it doesn’t count as filk this way…

And she’s writing about Bujold
She’s writing ’bout Star Trek
She’s writing about Lackey and Heinlein
And she’s writing about Asimov, she’s writing about Wrede
And she never knows just where to draw the line…

But without her, how would Star Trek’s fleet be banned from Argo’s shores?
Without her, Greensleeves would be left alone
She’s the one who gives her lyrics
For our laughter and our tears
And without her all this filking can’t go on

She’s the universal filker, and she really is to blame
Her ideas come from far away no more
They come from here and there and you and me,
And brothers can’t you see,
This is just what bright, creative minds are for…

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