New Filk!

[gridlore]

As always, writing tends to burst open the dam of my creativity, and all sorts of things pop out.

For the non-Travellers, the Vilani are a branch of humanity that separated from us when we were homo habilis. The Ancients took them away, and they got to the stars first, build quite an empire before we showed up and kicked it over. The flaming eye is the Vilani equivalent of the skull and crossbones.



Flaming Eye

To the tune of "The Red Queen" by Leigh Ann Hussey
(note: the scansion and exact wording were lifted from the Annwn version of Bob Kanefsky's "Black Flag" parody, so there may be slight variations from the original.)


And it's whey hey we're the scourge of space
Lift up your mugs and cheer
We'll put the Terrans in their place
We're Vilani privateers

Full three thousand years and more we owned all these suns
'Till the bloody Terrans barged right in and put us on the run
But not all have bended knee, some of us are roaming free
A hidden fight that's the key, fought with blade and gun

(Chorus)
And it's whey hey we're the scourge of space
Lift up your mugs and cheer
We'll put the Terrans in their place
We're Vilani privateers
With the plasma beams burning blue
We'll burn that freighter through and through
Take the ship and kill the crew
Beware the flaming eye

Now some try to change their fate with money no longer theirs
And others try to awe by putting on stately airs
But nothing can change the fate
Of peasant or of potentate
Out the lock they go, for no one really cares

(Chorus)

We hear they're hunting us, we think that's OK
We're all itching for the chance to blow traitors away
The Terran Navy, it's to laugh
It's Vilani hulls, by more than half
We know the tricks of the battle staff, and quietly slip away

It's "target lo! hard a' port, making for the jumping line"
Of escorts or Q ship tricks there isn't any sign
We'll cut that freighter's hull apart
And sell off all the useful parts
Including all the crew's hearts, if we make market on time

(Chorus)

And it's whey hey we're the scourge of space . . .

(Instrumental)

And we sell the loot
And we sell our slaves
Awash in riches we party on for days
Then the Captain calls us all back onboard
The patrols are getting closer
Our war goes on even as we get old
It won't end for 'till I'm good and dead and cold
Even I'll live on in my comrades' eyes
Or as a meal, our shugulli's real
And he's already come to look me over

And it's whey hey we're the scourge of space . . .

Comments

[isomeme.livejournal.com]

Certainly a side of the Vilani not usually seen. That last verse was the one that got an out-loud laugh out of me, though. :)