If We Build the Wall (If It Be Your Will, Leonard Cohen)

A3: Good walls make good neighbours.

B3: Good neighbours make good walls.

- Us and Them, David Campton

I've been listening to If It Be Your Will on repeat since Leonard Cohen died because it so perfectly expresses my spiritual viewpoint.  Of the versions I've found, my favorite is the one by the Webb Sisters, which was the model for these lyrics.  This song has been a balm in the midst of the most divisive week I can remember.  The presidential elections have divided up the country to such an extent that demonization almost seems to be the norm, though I have been inspired by many friends doing their best to wage peace with a passion.

Every time I feel frustrated with dualistic thinking that pits one group against another, my thoughts turn to the short David Campton play Us And Them.  A simple but devastating tragedy, it depicts the gradual slide from neighborly behavior to all-out war as more and more unnecessary divisions are introduced.  In the play, the narrator is the only character who really has any insight into the whole horrible process, but here, I imagine the spokesperson of each group in a duet, wherein both slowly realize the harm that a wall could bring.

If We Build the Wall

If we build the wall
Where we draw our line,
Everyone will call
That division fine.
Chickens, sheep and swine
Won't wander off at all.
Neighbors?  You'll be mine
If we build the wall.

If we build the wall
That obstructs our view,
Borders will grow tall.
Lurid tales will, too.
Borders will grow tall
As we wonder what you do
If we build the wall

Twixt us and you.

If we build the wall,
We'll turn into spies.
Friendliness will fall;
Virulence will rise.
As suspicions sprawl,
Our animosity will swell
If we build the wall
And build it well.

As war draws near,
We'll spill our spite.
We'll fall prey to fear,
Turning from the light.
Turning from the light,
Stragglers will crawl
Into the night
If we build the wall.

We'll only fight
If we build the wall.
So, should we build the wall?
No! 

No, wisdom killed the wall.

If It Be Your Will

The Sight of Sarah (The Sound of Silence)

All right, after a long hiatus, here is my first attempt at a new parody, this one about Chuck, which didn't take long to join the upper ranks of my favorite TV shows. I figure this is sometime mid-season one, and Morgan, having had some sort of late-night emergency demanding a one-on-one with his best friend, comes over, waking Chuck from a vivid dream involving Sarah. This is Chuck's inner monologue, which he can't say aloud because Morgan doesn't know about his spy life and won't say aloud because he doesn't want to hurt his feelings.

Anyway, I'm a little rusty, but here's my first parody of 2011, to the tune of Simon and Garfunkel's The Sound of Silence.

The Sight of Sarah

Hello, Morgan, my old friend.
You’ve come to talk to me again.
You couldn’t wait till I stopped sleeping.
Cracked my window and came creeping.
Listen, buddy, you don’t mean to be a pain
Or a drain,
But I am stuck on Sarah.

In blissful dreams we walked alone,
Undisturbed by Casey’s phone.
I felt distant from the daily grind
Of seeking secrets locked inside my mind
Till my eyes were dazed with a flash – not a flash of fright,
But of delight –
At just the sight of Sarah.

I knew right then I wanted more
Than herding nerds in Big Mike’s store,
More than staying inside the car,
More than what I have tried so far,
More than, up till now, I ever would have dared.
I prepared
To spill my guts to Sarah.

Foolish? Maybe. Even so,
I just had to let her know.
Maybe if I said it in my head,
From the safety of my own bed,
I could speak the truth in life as well.
You know how hard I fell
For Sarah…

So I practiced and I prayed,
But confession was delayed
When she vanished with no warning,
And I saw that it was morning.
More specifically, Morgan, I looked at my watch, and it was 4:02,
And staring at you
Just can’t quite match the sight of Sarah.

Gandalf the White (The Rake's Song, Colin Meloy)

I have Lord of the Rings on the brain right now.  Here's a reflection from Gandalf - the slightly less responsible movie version, who's into drinking in libraries and barging in on hobbits in the middle of the night - addressing Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas to the tune of the Decemberists' The Rake's Song.

Gandalf the White

As I researched objects of power,
I blew rings and guzzled tankards of beer.
Then an Elven matron caught me,
And she chided, “Sir, you can’t smoke in here,
All right?  Books might ignite!”

Though I was irked, I had what I needed:
Confirmation we were facing the worst.
So much to do, a war to prepare for...
But I had to see Frodo off first.
I brought his plight to light
And gave him quite a fright.

“Frodo,” I told him, “Bilbo left a golden trinket.
I can’t rest until it’s finally gone.
Riders from Mordor could come to your door,
So you and Samwise must leave with the dawn.
Your flight starts at first light.”

Then when he left, I went to the wizard
Who I could count on to help with my quest.
Though I suspected that my efforts would be futile,
I had hope when I consulted the best -
The White - he’d set things right.
But White was not too bright.

Saruman locked me on the top of a tower.
Took an eagle to escape from his wrath.
Came back to you, and I led you but tumbled
Toward the Balrog as you ran up the path.
Our fight went on all night.

Then after I won, I left but returned here.
Seems the world was not finished with me.
I know that you think I don’t look like Gandalf;
That’s because the Grey is gone, you see.
So cite delight, not fright.
I’m called Gandalf the White!

Moria (Today, Randy Sparks)

Gimli sings the praises of Balin and Moria to Legolas to the tune of John Denver's Today.

Moria

Today, in the kingdom that they call a mine,
We’ll find sanctuary and lavishly dine.
The tests of tomorrow are ages away;
Balin the valiant will host us in style today.

Legolas, let me assure you that no one
In all of your halls where the Elven lords sing
Can rival the heart of that cousin of Gloin.
Truly he’s the noblest of kings.

Today, in the kingdom that they call a mine,
We’ll rest - once the wizard can work out this sign.
The tests of tomorrow are ages away;
Balin the valiant will host us in style today.

His deeds are recounted in old Bilbo’s story,
Well-known to the hobbit who’s bearing the Ring.
Come, let us meander through Moria’s glory;
Beauty is not just an Elf thing.

Today, in the kingdom that they call a mine,
We’ll marvel at mithril so fluid and fine.
The tests of tomorrow are ages away;
Balin the valiant will host us in style today.

Today, in the kingdom that they call a mine,
We’ll find sanctuary and lavishly dine.
The tests of tomorrow are ages away;
Balin the valiant will host us in style today.

Triple Dog Dare (Will You Be There, Michael Jackson)

I wrote this in response to a call on Amiright for Michael Jackson parodies.  Will You Be There is probably my favorite of his songs, so I wanted to do something with it, and for some reason, the famous flagpole scene from A Christmas Story popped into my mind.  (Flick, who is verbally incapacitated throughout most of the song, is thinking his lines, while Schwartz and Ralphie and their teacher are speaking out loud.)

Triple Dog Dare

Schwartz: Dare you.

I double dare you.

Double dog dare you.

Triple dog dare!

Flick: Schoolyard

In the middle of winter.

My buddy is goading me.

Pretty poor friend!

Lousy Schwartz.

What game is he playing?

He’s pointing and saying,

“Triple dog dare!”

Schwartz: Dare you.

I double dare you.

(Flick: Why?)

Schwartz: Double dog dare you.

(Flick: Shut up!)

Schwartz: Triple dog dare!

(Flick: That’s so dumb!)

Schwartz: Dare you.

I double dare you.

Double dog dare you.

(Flick: So dumb, Schwartz!)

Schwartz: Triple dog dare!

Flick: Flagpole,

Imposing and icy.

My chances are dicey.

The guys are behind me.

They’re all staring.

They’ve gathered to mock me.

And me, I can’t talk because I took the dare,

And boy, was that stupid!

  

Schwartz: Dare you.

I double dare you.

(Flick: What?)

Schwartz: Double dog dare you.

Triple dog dare!

(Flick: That’s so dumb!)

Schwartz: Dare you.

I double dare you.

(Flick: Ugh...)

Schwartz: Double dog dare you.

Triple dog dare!

Flick: Help, ’cause I’ve got a flagpole on me!

Lost all my verbal control, you see.

Can’t say that it was my goal to be

Freezing cold and stuck.

I’m livid and unlucky!

Ralphie: Uh-oh.

(Flick: Ralphie!)

Ralphie: Looks like it’s frozen.

(Flick: Help me!)

Ralphie: School doors are closin’.

(Flick: Please!)

Ralphie: Look, Flick, I care.

(Flick: Weird way to show it!)

Ralphie: But... well...

(Flick: Well what?)

Ralphie: You hear the school bell.

(Flick: Yeah, who cares?)

Ralphie: Flick, if you can’t tell,

(Flick: Please!)

Ralphie: I’m feeling stressed.

(Flick: Gee, how do I feel?)

Schwartz: Ralphie...

(Flick: Hey, Schwartz...)

Schwartz: Look at ‘im flailing.

(Flick: You watch out!)

Schwartz: Hear how he’s wailing.

(Flick: Yeah...)

Schwartz: Ralphie, I’m scared.

(Flick: I’m gonna getcha!)

Flick: Save me!

(Schwartz: Sorry!)

Flick: I behaved bravely!

(Schwartz: Gotta run, gotta run...)

Flick: Why did you say to me,

“Triple dog dare?”

(Schwartz: Spare me your glare.)

Flick: Tricked me.

(Schwartz: See ya, Flick!)

Flick: Tricked me so coldly.

Nobody told me

(Ralphie: Bye!)

Flick: Life’s so unfair.

(Schwartz: Hang in there!)

Flick: Pull me.

(Schwartz: So...)

Flick: Try to unstick me.

(Schwartz: Any chance he’ll get loose?)

Flick: Get me off quickly!

(Ralphie: From the flagpole?  No chance.)

Flick: Boy, what a pair...

(Schwartz: What a dumb dare...)

Flick: Free me!

(Miss Shields: Class...)

Flick: Somebody, see me!

(Miss Shields: Wait, he’s where?  He’s out there?  How did that happen?)

Flick: Wanna feel steamy!

(Miss Shields: What a mess!)

Flick: Boy, I’m depressed...

(Miss Shields: Coming, Flick!)

Vanity (Danny Boy, Traditional)

My dad asked me to write this to go along with a sermon he was giving on Ecclesiastes.  I think that book's quite a downer, but I tossed in a bit of Paul to perk things up a bit...


Vanity

We must accept the sorrows of humanity
And understand its joys will all be brief.
The years will turn our labors into vanity,
For only God is fit to conquer grief.

And so we toil, but all success is hollow.
Why even try to struggle and to learn?
Though we may triumph, emptiness will follow
As sure as green gives way to gold as seasons turn.

The earth remains though many generations
Have swiftly fled like rivers to the sea.
The sun will set on cities and on nations
Until they fully fade from memory.

Throughout our lives, in tragic times or merry,
We set our sights on matters far above,
For what we do is only temporary.
Yes, all is vanity but faith and hope and love.

The Ranger (Angel, Sarah McLachlan)

I've had Lord of the Rings on my mind lately, so here's a song addressing Frodo Baggins on the subject of the mysterious Strider around the time that he first meets him, to the tune of Sarah McLachlan's Angel.  This one goes out to my good buddy Crissy!

The Ranger

Spent half the night waiting for a hint or glance
Of the guy they call Gandalf the Grey. 
Just count on a wizard!  When the going gets tough,
Then those sorcerous sorts stay away.
You’re itching for action and, driven by caprice,
Warble a lively refrain.
But then you vanish, and a mystery man asks
To aid you in your plight.

You’re alarmed by the Ranger
Who has met you here,
For he’s dark, hardly well-groomed
And insulting you with his sneer.
But he knows of your mission
And the violence that you flee.
You won’t be harmed by the Ranger;
You will find he is sincere.

So unsure of Strider, but very soon you’ll learn
To trust that he’s watching your back.
This gold does not glitter.  While he wanders, he’s wise
To the ways of the riders in black.
You‘re such an innocent, you’ve got to have a guide,
So stick with him when you leave.
Though he’s a stranger, he will shield you from danger
And foil your enemies.

You’re alarmed by the Ranger
Who has met you here,
For he’s dark, hardly well-groomed
And insulting you with his sneer.
But he knows of your mission
And the violence that you flee.
You won’t be harmed by the Ranger;
You will find he is sincere.

Don't be alarmed by the Ranger;
You will find he is sincere.

Uncle Owen (Oklahoma!, Richard Rodgers / Oscar Hammerstein)

Here's a little ditty from Luke Skywalker's perspective on the day before he meets Obi-Wan Kenobi, to the tune of the title song from Oklahoma!

Uncle Owen
I’m almost an adult.  I’ve earned the right to whine.
Seems all I do is sit around and wait.
Just a little latitude would suit me fine;
He confines me to a place I hate.
Place I hate.  Hope it’s not too late.

Gotta show the fellas I’m no shrinking violet.
Gotta get my license, be a fighter pilot.
Gonna leave this planet with its dreary gloom.
Lookin’ for space and freedom to zoom!
Gonna hang onto this new hope.
How can I ditch this cranky old dope?

Uncle Owen
Is a podunk and provincial pain.
I’ll go clean the droids,
But I’m annoyed
‘Cause I’ve got converters on the brain.

Uncle Owen!
He’s a grumpy, domineering guy,
And it’s hardly grand
To work his land
When my heart is set upon the sky.

Tatooine is nothing but bland,
Just a rock full of womp rats and sand.

So when I claim,
“Blech!  I hate this farming game,”
I’m also saying,
“You cramp my style, Uncle Owen.
Uncle Owen, you’re lame!”

Uncle Owen!
Can’t believe he ever was a teen.  (Uncle Owen!)
Now he always bores
And doles out chores
‘Cause he’s dull and dusty, and he’s mean!

Uncle Owen
Only thinks of mouths he has to feed,
And unlike Aunt Beru,
He has no clue
That adventure’s what I really need.

This isn’t the life I have planned.
Oh, no!  Any day now, I’m taking a stand.
Gotta fly, gotta fly, gotta fly,
Gotta fly, gotta fly, gotta fly...

So when I claim,
“Blech!  I hate this farming game,”
I’m also saying,
“You cramp my style, Uncle Owen.
Uncle Owen, you are lame!”

Uncle Owen, Uncle Owen, Uncle Owen, Uncle Owen...

Tatooine is nothing but bland,
Just a rock full of womp rats and sand.

And when I claim,
“Blech!  I hate this farming game,”
I’m also saying,
“You cramp my style, Uncle Owen.
Uncle Owen,
You’re lame!  I’m ticked, and you’re to blame!”
Uncle Owen!
Blech!

Pesky Ramona (Lady Madonna, John Lennon / Paul McCartney)

One of my favorite characters growing up was Ramona Quimby, the free-spirited girl who is the subject of several Beverly Cleary books.  Now that she's about to hit the big screen, here's a song about Ramona, based on Ramona the Brave, to the tune of the Beatles' Lady Madonna.

Pesky Ramona

Pesky Ramona, making Susan howl.
What did she expect when she aped your owl?
Crushing her creature...  It was only fair.
Stupid stuffy Sue and her boingy hair!

Thought you’d like a room apart from Beezus.
Figured independence would be fun.
Now when night arrives, your blood just freezes.
Bring on the sun!

Pesky Ramona, whiskers on your Qs.
Teacher says to skip ‘em but you refuse.

Six is no fun!
Pesky Ramona, swearing in your rage.
“Guts!” sounds simply ghoulish to a girl your age.

Fighting off the mongrel who’s attacking.
You will lose a shoe before you’re done.
Never mind the footwear that you’re lacking;
Run, ‘Mona, run!

Pesky Ramona, who’d’ve ever guessed
Life could be so tough for a pint-sized pest?

Winnie Has a Hunny Pot (Papa Was a Rollin' Stone, Norman Whitfield / Barrett Strong)

After I posted my Eeyore song to the tune of My Girl on Amiright.com, Dan Creeden suggested I try Winnie Has a Hunny Pot to the tune of Papa Was a Rollin' Stone. So I did!

Winnie Has a Hunny Pot

Throughout the whole Hundred Acres,
There are both givers and takers, yes there are.
Well, maybe this song can provide a guide, yeah.
Your pocketbook will not get bigger
If you’ve decided to hang out with Tigger.
Tigger’s gonna team up with Roo to leech off of you.

If Pooh has hunny there, he’ll share some.
Winnie has a hunny pot.
Sometimes it’s filled up, and sometimes it’s not.
His tummy’s wide; Pooh eats hunny quite a lot.
Yeah, Winnie has a hunny pot.
Sometimes it‘s filled up, and sometimes it’s not.
His tummy’s wide; Pooh eats hunny quite a lot.

Well, well...

Now, Rabbit likes to lock up his tools
To keep those forest-dwelling fools from his stuff.
And Rabbit once let Winnie have a small smack’rel of hunny,
But it seems a small smack’rel just wasn’t enough.
A sticky plight.
Now the bear’s never welcome when it comes time for breakfast.
Rabbit has been convinced such kindness is reckless.
Bunny wised up; his hunny’s out of sight in his home.

But go ask the bear. He’ll share.
Winnie has a hunny pot.
Sometimes it‘s filled up, and sometimes it’s not.
His tummy’s wide; Pooh eats hunny quite a lot.
Yes, fortunately, Winnie has a hunny pot.
Sometimes it‘s filled up, and sometimes it’s not.
His tummy’s wide; Pooh eats hunny quite a lot.

Now, now, now...

Now Piglet’s is known in the woodland for presenting balloons.
Owl distributes stories in the afternoons;
Feathered fellow does not realize folks roll their eyes.
Well Eeyore, that old donkey sure does a lot of grousing
But once helped the bird to secure decent housing.
It belonged to somebody else, but hey, I won’t tell.

Pooh Bear, he’s always such a generous guy to his friends.
Winnie has a hunny pot. He keeps it well.
Sometimes it‘s filled up, and sometimes it’s not.
His tummy’s wide; Pooh eats hunny quite a lot.
Winnie has a hunny pot.
Sometimes it‘s filled up, and sometimes it’s not.
His tummy’s wide; Pooh eats hunny quite a lot.
I said that Winnie has a hunny pot.
Well, sometimes it’s full, and sometimes it’s not.
His tummy’s wide; Pooh eats hunny quite a lot.
Winnie. Oh, Winnie. Winnie has a hunny pot.

Skywalker (Skywriter, Jimmy Webb)

One of my favorite moments in the Star Wars saga is the scene in Return of the Jedi in which Luke shares with Leia the fact that she is his sister.  Here's a reflection from Leia's perspective in response to that revelation, to the tune of Jimmy Webb's Skywriter. 

Skywalker

I'm sure I should be shocked at what you're telling me right now.
Even so, a part of me always seemed to know somehow.
I confess I feel a fool for kissing you, but still our love is real.

I'm a Skywalker,
Sister you never knew,
Given another name,
And at last I understand this bond we claim.
You're my twin brother.
Luke, you're forever near
Even when you are gone.
Now I don't have to regret I've fallen in love with Han.

He didn't put a lot of stock in Jedi sorcery,
But you have helped him to believe in things he cannot see.
You journey on alone, but we will keep the faith aflame till your return.

Child of Darth Vader.
That part is hard to take,
Unkindest cut of all.
Must I lose you to ensure our father's fall?
I'm a Skywalker,
Never a slave to fear.
Although I wish you could stay,
If the Force will just be with us, we will meet again...

Skywalker,
Never a slave to fear.
Although I wish you could stay,
If the Force will just be with us, we will meet again someday.

You Can Have Your Fit (You Can Have My Heart, Julie Miller)

Several months ago, I was browsing YouTube in search of videos from the new Celtic Thunder DVD when I stumbled upon Ryan Kelly's tender demo cover of singer-songwriter Julie Miller's Broken Things.  It's now ranks among my favorite of his songs, surpassing several of his Celtic Thunder solos, and has given me another songwriter to investigate as well.  Here's a reflection I wrote to her tune from the perspective of Dumbledore addressing Harry in the immediate aftermath of the Battle at the Ministry in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

You Can Have Your Fit

You can have your fit,
And I hope you do.
I've too many objects;
It's time I had too few.
I don't covet your load,
And I regret I've stayed away.
When I explain it to you, I expect you'll feel
Justified in your display.

You can have your fit.
You can go on breaking things.
You can fume and cry
When your next step is clear.
For you're right to want to rage at me,
But I need to share this prophecy.
Once you've heard it, you can have your fit.

So beyond my hopes,
You are brave and true.
You had been through so much,
I simply couldn't heap
More pain on you.
But I mustn't shrink any longer
From this message I give:
You will battle him again;
Neither can survive
While the other lives.

You can have your fit.
You can go on breaking things.
You can fume and cry
When your next step is clear.
For you're right to want to rage at me,
But I need to share this prophecy.
Once you've heard it, you can have your fit.

Yes, you're right to want to rage at me,
But I need to share this prophecy.
Once you've heard it, you can have your fit.

Broken Things (scroll down to music player)

Fond of Countin' (Go Tell It On the Mountain, Traditional)

Google celebrates the Count today, so I will too, to the tune of Go Tell It On the Mountain.

Fond of Countin'

That fella's fond of countin'.
Gives him a thrill he longs to share.
That fella's fond of countin'.
He counts from eve to morn.

While other folks are sleeping,
He counts throughout the night.
He cackles "One, two, three, four,
Five, six" until daylight.

That fella's fond of countin'.
Gives him a thrill he longs to share.
That fella's fond of countin'.
He counts from eve to morn.

He looks just like a vampire,
But don't be scared away. 
He only wants to tell you
The Number of the Day.

That fella's fond of countin'.
Gives him a thrill he longs to share.
That fella's fond of countin'.
He counts from eve to morn.

Trust in Their Friend (Dust in the Wind, Kerry Livgren)

I've had Dust in the Wind on the brain lately, and that's a bad song to have firmly lodged in my head, since I can't think of any other song that I find more depressing.  Yes, it's gorgeous, but if I run across it unexpectedly, it can put me in a funk for the rest of the day.  So in an effort to get it out of my system, I've used it to write a reflection from Harry's perspective following his discovery in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban that his parents were betrayed by their close friend.  Though it doesn't tell the whole story, it's still one of the most depressing moments in the series, but at least maybe now, the next time I hear the song on the radio, I will think of J. K. Rowling instead of Nietzsche...

Trust in Their Friend

They closed their door.
Only one outside it knew where they had gone.
How could he
Break the sacred contract of fidelity?

Trust in their friend.
All they had was trust in their friend.

Dad and Mum
Never would have had to give their lives for me.
Malfoy knew,
Taunting me with whispered hints of treachery.

Trust in their friend.
All they had was trust in their friend.

Now, tell me, Ron,
Do you wonder why I want to hurt this guy?
I’m sure you’d see
If you were forced to listen to your parents die.

Trust in their friend.
All they had was trust in their friend.
(He betrayed the trust of his friends.)
Trust in their friend.
All they had was trust in their friend.
(He betrayed the trust of his friends.)
Their friend.

Our Little Girl (My Little Town, Paul Simon)

I've been participating in an online discussion of the Harry Potter books, and recently a few of us commented on how strange this whole experience must be for Hermione's parents.  We barely see them throughout the series - and they barely see her, especially after the third book.  Here's a reflection from their perspective to the tune of Simon and Garfunkel's My Little Town.

Our Little Girl

Well, our little girl,
She always is leaving.
We scarcely see her at all.
Oh, it would mean so much to us
If she would just stay here till the fall.
Boy, she's getting tall!
Our little girl.

Since she went to that school,
Flying on broomsticks and taking Arithmancy,
Our lives are defined by
Waiting for owls on a howling breeze.

She eases our pain with her parchment,
Her escapades shining in black,
But long letters cannot compare
To that precious presence we lack.
Wish that she would come back here.
Our little girl.
Our little girl.
Our little girl.

Wish the wizards hadn't whisked away our little girl!
Wish the wizards hadn't whisked away our little girl!

Well, our little girl
Was always a loner, but she's found some faithful chums.
Maybe we're greedy,
Maybe we're needy,
Thinkin' as we linger over patients' puffy gums

That we wish the wizards hadn't whisked away our little girl.
Wish the wizards hadn't whisked away our little girl!
Wish the wizards hadn't whisked away our little girl!
Wish the wizards hadn't whisked away our little girl!
Wish the wizards hadn't whisked away our little girl!


My Little Town

Galadriel (Midnight Well, Phil Coulter)

At the request of my dad, here's a song to the tune of Phil Coulter's Midnight Well about the Fellowship's stay in Lothlorien in Lord of the Rings, and in particular Frodo's offer to give Galadriel his Ring.

Galadriel

In the golden wood of Lorien
Lived Galadriel.
She could gaze into the hearts of men,
Galadriel.
Eight travelers charged with a perilous quest
Approached her in wonder and fear.
She awarded them rest
But encountered a test
When the innocent Frodo drew near.

For he bore an object much desired
By Galadriel,
And the humble hobbit, who admired
Fair Galadriel,
Quietly made her an offer.
He stood exhausted and half-hypnotized.
With trust in his voice,
Frodo gave her the choice
To lay claim to the power she prized

When he said,

"Take the Ring, take the Ring from me,
Please lift this thing from me, Lady of goodness and light.
Take the Ring, take the Ring.
Wear it proudly and set the world right."

As he watched, a shadow crossed the face
Of Galadriel.
In her eyes was guile and not the grace
Of Galadriel.
She mused, "I could rule over all Middle-earth,
Inspiring both love and despair."
But the dark moment passed
As she bravely held fast,
And an elegy hung in the air

When she said,

"Keep the Ring, keep the Ring from me.
Temptation's sting will decline as I fade with the light.
Keep the Ring, keep the Ring.
Hold it close and continue to fight." (repeat twice) 

Midnight Well (scroll down to music player)

Feelin' Lucky (Feelin' Groovy, Paul Simon)

Here's a ditty from Ron's perspective in the chapter Felix Felicis in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, to the tune of Simon and Garfunkel's Feelin' Groovy.

Feelin’ Lucky
So what? He spiked my juice;
The potion went to perfect use!
Just watch me block another goal.
Quidditch is fun;
I’m feelin’ lucky!
Felix Felicis leaves me
Feelin’ lucky.

Not a Chaser can defy me
And not a Quaffle will sail by me.
Fans have changed their rhyme for me.
“Hail, King Weasley!”
Feelin’ lucky!
“Weasley will not let the Quaffle in!”
Feelin’ lucky.

Well, I bet I could Beat and Chase as well as Keep.
I feel like I could play this game in my sleep.
All it took was a boost to my low self-esteem.
Thank you, Harry.
I’m so lucky!

Slytherin (Yesterday, Paul McCartney)

I just finished a re-read of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, and one of the scenes that jumped out at me was Harry's brief conversation with the Sorting Hat in Dumbledore's office.  Here's an homage to that moment to the tune of the Beatles' Yesterday.

Slytherin

Slytherin
Is the House you almost put me in.
What a big mistake that would have been!
I don’t belong in Slytherin.

Gryffindor
Is the House I’m clearly suited for.
Can’t you see the courage at my core?
Oh, I belong in Gryffindor.

I spoke to a snake.
Now they quake when I walk in,
Whispering, “Beware!
He’s the Heir of Slytherin!”

Slytherin
Left a lightning scar upon my skin.
Did it also burrow deep within?
Do I belong in Slytherin?

I spoke to a snake.
Now they quake when I walk in,
Whispering, “Beware!
He’s the Heir of Slytherin!”

Slytherin
Left a lightning scar upon my skin.
Did it also burrow deep within?
Do I belong in Slytherin?

The Lightning-Struck Tower (The Green Fields of France, Eric Bogle)

There's a critical moment in The Sound of Music during which Captain Von Trapp appeals to Rolfe, the zealous young Nazi in training, not to turn him in to the authorities, to instead join his family in their escape from an increasingly dangerous Austria.  I was startled when it came to that point in my high school's production and Rolfe, rather than hollering for his commander as he'd done in the film, reported back that there was no one there.  He didn't join them, and he only bought them a few minutes, so the impact upon the play was minimal, but what a difference it made in the future I could imagine for the character!

I think of that scene every time I read The Lightning-Struck Tower, the twenty-seventh chapter in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, in which the cornered Dumbledore appeals to Draco Malfoy's better nature.  Before we can get a definitive answer as to what Draco will do, Rowling interrupts their conversation, and the matter goes out of Draco's hands.  But the fact that he's still teetering in indecision suggests a great deal about what his ultimate choice might have been.

When I was browsing YouTube earlier this week for the tracks on Take Me Home, Celtic Thunder's latest album, one of the last songs I listened to was The Green Fields of France.  I'd never heard of it before, so I didn't really know what to expect, but by the end of the second exquisitely delivered line, I knew I'd stumbled upon something special.  I was sure I wanted to use it as a springboard, but I needed to find just the right subject.  Something solemn, something personal, something involving a choice.  I kept coming back to Ben Linus and Jacob in the season five finale of LOST, but it just didn't feel quite right.  Then I made the leap to the comparable scene in Harry Potter, and it practically wrote itself...

The Lightning-Struck Tower

Well, how do you do, young Draco Malfoy?
Do you mind if we speak for a moment, my boy?
Your face seems so pale, but please don't be alarmed,
For you've caught me alone and completely unarmed.
I hear by the clatter reaching us from below
You've succeeded in letting in Death Eaters, so
You may wait till they come here to deal the death blow,
For killing is harder than the innocent know.

Will you lower your weapon and allow me to step in?
Will you stop while your soul is untarnished and whole?
Will you trust the benevolent will win?
Will you veer from the path of a villain?

I'm impressed with your efforts.  You've thought this thing through.
The Vanishing Cabinets...  How clever of you!
And magical coins and a brainwashed barmaid.
It's time I applauded you, Draco.  Well played!
I know desperation has been driving you, son,
But please, while the damage is yet to be done,
Turn away from the darkness of Voldemort's side.
I'll offer protection and I'll help you to hide.

Will you lower your weapon and allow me to step in?
Will you stop while your soul is untarnished and whole?
Will you trust the benevolent will win?
Will you veer from the path of a villain?

Now, Draco Malfoy, I can't help but suspect
Your heart isn't in this.  With all due respect,
Did you really believe that the necklace you cursed
And the mead that you poisoned would come to me first?
They were feeble attempts, and most fortunately,
Your victims were not injured permanently.
Now I hope you'll go over your options with me,
For it's my mercy now, and not yours, that is key.

Will you lower your weapon and allow me to step in?
Will you stop while your soul is untarnished and whole?
Will you trust the benevolent will win?
Will you veer from the path of a villain?
Will you veer from the path of a villain?

Green Fields of France 

Expecto Patronum! (Heartland, Phil Coulter)

One of the most impressive songs in the Celtic Thunder catalog is Heartland, a haunting ensemble number in which storm-tossed seafarers pray for protection from the elements.  With its Gaelic chorus that translates to "Lord, have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy," it's also perhaps the most overtly religious song they perform.  I've been itching to do something with it ever since I heard it, but I was clueless as to what that might be.  Then tonight, the solution hit me over the head.  So here's my tribute to my favorite of J. K. Rowling's many creative spells.

Expecto Patronum!
 
Harry: When Dementors threaten and all is cold,
Deliver me from the darkness in my soul.

All: Expecto patronum!  Expecto patronum!
Expecto patronum!  Expecto patronum!

Luna: When my world is lonely and friendships rare,
Call to mind my comrades, little hare.

All: Expecto patronum!  Expecto patronum!
Expecto patronum!  Expecto patronum!

Snape: Silver doe, I have kept you secret so long.
Lead the boy to the sword and make him strong.

All: Expecto patronum!  Expecto patronum!
Expecto patronum!  Expecto patronum!

Harry: Deliverer, deliverer,
I wait for you!

All: Expecto patronum!  Expecto patronum!
Expecto patronum!  Expecto patronum!

Expecto patronum!  Expecto patronum!
Expecto patronum!  Expecto patronum!