Frodo, Where's Your Finger? (Donald Where's Your Trousers, Andy Stewart / Neil Grant)

This one goes out to my uncle, a big fan of both Lord of the Rings and The Irish Rovers.  This is a parody of their version of the delightfully silly Donald, Where's Your Trousers?

Frodo, Where's Your Finger?

From the Cracks of Doom back to Hobbiton,
Since the day that my quest was done,
I have heard from everyone,
"Frodo, where's your finger?"

Now liberated from Sauron's Eye,
I huddled with Sam and prepared to die.
Then Eagles swooped down from the sky,
Screeching, "Frodo, where's your finger?"

From the Cracks of Doom back to Hobbiton,
Since the day that my quest was done,
I have heard from everyone,
"Frodo, where's your finger?"

While I was praised in Gondor's hall,
I spied the cheekiest Took of all
And grumbled as I heard him call,
"Frodo, where's your finger?"

From the Cracks of Doom back to Hobbiton,
Since the day that my quest was done,
I have heard from everyone,
"Frodo, where's your finger?" (2x)

Returning home, my friends began
To scrub away the damage of Saruman,
While I was keen to start a ban
On "Frodo, where is your finger?"

From the Cracks of Doom back to Hobbiton,
Since the day that my quest was done,
I have heard from everyone,
"Frodo, where's your finger?"

I'm on my way to the distant West,
To join the ancient Elven blessed.
Now after all this time, I can have a rest
From "Frodo, where's your finger?"

From the Cracks of Doom back to Hobbiton,
Since the day that my quest was done,
I have heard from everyone,
"Frodo, where's your finger?"
"Frodo, where's your finger?"

Molly Alone (Molly Malone, Irish Rovers)

One of my favorite television shows is Jakers! The Adventures of Piggley Winks, which focuses on the lives of several youngsters in an idealized fifties-era rural Ireland. Here, I appropriate the traditional Irish ballad Molly Malone for a song about Piggley's little sister.

Molly Alone

In emerald Tara,
Where the weather is fair,
Is a lovely young lassie
Named Molly, alone.
She sits on the green hill
And watches the sheep till
Piggley, Ferny and Dannan
Arrive, arrive-oh.
Arrive, arrive-oh,
Arrive, arrive-oh,
Piggley, Ferny and Dannan
Arrive, arrive-oh.

Well, Molly is younger,
And she has a hunger
For goin' wherever her brother can go.
But she's a wee lass still,
So she just holds fast till
Piggley, Ferny and Dannan
Arrive, arrive-oh.
Arrive, arrive-oh,
Arrive, arrive-oh,
Piggley, Ferny and Dannan
Arrive, arrive-oh.

When no one is over,
She rolls in the clover
And she dreams of the day
When at last she'll be grown.
She mopes for a while then
Breaks into a smile when
Piggley, Ferny and Dannan
Arrive, arrive-oh.
Arrive, arrive-oh,
Arrive, arrive-oh,
Piggley, Ferny and Dannan
Arrive, arrive-oh.

Her brother's a weaver
Of tales she believes.
Her young soul is naive,
And she's pure to the bone.
But when she feels discarded,
She cries out, downhearted,
"Piggley, Ferny and Dannan,
Arrive, arrive-oh!
Arrive, arrive-oh,
Arrive, arrive-oh,
Piggley, Ferny and Dannan,
Arrive, arrive-oh!" 

Molly Malone

Grover (The Irish Rover, Traditional)

One of the things I am trying to do with my slew of parodies is represent as many of my favorite musicians as I can. This is based on The Irish Rover, as performed by the band of nearly the same name. I've listened the the Irish Rovers for years, and they're one of my favorite bands ever. I'm hoping to see them again next week, as a matter of fact, though I don't know if that will work out... Anyway, this is an ode to my favorite gangly blue monster.

Grover

Well, on Sesame Street you are likely to meet
A small fellow who's furry and blue.
He is gangly and sweet from his head to his feet
And he wants to be buddies with you.
He has got a pink nose and some rarely seen toes,
And he sounds a lot like Yoda.
He is not all that smart, but he has a good heart.
He's the monster that they call Grover.

All the customers hate when he works as a waiter
Because he's completely inept,
And they start getting rude when he brings the wrong food,
But he's charming through all his missteps.
Well, he has helped to make clear what is far and what's near,
And though he has quivered all over,
He's been there as we took a long look through his book,
At the end of which we found Grover.

Grover always is nice, and his words are precise.
You will not hear him say "can't" or "won't".
This trick makes him unique and appeases the geeks
Who love grammar and loathe those who don't.
He is one of those guys who persistently tries.
He perseveres over and over,
Never stopping to rest. I must say, I'm impressed
By this monster that they call Grover.

Now he flies through the air just to help children care
About people who live far away.
And before each trip ends, he has made some new friends
And has learned just how they work and play.
He has visited homes from the grandiose Rome
To Irish fields covered with clover,
And everyone gapes at his helmet and his cape.
They all love him because he's Grover.

Lucy's Lament (Lincoln's Army, Johnny McAvoy)

With the impending arrival of the first - and probably not only - Narnia blockbuster, I find my thoughts turning frequently to that glorious world created by C. S. Lewis. Though I know several people whose immersion into that world exceeds my own, I nonetheless consider the Chronicles among my favorite books, Lewis among my favorite writers.

I tend to identify more with male characters in literature, cinema and television, but in this case, Lucy Pevensie, the girl who first discovers the Narnian entrance through the wardrobe in the home of Professor Kirke, most captures my imagination. Well, there is Aslan, of course, but He's rather on a different level. I like to think I'm a lot like Lucy, though I suspect her virtues exceed mine. Nonetheless, I can't help but think that it would be very difficult for Lucy to accept the idea that she can't go back to Narnia. I think of all the children, her connection was the strongest, so the everyday world just wouldn't feel right to her anymore. I've always felt a bit like a fish out of water in modern society, but imagine if you'd actually lived in that fantasy world, actually served a vital role there! How hard it would be to come back and be an ordinary girl in a contemporary world where Magic seems to have no place! This was my mindset as I wrote the following filksong to the tune of the Irish Rovers' Lincoln's Army.

Lucy's Lament

She rests in her room, distracted and gloomy,
Impervious to the pale moonlight's embrace,
And silently sighs as cerullean eyes
Shed teardrops that trickle through troughs down her face.
The lines betray years when, despondent and weary,
To bring to fruition the fate she'd foreseen,
She strove and she pleaded with cries all unheeded
To go back and reign as a Narnian queen.

Her world is uncertain. A fluttering curtain
Of dread brushes past her. She fears an attack
Of the spoken Deplorable Word, an immoral
Action that never could be taken back.
The teen is forlorn, for though Aslan had sworn
That He could be found here, she's not seen Him yet.
In whispers, she wonders if she was under
A spell when it happened, and should she forget?

But sparkling rivers, congenial beavers
And ancient trees thickened with glistening snow
Call to her softly, though her sister scoffs
And claims 'twas a game that they played long ago.
Yet she too was there, and she clung to His hair
On the glorious morn when He conquered the grave.
She too heard His roar and, as never before,
Felt strong and compassionate, faithful and brave.

How Lucy has missed her, this sweet older sister
Who shared the most marvelous job in the world.
Su now calls her weird, but how she once cheered
With the rest when the Narnian flag was unfurled!
How could she abandon that glory for random
Accoutrements of an inferior land?
Lu can't help but feel that those times were more real
And that England will never be nearly so grand.

With hope growing fainter, she's touched every painting
And opened each wardrobe that she's come across.
She's searched every station in deep desperation;
Her spirit sags with a profound sense of loss.
He told her to stay here and make her own way here,
But it's not the haven it was way back when.
Her true home lies hidden till a Storm - or a Kitten -
Summons her back to her kingdom again. 

Lincoln's Army