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Astronaut's Green

Had a great idea today, so I made it real. A filk of "Fiddler's Green" called "Astronaut's Green." Enjoy:

"Astronaut's Green"
A filk by Tristan A. Arts
To the tune of "Fiddler's Green"

As I walked by the spaceport one evening so rare
To view the space shuttles go up past the air
I heard an old astronaut singing this song:
"Oh take me away, boys, me time is not long

(chorus): Belt me up in me hyperspace jumper
No more on the ports I'll be seen
Just tell me old shipmates I'm takin a trip mates
I'll see you someday in Astronaut's Green

Oh in Astronaut's Green is a place I've heard tell
Where astronauts go if they don't go to hell
Where the tether's a spare and the AIs do play
And the old ghost of Terra is far far away

(chorus)

Where the lanes are all clear and you don't leave a trail
And all you need do is to tell a good tale
Where you lie at your leisure - there's no work to do
And the skipper's below making tea for the crew

(chorus)

Oh and when you are docked and the long trip is through
There's pubs and there's clubs and there's lassies there too
Where the girls are all pretty and the beer is all free
And there's bottles of rum growin off every tree

(chorus)

Oh I don't want a harp nor a halo, not me
Just give me a ship and a fabber or three
And I'll play me auld squeezebox as we warp along
With the creaks in the engines to sing me this song

(chorus)

~ ~ ~

Lyrics to the original song

Comments

( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
baron_waste
Nov. 23rd, 2009 10:03 am (UTC)

It would be fascinating to know what connection if any there is between that and “The Big Rock Candy Mountain.”

fayanora
Nov. 23rd, 2009 10:09 am (UTC)
Huh. They *are* kinda similar, aren't they? But if they're connected, I do not know.
baron_waste
Nov. 23rd, 2009 12:28 pm (UTC)
Oh, it's probably a natural imagining - inevitable. See Cockaigne.

According to Herman Pleij,Dreaming of Cockaigne: Medieval Fantasies of the Perfect Life (2001):

roasted pigs wander about with knives in their backs to make carving easy, where grilled geese fly directly into one's mouth, where cooked fish jump out of the water and land at one's feet. The weather is always mild, the wine flows freely, sex is readily available, and all people enjoy eternal youth.[5]

Cockaigne was a "medieval peasant’s dream, offering relief from backbreaking labor and the daily struggle for meager food."[6]
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )

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