{Echo Bazaar} Duelling Trousers - A filk
Jun. 10th, 2011 09:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wayfarers_lodgeOOC So, in the long and somewhat belaboured tradition of filking, I've managed to spin out another. Absolute admiration and respect goes to Professor Elemental for his song 'Fighting Trousers', which serves as the basis for this piece. I'd like to apologise in advance if it doesn't read like it scans, I've taken a few creative liberties with the rhythm, so it fits when I'm actually saying it- except for the intro and outro. I should also point out that Charlie is Poppy's Talkative Rattus Faber.
IC
"Ah, Charlie. What's that you have in your hand, dear, pass it over. A telegram? Oh dear... yes, Charlie, I can read that someone is challenging me. No, Charlie, I don't know why he'd do a foolish thing like that. Yes, Charlie, just shoosh, and fetch me my trousers at once! No, not those those are my sneaking trousers... those are my lecturing trousers... yes, that's it! Those ones, my duelling trousers!"
Dear Sir, regarding your recent foray
Into the duelling business and the scene you portray
See, I don't normally approve of war games
But "He wants to duel you" is what they all say.
And by the Masters, they might be right!
This is the Ribbon, not a silly bar fight!
Shelve this Feducci impersonation,
Let it end now, it's impertinent waiting!
You seem a reasonable gent, when your letter was sent
I'm sure that you meant it
But it's just not likely that your plan is the ticket
Put away that ratwork rifle or I'll tell you where to stick it!
I – Don't like your tweed, Sir!
Will – Teach you the Professor's ready
Not – Let's see who strikes the loudest
Lose – Put on my duelling trousers.
I've got Vakeskin Boots and a Working Rat,
You've got Dancemaster's Dabs and a Ridiculous Hat.
Don't look around, Sir, I'm speaking to you
Roll up your shirt sleeves, Father Norton's rules!
Never test professors with the cleverest wits,
Let's settle this like gentlemen, armed with heavy sticks
On the dome of St Fiacre's, in the dark of the morning,
Your luck's run out, weasel- I gave you fair warning.
When this good fellow tries to start fighting
Audiences fall asleep, he's so unexciting.
A new ambition might be more rewarding
So go back to the silk scraps that you've been hoarding!
I – Don't like your tweed, Sir!
Will – Teach you the Professor's ready
Not – Let's see who strikes the loudest
Lose – Put on my duelling trousers.
I don't see you in the Labyrinth, or up in the Flit
Or at the Docks- Dear sir, you're not worthy of it!
Sold your soul to the devils for barely a bat-
You should never take off your Ridiculous Hat!
Hope it's safe to assume you won't do it again,
Step up to my house and get ruined again.
So begone, you rake, try going to zee-
There's not room in the 'Neath for two duellists like me!
Please leave town by the end of this song,
Sincerely, and so forth, et cetera, Professor Worthington
I – Don't like your tweed, Sir!
Will – Teach you the Professor's ready
Not – Let's see who strikes the loudest
Lose – Put on my duelling trousers!
"Sorry, this is just upsetting. Gets my hackles right up. Charile, get off the drums, this is going to be presented to the Empress. Yes, Charlie, I know I'm not welcome in the Empress's Court. Yes, Charlie, I know she wouldn't approve of such language. Just get off the drums, and could you be quiet, just for one moment."
IC
"Ah, Charlie. What's that you have in your hand, dear, pass it over. A telegram? Oh dear... yes, Charlie, I can read that someone is challenging me. No, Charlie, I don't know why he'd do a foolish thing like that. Yes, Charlie, just shoosh, and fetch me my trousers at once! No, not those those are my sneaking trousers... those are my lecturing trousers... yes, that's it! Those ones, my duelling trousers!"
Dear Sir, regarding your recent foray
Into the duelling business and the scene you portray
See, I don't normally approve of war games
But "He wants to duel you" is what they all say.
And by the Masters, they might be right!
This is the Ribbon, not a silly bar fight!
Shelve this Feducci impersonation,
Let it end now, it's impertinent waiting!
You seem a reasonable gent, when your letter was sent
I'm sure that you meant it
But it's just not likely that your plan is the ticket
Put away that ratwork rifle or I'll tell you where to stick it!
I – Don't like your tweed, Sir!
Will – Teach you the Professor's ready
Not – Let's see who strikes the loudest
Lose – Put on my duelling trousers.
I've got Vakeskin Boots and a Working Rat,
You've got Dancemaster's Dabs and a Ridiculous Hat.
Don't look around, Sir, I'm speaking to you
Roll up your shirt sleeves, Father Norton's rules!
Never test professors with the cleverest wits,
Let's settle this like gentlemen, armed with heavy sticks
On the dome of St Fiacre's, in the dark of the morning,
Your luck's run out, weasel- I gave you fair warning.
When this good fellow tries to start fighting
Audiences fall asleep, he's so unexciting.
A new ambition might be more rewarding
So go back to the silk scraps that you've been hoarding!
I – Don't like your tweed, Sir!
Will – Teach you the Professor's ready
Not – Let's see who strikes the loudest
Lose – Put on my duelling trousers.
I don't see you in the Labyrinth, or up in the Flit
Or at the Docks- Dear sir, you're not worthy of it!
Sold your soul to the devils for barely a bat-
You should never take off your Ridiculous Hat!
Hope it's safe to assume you won't do it again,
Step up to my house and get ruined again.
So begone, you rake, try going to zee-
There's not room in the 'Neath for two duellists like me!
Please leave town by the end of this song,
Sincerely, and so forth, et cetera, Professor Worthington
I – Don't like your tweed, Sir!
Will – Teach you the Professor's ready
Not – Let's see who strikes the loudest
Lose – Put on my duelling trousers!
"Sorry, this is just upsetting. Gets my hackles right up. Charile, get off the drums, this is going to be presented to the Empress. Yes, Charlie, I know I'm not welcome in the Empress's Court. Yes, Charlie, I know she wouldn't approve of such language. Just get off the drums, and could you be quiet, just for one moment."
