My HP Filks

[Mlle Bienvenu]

Another Flanders and Swann filk (these guys are just begging to be filked....LOL.... This is to the song, the Omnibus or A Transport of Delight)

The Knight Bus

Ernie: Some talk of apparating,
Stan: Some say a broom for me
Ernie: Or for some floo powder
They'd lay them doon and dee.
Stan: Such means of locomotion
Seem rather dull to us
Ernie: The Driver
Stan: and Conductor of
Both: the wizarding Knight Bus!

Stan: Hold very tight please, bang-bang!

Stan: When you’re a wizard in trouble,
And you don't know where you are,
Just sticks your blooming wand out
and we’ll never be too far!
And very soon you'll find yourself
Inside the Terminus
In a Wizard Transport
magic powered
Nine gazillion horse-power
Knight Bus!

Ernie: Along the Queen's great highway
I drive my merry load
At two hundred miles per hour
In the middle of the road;
Don’t worry ‘bout that building,
It pays no mind to us,
The big six-wheeler
Purple-painted
Wizard Transport
magic powered
Nine gazillion horse-power
Knight Bus!


Ernie: Earth has not anything to show more fair!
Stan: Mind the stairs! Mind the stairs!
Ernie: Earth has not anything to show more fair!
Stan: Any more fares? Any more fares? Anymore fares?

Ernie: When we get another rider,
Before we overtakes,

Stan: I sticks me flippin’ wand out

Ernie: As I jams on all me brakes!
All the other passengers
Can only swear and cuss,
In that monarch of the road,
Stan: Observer of no Highway Code,
Ernie: That big six-wheeler
Stan: Purple-painted
Ernie: Wizard Transport
Stan: magic powered
Ernie: Nine gazillion horse-power
Both: Knight Bus!

Ernie: I stops when I'm requested
Although it spoils the ride,
So he can shout: 'Get in here!
We’ve got spare beds inside!'

Stan: We don't ask much for wages,
We only want fair shares,
So cut down all the stages,
And stick up all the fares.
If a bed cost a sickle apeice
Why should you make a fuss?
Ernie: It's worth it just to ride inside
Stan: That thirty-foot-long by ten-foot-wide,
Ernie: Inside that monarch of the road,
Stan: Observer of no Highway Code,
Ernie: That big six-wheeler
Stan: Purple-painted
Ernie: Wizard Transport
Stan: Magic powered
Ernie: Nine gazillion horse-power
Both: Knight Bus!

Stan: Hold very tight please! Bang-Bang!


===========================

and here's the original:

Some talk of a Lagonda,
Some like a smart M.G.,
Or for Bonnie Army Lorry
They'd lay them doon and dee.
Such means of locomotion
Seem rather dull to us
The Driver and Conductor
Of a London Omnibus.

Hold very tight please, ting-ting!

When you are lost in London
And you don't know where you are,
You'll hear my voice a-calling:
'Pass further down the car!'
And very soon you'll find yourself
Inside the Terminus
In a London Transport
Diesel-engined
Ninety-seven horse-power
Omnibus!

Along the Queen's great highway
I drive my merry load
At twenty miles per hour
In the middle of the road;
We like to drive in convoys
We're most gregarious;
The big six-wheeler
Scarlet-painted
London Transport
Diesel-engined
Ninety-seven horse-power
Omnibus!

Earth has not anything to show more fair!
Mind the stairs! Mind the stairs!
Earth has not anything to show more fair!
Any more fares? Any more fares?
When cabbies try to pass me,
Before they overtakes,
I sticks me flippin' hand out
As I jams on all me brakes!
Them jackal taxi-drivers
Can only swear and cuss,
Behind that monarch of the road,
Observer of the Highway Code,
That big six-wheeler
Scarlet-painted London Transport
Diesel-engined
Ninety-seven horse-power
Omnibus!

I stops when I'm requested
Athough it spoils the ride,
So he can shout: 'Get aht of it!
We're full right up inside!'

We don't ask much for wages,
We only want fair shares,
So cut down all the stages,
And stick up all the fares.
If tickets cost a pound apiece
Why should you make a fuss?
It's worth it just to ride inside
That thirty-foot-long by ten-foot-wide, Inside that monarch of the road,
Observer of the Highway Code,
That big six-wheeler
Scarlet-painted
London Transport
Diesel-engined
Ninety-seven horse-power
Omnibus!

[Mlle Bienvenu]

Not a really well planned filk, but eh....I thought I'd post it anyway...To the Barry Manilow song, "Copacabana"

His name was Lupin, he was a werewolf
He had beady yellow eyes and told a packet full of lies
He would transmutate during the full moon
And while he could have been alone, His friends wouldn't let him down
And so the the Howarts Four, they were in Gryffindor
They were animagi who had each other
Who could ask for more?

At the Shreiking (Shriek!), Shreiki-ing Sha-ack (Shack!)
A place where a werewolf won't attack (here)
At the Shreiking (Shriek!), Shreiki-ing Sha-ack
It was the station for his transformation
At the Shrieking....they played a prank.

(Shreiking Shack)

His name was Sev'rus, The Head of Slyth'rin
Lupin didn't take his drink, where he was Sevvie couldn't think
And when he followed, he was in the Shack
And Sev'rus saw that Sirius, and Sev'rus wished Black had a Kiss.
And then the curses flew, to reveal Pettigrew
There was blood and a single wand shot,
But just who cursed who?

At the Shreiking (Shriek!), Shreiki-ing Sha-ack (Shack!)
A place where a werewolf won't attack (here)
At the Shreiking (Shriek!), Shreiki-ing Sha-ack
It was the station for his transformation
At the Shrieking....the rat got away...

(Shrieking. . The Shrieking Shack)
(Shrieking The Shreiking Shack) (The Shrieking Shack, ahh ahh ahh ahh)
(Ahh ahh ahh ahh Shrieking The Shrieiking Shack)
(Always the station...for his transforma--shun)



His name was Peter, he was a their friend
But that was 13 years ago, he betrayed them, now they know
And he escaped them, went to the Dark Lord
right under their eyes, he used his clever rat disguise
He's at Vold'mort's command, and does what Vol'mort's planned
He lost his friends and he lost his cover
Now he's lost his hand!

'Cause at the Shreiking (Shriek!), Shreiki-ing Sha-ack (Shack!)
A place where a werewolf won't attack (here)
At the Shreiking (Shriek!), Shreiki-ing Sha-ack
It was the station for his transformation
At the Shrieking....the rat got away...

(Shrieking) the rat got away...
The Shrieking Shack
The Shrieking Shack....

[Mlle Bienvenu]

This is a filk based on the song, 'The Elephant' by Flanders and Swann.


Being a famous sorcerer is incredible, not slow
I've been a sorcerer all me life so I blooming well ought to know.

They never forget my name or face, ooooh!
They follow me from place to place, ooooh!
I, of course, am smiling wide
And gracefully will swell with pride
the publicity that spreads my fame
from all the books that bear my name, ooooh!

And all because a perfect smile got me in Witch Weekly.
But that wasn’t enough for me!

So I'm suffering from amnesia
My mind's a perfect blank!
Now life is very much easier
And Weasley’s wand’s to thank;
I'm being psychoanalyzed,
I lie on a divan
And flash a smile and try to look charming as I can!

I'm an Extroverted, Gilderoy-centric, megalomaniac,
And I'll stick in St Mungo’s hospital till I get me memory back!

I'm a kleptomaniac,
My charm, it never fails,
Obliviating their memories
So I can spin me tales;
I've stolen their achievements
The world will never guess
That ugly witches and wizards
Are the secret to success!

I'm an Extroverted, Gilderoy-centric, kleptomaniac,
And I'll stick in St.Mungo’s Hospital till I get me memory back!

I suffer from megalomania
Head’s as wide as it is long
Now I’m off to save Armenia
(or, that’s what I tell the throng.)
I’ve saved them all from werewolves
(or at least that’s what I wrote)
They never guess that all the time
I'm laughing in me throat!

I'm an Extroverted, Gilderoy-centric, Megalomaniac,
And I'll stick in St. Mungo’s Hospital till I get me memory back!

(Hums very badly)
Practicing me charming winning smile!
(More humming very badly)
And I'll stick in St. Mungo’s Hospital till I get me memory,
get me memory,
get me memory back!

------------------------------

A elephant's life is tedious, laborious and slow
I've been an elephant all me life so I blooming well ought to know.
He never forgets a name or face ooooh!
He knows his way from place to place ooooh!
Remembers to be dutiful
And when to push and when to pull
An when he's dead the dealer calls
And buys his tusks for biliard balls ooooh!
And all because an elephant's got a perfect memory.
That wasn't the life for me!
So I'm suffering form amnesia
My mind's a perfect blank!
Now life is very much easier
Amnesia's to thank;
I'm being psychoanalysed,
I lie on a divan
And flap me ears and try to look a barmy as I can!
I'm an Introverted, Elephocentric, Hypochondriac,
And I'll stick in the Elephant's nursing home till I get me memory back!

I'm suffering from Hysteria,
I nearly split me sides,
To watch the others get wearier
of giving children rides;
I've told my psychoanalyst
that I'm a sacred cow
I'd like to carry a Howdah
but I can't remember how!
I'm an Introverted, Elephocentric, Hypochondriac,
And I'll stick in the Elephant's nursing home till I get me memory back!

I suffer from Schizophrenia
It comes on me in spells
Sometimes I'm King of Armenia
At others I'm Orson Welles.
I tell them I'm Napoleon
and all that sort of bunk
They never guess that all the time
I'm laughing up me trunk!
I'm an Introverted, Elephocentric, Hypochondriac,
And I'll stick in the Elephant's nursing home till I get me memory back!
(Elephant noises)
Practising me trumpet half the night,
(More Elephant noises)
And I'll stick in the Elephant's nursing home till I get me memory,
get me memory,
get me memory back!

[Mlle Bienvenu]

This filk is based on Flanders and Swann’s ‘The Gnu’


The Knut Song

A year ago, last Thursday
I was strolling down the lane
when I wandered to a coin collector’s shop
He was laying down the law about exchange rates in Peru and how many different coins Japan has got.
So I asked him:
'What's that coin over there?'
He answered: 'Oh, it's a h’Eagle'
I might of gone on thinking that was that.
If the odd old man nearby hadn’t put that chap to shame
And remarked: 'It h'aint a h'Eagle’<br>It’s a K-nut.'

'It’s a K-nut
It’s a K-nut
The K-nicest coin the wizarding world has got
It’s a K-nut
It’s a K-nut
You really ought to k-now w-hat’s w-hat
It’s a K-nut
Pronounce kuh and nut
It’s k-not a Sickle or a Galleon but
just let me introduce
It’s k-neither man or moose
Oh k-no k-no k-no It’s a k-nut'

I had taken furnished lodgings at The Leaky Cauldron Inn
Whence I travelled on to Ashton-under-Lyne it was actually
And the second night I stayed there I was woken from a dream
That I'll tell you all about some other time
I strolled down Diagon Alley and I came upon a bank
And looked to see what the goblin’s got
A Sickle? No, it's not a Sickle. A Galleon? Unlikely, Really. The Bronze Olympic Medal?
When I thought I heard a voice:
It’s a k-nut.

'It’s a K-nut
A k-nother k-nut
The K-nicest coin the wizarding world has got
It’s a K-nut
It’s a K-nut
You really ought to k-now w-hat’s w-hat
It’s a K-nut
Said kuh and nut
without a silent ‘k’ like some have thought
Isn’t it just k-nice that you asked someone’s advice
Oh, k-no, k-no, k-no,
K-no k-no k-no It’s a k-nut
K-no k-no k-no It’s a k-nut

-----------------

A year ago, last Thursday
I was strolling in the zoo
when I met a man who though he knew the lot.
He was laying down the law about the habits of baboons and how many spines a porcupine has got.
So I asked him:
'What's that creature there'
He answered: 'Oh, it's a h'Elk'
I might of gone on thinking that was true
If the animal in question hadn't put that chap to shame
And remarked: 'I h'aint a h'Elk
I'm a Gnu'
'I'm a Gnu
I'm a Gnu
The g-nicest work of g-nature in the zoo
I'm a Gnu
How do you do
You really ought to k-now w-ho's w-ho's
I'm a Gnu
Spelt G-N-U
I'm g-not a Camel or a Kangaroo
So let me introduce
I'm g-neither man or moose
Oh g-no g-no g-no I'm a Gnu'

I had taken furnished lodgings down at Rustington-on-Sea
Whence I travelled on to Ashton-under-Lyne it was actually
And the second night I stayed there I was woken from a dream
That I'll tell you all about some other time
Among the hunting trophies on the wall above my bed
Stuffed and mounted, was a face I thought I knew;
A Bison? No, it's not a Bison. An Okapi? Unlikely, Really. A Hartebeest?
When I though I heard a voice:
I'm a Gnu
I'm a Gnu
A g-nother gnu
I wish I could g-nash my teeth at you
I'm a Gnu
How do you do
You really ought to k-now w-ho's w-ho's
I'm a Gnu
Spelt G-N-U
Call me Bison or Okapi and I'll sue
G-nor am I the least like that dreadful Hartebeest,
Oh, g-no, g-no, g-no,
G-no g-no g-no I'm a Gnu
G-no g-no g-no I'm a Gnu

[Mlle Bienvenu]

Another Flanders and Swann filk, this time to the tune of 'Madeira M'dear'

Write in M’diary M’dear

She was young, she was pure, she was new, she was nice,
She was fair, she was eleven-teen.
He was sly, he was vile, and no stranger to vice,
He was base, he was bad, he was mean.
He had inveigled her to open his book
To view his collection of text.
And he said as he hastened to put up a good face, to say what he would say next:
'Write in m’diary, m’dear
You really have nothing to fear
I'm not trying to tempt you, that wouldn't be right
You shouldn't kill roosters at this time of night
Write in m’diary m’dear
You’re very much nicer to hear
I don't care for people who don’t write their heart out
(though this talk about Potter I can do without
It's simply a case of waiting it out)
Write in m’diary m’dear!”<br>
Unaware of the wiles of the snake made of text
The fate of dear Ginny in tropes:
She lowered her standards by raising her pen
Her courage, her eyes and his hopes
She scratched and she scritched till her inkwell was dry
She quietly refilled it again
As she worked with her pen he replied and his words
slowly invaded her brain;

'Write in m’diary, M'dear
Tell me ‘bout this Chamber you fear.
(And once it's been opened, it will not be long,
I’ll finish her off so I can get strong.)
Write in m’diary, m’dear.
It’s been such a trying first year
Now my dear Gin, please keep writing, yes!
(The evil Gin does when her I possess,
If she stopped writing now it’d affect me prowess)
Write in m’diary, m’dear!'

Then it flashed through her mind what her mother has said
an antepenultimate refrain;
'Oh, My child, watch out for magic device if you can’t see
where it keeps it’s brain!'
She threw down the diary with a shrill little cry
Splash! Splosh! It fell into the bowl
Myrtle asked 'What in heaven!?' She made no reply,
Up she went, made a dash for the door.

’Write in m’diary, m’dear!’<br>Rang out in her head, loud and clear
A tremulous cry that was filled with despair
As she paused to take breath in the cool midnight air,
'Write in m’diary, m’dear!'
The words seemed to ring in her ear,
Until sometime later, she woke up on the floor
of the Chamber of Secrets, in her head, a dull roar
She remembered the words that she heard before
'Write in m’diary, m’dear!'
-----------------------------
She was young, she was pure, she was new, she was nice,
She was fair, she was sweet seventeen.
He was old, he was vile, and no stranger to vice,
He was base, he was bad, he was mean.
He had slyly inveigled her up to his flat
To view his collection of stamps
And he said as he hastened to put out the cat, the wine, his cigar and the lamps:
'Have some madeira, M'dear
You really have nothing to fear
I'm not trying to tempt you, that wouldn't be right
You shouldn't drink spirits at this time of night
Have some madeira, M'dear
It's very much nicer than beer
I don't care for sherry, one cannot drink stout
and port is a wine I can well do without
It's simply a case of Chacun à son gout
Have some madeira, M'dear!'

Unaware of the wiles of the snake in the grass
The fate of the maiden who topes
She lowered her standards by raising her glass
Her courage, her eyes and his hopes
She sipped it, she drank it, she drained it, she did
He quietly refilled it again
And he said, as he secretly carved one more notch
on the butt of his gold-handled cane;

'Have some Madeira, M'dear
I've got a small cask of it here.
And once it's been opened, you know it won't keep
Do finish it off, it'll hlp you to sleep
Have some Madeira, M'dear
It's really an excellent year
Now if it were Gin you'd be wrong to say yes
The evil gin does would be hard to assess
Besides, it's inclined to affect me prowess
Have some Madeira, M'dear!'

Then it flashed through her mind what her mother has said
with her antepenultimate breath;
'Oh, My child, is you look on the wine that is red
then prepare for a fate worse than death!'
She let go the glass with a shrill little cry
Crash! Tinkle! It fell to the floor
When he asked 'What in heaven?' she made no reply,
Up her mind, and a dash for the door.
'Have some Madeira, M'dear'
Rang out down the hall, loud and clear
A tremulous cry that was filled with despair
As she paused to take breath in the cool midnight air,
'Have some Madeira, M'dear!'
The words seemed to ring in her ear,
Until the next morning, she woke up in bed
With a smile on her lips and an ache in her head
And a beard in her earhole that tickled and said
'Have some Madeira, M'dear!'