When I was a young girl
by Suzette Elgin
from the "Bayfilk III; Back Stage" album
(Off Centaur Publications)
 
When I was a young girl
and searching for lovers
I found them under rocks
and I found them in bars.
But now that I'm older
my taste is much better;
I find them at filksings
behind their giutars.
I find them under banjos
and mandolins and autoharps;
I find them ocapella
and decked with cazoo's...
and it gives me no trouble
to make my selection
for I know how they'll perform
by the songs that they choose.

There's the flashy gitaurist
with the voice of a drunken angle
whose careful renditions
are flawless as silk.
He always has mastered
the very latest lyrics;
When his tern comes around
you get quality filk.
But he'll leap from your bed
at the strangest of moments
with a cry of "I've got it!"
"That cord is a B
(dominante seventh augment fifth-
flat nineth add eleventh thirteenth)"
So beware of the lover
who leaps on his thumbpick
Come all you young maidens
take warning by me.

Then there's the filker
who's funky and mellow;
his songs have the tang
of a bright autom day.
The casual ease
of this charming young fellow
might lead you to fancy
he'd shine in the hay.
But he'll ask you hard questions
at the strangest of moments-
like- "If you were an insect,"
"Which one would you be?"
Beware of the lover
so laid back he's falling over
Come all ye young maidens
take warning by me.

And next is the young man
whose specailty is derges
more oase than the dankest drizzle
he morns and he moans.
He sings of dying cheiftens
in songs with thirty-seven verses
and he only plays minor chords
on the instruments he owns.
You may think him romantic,
poetic and frantic
but "Down" is his preposition-
he loathes levity-
(No Comment)
Beware of the lover
who weeps over his keyboard
Come all ye young maidens
and take warning by me.

Let's turn now to the filker
who's tone-deaf and tuneless;
He knows only one chord
and he always sings flat.
When you hear him learch into
a song that's nearly decomposing
and ask everyone to sing along
then take notice of that.
He'll care more for your pleasure
than the beats in his messure
and he won't be devising lyrics
while stroking your knee...
So give me the lover
who flattens every bardic circle
Come all ye young maids and
take warning by me.