Lyrics: Maureen O'Brien
Music: To the tune of "Nessie, Come Up", (C) Dr Jane Robinson
In a junior high school in Ohio,
I hated "Deathbird" - but got hooked.
There's a certain "City"
That I saw on TV;
There was Harlan wherever I looked!
Then I heard he'd caught some kind of syndrome
That sucked strength from his body too long.
Alas for his plight!
He just couldn't write.
Now he's well, but he's deafened by song...
"Ellison, write! We're waiting.
We've waited for you for so long.
We'll love Blood's a Rover whenever it's over,
But it's overdue, is our song.
We pray for the "...Sunken Cathedral";
"Demon on the Run" must be strong.
Last Dangerous Visions --
Alas, it still isn'.
Ah, Harlan, we've waited so long!"
Onboard the fifth Babylon station --
Two million tons of spinning steel --
The Great Maker sits;
Th' Ombudsman picks nits;
And they make their world risky -- and real.
But their Bible's still up in the heavens,
And we ain't seen no Harlan tales yet.
Alas for our plight!
All alone in the night,
You can hear us howl over the Net....
I was whisked off to Ellison Wonderland
But the joy in my heart turned to ice
When my hands weren't set free,
And the man looked at me
And the smile on his face was not... nice.
Now I languish in Ellison's jail-land
And he tortures me ev-er-y day.
Alas for my plight!
He describes what he'll write,
But won't finish -- it's turning me gray!
E-mail mobrien at dnaco.net