Empire filks.

(These are just here for me to find later. Move along.)

I’ve an awful habit of filking. These first two I wrote to sell the book “All for Anvil” in off-game time at Empire events, the last is an in-game song

This one I am ashamed of.

Do you ever feel like you statted wrong,

Drifting through the event, wanting to start again?

Do you ever feel your plot’s so paper thin

Like a house of cards, one blow from cavin’ in?

Do you ever feel you’re wasting your time?

Shouting you’ve nothing to do, but no one seems to hear a thing

Do you know that there’s still a chance for you?

‘Cause there’s book for you

You just gotta ignite the light

And let it shine

Just own the event

With this book full of tips,

‘Cause reader, you’re a firework

Come on, show ’em what you’re worth

Make ’em go, “Oh, oh, oh”

As you shoot across the field

Reader, you’re a firework

Come on, let yourself immerse

Make ’em go, “Oh, oh, oh”

You’re gonna leave ’em all in awe, awe, awe

This one is even worse.

If you wanna be rich and you want lots of money

Or you don’t care about that, just want to fill up your tummy,

If you want loads of fighting and you want loads of battles

But you’d heard people die while they are trying to win them,

Or you’re running for Empress, and it will be shameless

‘Cause everyone knows that’s how you get famous

Then just buy this book, maybe just look at the pictures

You’ll be on the right track, yeah, you’ll be on to a winner

If you don’t know the rules, or what’s fun anymore

And you don’t know how you’re meant to play anymore

This book will make it all become clear.

You won’t be taken over by the fear, any more

(One of) the Tom A’bedlam songs

(This is sanded down a bit for Empire; the original has real-world references that were a bit too specific for my ears. And it’s too long to sing in-game. This is OK.)

From the hagg and hungrie goblin, That into raggs would rend ye,

And the spirit that stands by the naked man, In the Book of Moones – defend ye!

That of your five sound senses, You never be forsaken,

Nor wander from your selves with Tom, Abroad to beg your bacon.

While I doe sing “any foode, any feeding, Feedinge, drinke or clothing,”

Sweet Cit’zens all, be not afraid, Poor Tom will injure nothing.

Of thirty bare years have I Twice twenty been enraged,

And of forty been three times fifteen In durance soundly caged.

On the lordly lofts of Bedlam, With stubble soft and dainty,

Brave bracelets strong, sweet whips ding-dong, With wholesome hunger plenty.

While I doe sing “any foode, any feeding, Feedinge, drinke or clothing,”

Sweet Cit’zens all, be not afraid, Poor Tom will injure nothing.

With a host of furious fancies Whereof I am commander,

With a burning spear and a horse of air, To the wilderness I wander.

By a knight of ghostes and shadowes I summon’d am to tourney

Ten leagues beyond the wild world’s end. Methinks it is no journey.

While I doe sing “any foode, any feeding, Feedinge, drinke or clothing,”

Sweet Cit’zens all, be not afraid, Poor Tom will injure nothing.