Gabrielle, you're a bard, aren't you?

Studying to be, sir.

Well, it's a boring stretch here, give us a song.

What kind of song do you want, sire?

Something adventurous.

How about 'Brave, Brave, Brave,
Brave Sir Robin?'

No, no, that's alright. Besides, I think the man who owns that copyright, uh, died.

Didn't we eat him in the bitter wastes of Mercia?

I, uh, I don't remember.

That was YOUR minstrel? YOU are the Robin of Brave, etcetera, Robin?

Uh, yeah.

Boy, that 'Truth In Advertising Act' can't get here ANY too soon!

Do you know the one about the little Goblin?

'See the little goblin,
See his little feet,
Look at his little hat,
Oh, isn't the goblin sweet.'

No, don't know it.

Darn.

That's the stupidest thing I ever heard. Star woman, star flight, star sea, star trek.... Who the hell came up with that star-eyed idiocy?

Gene Rodden-

WHOA! No need to cast any aspersions on the author, I mean, it doesn't matter, really, does it?

No.
No, I suppose not.

Any songs with lots of death?

There's always:

One dead man in a couplet? It doesn't even rhyme.

Oh, now this is getting better.

Wait! There's more than two lines to the song?

Fifteen men of the whole ship's list
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Dead and be damned and the rest gone whist!
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
The skipper lay with his nob in gore
Where the scullion's axe his cheek had shore
And the scullion he was stabbed times four
And there they lay, and the soggy skies
Dripped down in up-staring eyes
In murk sunset and foul sunrise
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

Fifteen men of 'em stiff and stark
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Ten of the crew had the murder mark!
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum! '
Twas a cutlass swipe or an ounce of lead
Or a yawing hole in a battered head
And the scuppers' glut with a rotting red
And there they lay, aye, damn my eyes
Looking up at paradise
All souls bound just contrawise
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

Fifteen men of 'em good and true
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Ev'ry man jack could ha' sailed with Old Pew,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
There was chest on chest of Spanish gold
With a ton of plate in the middle hold
And the cabins riot of stuff untold,
And they lay there that took the plum
With sightless glare and their lips struck dumb
While we shared all by the rule of thumb,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!

More was seen through a sternlight screen...
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Chartings undoubt where a woman had been
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum. '
Twas a flimsy shift on a bunker cot
With a dirk slit sheer through the bosom spot
And the lace stiff dry in a purplish blot
Oh was she wench or some shudderin' maid
That dared the knife and took the blade
By God! she had stuff for a plucky jade
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

And we heaved 'em over and out of sight,
With a Yo-Heave-Ho! and a fare-you-well
And a sudden plunge in the sullen swell
Ten fathoms deep on the road to hell,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!

I wonder...does anyone have a marlinspike on them?

I dunno, that hawser's bight seems like a deadly weapon. Sounds all long and spiky... probably nicely weighted...

So, how about a song about, oh, say, King Arthur?

Beware of pretty faces that you find.
A pretty face may hide an evil mind.
Ooh be careful what you say.
Or you give yourself away.
Odds are you won’t live to see tomorrow.
Party Member Man.
Party Member Man.
They’ve given you quest now,
But they're calling it a game. 

Staking thru a vampire's heart on one day Chased 'long by a wolf that's dire the next.
Oh don’t let the big sword slip,
While slaying the beasts that rip.
Odds are you won’t live to see tomorrow.
Party Member Man.
Party Member Man.
They’ve given you quest now,
But they're calling it a game.

It is now....

Excuse me?

Bard.