The splendid Scottish folksinger Karine Polwart tweeted one day about witnessing a girl being told not to climb a tree because she was in a very nice skirt. Or maybe just in a nice skirt, it was some time ago, and either way, this little song fell happily out and has been sung a handful of times since.
There is a particularly British distinction, I think, betweem a skirt, a nice skirt, and a very nice skirt. And you can climb trees in any of them, so there.
“Polly,” by Talis Kimberley, a very modern song in a charmingly traditional style.
@seananmcguire‘s Wicked Girls is a favorite of mine, and though it’s not explicitly about the lgbt community, for a while I’ve been thinking about it as such. But hey, filk is all about adaptation and the meanings the audience gets from a song – so a few days ago I decided to write my own version.
My Wicked Girls is dedicated to all of the fictional wlw who deserved better than their narratives gave them, and to all the real wlw who deserve the world.
Lady MacBeth said to Helen of Troy
When they finished the wine they’d been drinking
“I’m all for regicide once in a while, but
Helen, dear, what were you thinking?”
“Archetype Cafe,” by Talis Kimberley, for all the reviled and diminished women of history and myth, with Tim Walker on drums and Simon Fairbourn on bassoon (and holy hell he is good). Lyrics available here.
Like a princess in a castle
Like a queen without a king
Like a present wrapped in ribbons
Or a bird with broken wings
She is waiting to be rescued
She is waiting to be free
If someone could only tell her
Just who she’s supposed to be
‘Cause she was not the biggest fighter nor one to raise a fuss
But I remember being proud that she was one of us
And we might never stand together in the shield-wall side by side
But because of her I lift my sword with pride
So Heather Dale recently put out a children’s album, which is basically a “my first filk” compilation, and this song seems to be here to encourage little girls to join the SCA and beat the crap out of people.
For we will be wicked and we will be fair
And they'll call us such names, and we really won't care,
So go, tell your Wendys, your Susans, your Janes,
There's a place they can go if they're tired of chains,
And our roads may be golden, or broken, or lost,
But we'll walk on them willingly, knowing the cost -
We won't take our place on the shelves.
It's better to fly and it's better to die
Say the wicked girls saving ourselves.