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Former Chief Michael has been changed by lights that glowed.
Poor Garibaldi who forgot his Psi Corps code!
He thinks the captain's rule is fascist (and it really sucks),
But he's forgotten Bester and his penchant for mind-fucks.
Yesterday he worked and played in his B5 paradise,
Eating pepperoni and bustin' folks for vice.
Now he's wrapped up on a table,
Pawn of people not so nice.
He's nobody's buddy, n-o-w!

Now, you who love Italians, don't ever give them booze.
Don't shut them in a metal tank until their minds they lose.
Or else it's with Security you'll find you have to battle,
And it's Army of the Light's cage for sure you're gonna rattle!
If you separate the captain from that good man, Michael G,
Then John-Boy loses his support as Justin said t'would be.
The Shadows may be gone now, but there's still some enemies.
Mike's nobody's buddy.
(He's just mean and bald and nutty.)
Mike's nobody's buddy, n-o-w!

copyright 1997 @ Sherry Thompson (aka SherryT)

1. (ttto Wooden Whistle)
Never go into the forest, the fairies' dim forest
When they brew their acorn brew.
If you go into the forest, the fairies' dim forest
At least bring a book and some glue.

Fairies can't hold their liquor, their antics get sicker
When they brew their acorn beer.
They try to keep flitting, they try to keep flying,
But, when drunk, they really can't steer.

They have keg-diving contests and other such nonsense
When they brew their acorn ales.
They'll dive at you with thistles, to use as small missiles,
Using acorns for maces and flails.

So don't go into the forest, the fairies' dim forest,
Learn at least this much of their lore.
If you go into the forest, the fairies' dim forest,
I fear you'll come out never more.

2. (ttto Teddy Bears' Picnic)
If you go into the woods tonight
You'll wish you had stayed at home.
There's acorn ale in the woods tonight
With fairies smashed from the foam.
For every elf that ever there was
Is drinking deep and feeling the buzz.
Tonight's the night
Of the annual Brown Ale Picnic.

Acorn ale and elven wings!
The itty bitty things
Are smashing into the trees tonight.
Dodge them, duck them in their lairs,
And see them party on their moonlit night.
See them wildly fly about.
They sing and shriek and shout.
They think everything's a joke.
By morning light, they're moaning and groaning.
They toddle off to bed,
Cause they're hung over fairy folk.

3. (ttto Jug O'Punch)
1) In the fairy realm, there's a night in fall
When the fairy folk have their Brown Ale Ball.
Beware the forest upon that eve,
Lest you too get smashed before you can leave.

Duck the fairy drunks as they flit around.
Don't you tread on ones sprawled there on the ground.
Beware the forest upon that eve,
Lest you too get smashed before you can leave.

2) When each tiny fairy has drunk his fill,
They fly upside down all around their hill.
They'll dive at humans with clubs of twigs,
Once each fairy's had one too many swigs.

Duck the fairy drunks as they flit around.
Don't you tread on ones sprawled there on the ground.
They'll dive at humans with clubs of twigs,
Once each fairy's had one too many swigs.

3) Bring a book and glue on their festive night.
When they fly at you, snap the pages tight!
Press thirty elves just as flat as flowers.
With a little luck, it won't take two hours.

Duck the fairy drunks as they flit around.
Don't you tread on ones sprawled there on the ground.
Press thirty elves just as flat as flowers.
With a little luck, it won't take two hours.

4) And when you're done and your tome is home,
Your smashed fairies sit by your Tome of Gnomes.
Such pretty still lifes to show your peers...
Though, in time, the odor grows rather queer.

Duck the fairy drunks as they flit around.
Don't you tread on ones sprawled there on the ground.
Such pretty still lifes to show your peers...
Though, in time, the odor grows rather queer.

4. (ttto Waltzin' Matilda)
Smashing the fairies,
Smashing the fairies,
Please come a-smashing the fairies with me.
Thus we sing as we tote our albums and our pots of glue.
Please come a-smashing the fairies with me.

By Sherry Thompson, copyright, 1998

With thanks to Brian Froud and Terry Jones.

Please feel free to sing this.
Please do -not- copy or print elsewhere. Thanks!