Our Con on the Way to the Con

[kjn]

filkerdave is getting over to Sweden (and Finland) for Archipelacon. He said he wanted to sleep on the (early morning) ferry, missing that the con doesn't start in Mariehamn but as soon as the ferries leave the harbours in Helsinki, Stockholm, and Turku.

As I tried to explain that to him, I accidentally placed a few words to the tune of Dan Andersson's Helgdagskväll i timmerkojan (YouTube - one of many).


Flee, fannish fatigue when with Roscoe we walk,
the mundane now leaves and is gone.
We have fans, we have bheer, we have places to talk,
it's our con on the way to the con.

Sing, Dave Weingart, as your voice is strong,
of filk and Ozymandias!
Tune your guitar, Wissting, and now play a song,
for the waters on which we pass.

We travel slowly away from our old home,
as the sun never sets or goes down,
we pass islands and go over blue-green foam,
we are bound for Archipelacon.

You are fair, Weingart, as the sun paints you red,
singing A Fire Upon the Deep,
For bheer and Roscoe you the mundane has shed,
it is fanac and no time to sleep

And Martin, there you sit on your iron throne
a lord to producers who nod
though the books have grown, and the years have flown
among fans you are young as a god!

And Karin Tidbeck, you sit there so quiet,
alone with the words that you wrote,
come, sing with us, break your introvert diet,
and bring us your sad little goat!

And as sun goes high and we pull into port,
Åland brightly from fanac will glow,
as the harbour now trembles from our transport,
to Archipelacon we now go.

There meet we again our old Finnish friends,
real as the fanac so dear,
we dream and hope of egoboo that us cleanse,
we are given the promise of bheer!


(Sadly, Wissting didn't have space for the guitar in the car.)

ETA: Wrote another verse pair.

ETA: Some final editing, and notes.