Acts of Creation Words and music by Catherine Faber CHORUS: You can tell it on the mountain, in the valley far below, But you needn't tell the craftsmen, for they already know, From the author at her keyboard to the *blacksmith at his lathe Every act of creation is an act of faith! From the rancher mending fences with the wire she has found, To the farmer on his tractor putting seed-corn in the ground, In this world of fear and anger, when it's easy to destroy, Every act of creation is an act of joy. CHORUS So we reach for art and music, though we know it will be flawed, Yet in striving to do better, we are reaching out to God. We are reaching for perfection, and it's not beyond our scope; Every act of creation is an act of hope. CHORUS: You can tell it on the mountain, in the valley far below, But you needn't tell the craftsmen what they already know, From the author at her keyboard to the blacksmith at his lathe, Every act of creation is an act of faith! Though you work with words or metal, living things or stone or glass, If you don't love what you're making, it will never come to pass. From the humming of a baby, to the works of God above, Every act of creation is an act of love. CHORUS *recorded by Kathy Mar as "woodwright." Copyright (c) 1994 by Catherine Faber Warrior Maid Words and music by Cat Faber For I am a warrior, death walks at my shoulder And the taking of life is my trade And steel is not harder and ice is not colder Than the heart of a warrior maid. They called me hard hearted, the kin that I left To carve out my fortune in war They said I was cruel, of conscience bereft, As cold as the blade that I bore, Ah, but I am a warrior, death walks at my shoulder And the taking of life is my trade And steel is not harder and ice is not colder Than the heart of a warrior maid. He came to the battlefield to number the slain In livery of yellow and green And his soft eyes were darkened by sorrow or pain As he numbered the blazons he'd seen. Ah, but I am a warrior, death walks at my shoulder And the taking of life is my trade And steel is not harder and ice is not colder Than the heart of a warrior maid. I stood at my post in the dusk of the day And he passed with his lists and his pen. And I found myself watching him walking away, Reminding myself once again . . . I am a warrior, death walks at my shoulder And the taking of life is my trade And steel is not harder and ice is not colder Than the heart of a warrior maid. I brought from the battlefield the blade that I bore Returning with life as my prize And he saw the dark blood across the armor I wore And I watched the fear shine in his eyes. Ah, but I am a warrior, death walks at my shoulder And the taking of life is my trade And steel is not harder and ice is not colder Than the heart of a warrior maid. But he caught at my arm as I turned from his side With no thought for the blood on my glove. "It's a bitter hard thing," he said, "that you might have died Before ever I spoke of my love." Ah, but I am a warrior, death walks at my shoulder And the taking of life is my trade And steel is not harder and ice is not colder Than the heart of a warrior maid. No shield maid am I, but a warrior still And my husband walks proud at my side And no soldier has harmed him, and none ever will, Though many the foeman has tried, But I am a warrior, love walks at my shoulder And the shielding of life is my trade And faith gets no truer, and love comes no bolder, Than the heart of a warrior maid. Words and music copyright (c) 1993 by Catherine Faber Truelove Words and music by Catherine Faber I am glad enough, when the trip was rough, To stand on solid ground. To raise my glass to a likely lass, Whenever the wine goes round. And I've surely caught that I'm in your thought, And the truth I'll give you free: I wish you joy with some other boy, For you haven't a chance with me. For I love a lady sweet and fey, She is clever, true and brave. There is no lair she will not dare, No soul she scorns to save. With heart and will, with craft and skill She meets with fortune's test, Not for fame, but her own good name, And for me, who loves her best. You will take no trip on a sweeter ship Than the ship I call my own. Through the long slow hauls to the planetfalls Our love and our trust have grown. Though she's glass and steel from head to heel With a skin ceramic-tough, Yet truth to tell, in her metal shell Is a person real enough. And I love a lady sweet and fey, She is clever, true and brave. There is no lair she will not dare, No soul she scorns to save. With heart and will, with craft and skill She meets with fortune's test, Not for fame, but her own good name, And for me, who loves her best. If you like us right, keep your mouth shut tight On story, song or joke. There's an iron grip on my gentle ship, And I never should have spoke. For the Central psychs they are nervous tykes, Who control a Brainship's fate, And they cluck and tisk for the shame and risk, That a man should love his mate! And I love a lady sweet and fey, She is clever, true and brave. There is no lair she will not dare, No soul she scorns to save. With heart and will, with craft and skill She meets with fortune's test, Not for fame, but her own good name, And for me, who loves her best. Copyright (c) 1993 by Catherine Faber Edward Words and Music by Kathy Mar (Inspired by the film "Edward Scissorhands") CHORUS (After every verse): Edward, I am dancing in your snow Even though you cannot see me tonight As the light and fragile crystals Touch the lines upon my face And melt among the tears I'm dancing here for you In spite of all my fears The love has seen me through I am dancing here for you. You were a hollow look With horror in your hands You were a magic mind With art at your command You were an innocent With all the lessons still to learn You went away from me I know you never can return. You wore your cookie heart Upon your sleeve for me I started trembling when You finally let me see You were a shining knight With gentle soul and flashing steel Until that winter night When only rage was left to feel. And in my mind tonight I see you climb the stair I see your scissor-hands Caress the ice with care And as the crystal fragments Melt upon the midnight skies I'm dancing once again With teardrops in my eyes. Copyright (c) 1993 by Kathy Mar Woad Warrior Words and music by Zander Nyrond Now our gods' tempers are notoriously short And they fight with each other all day long. But once in a while they gang up on some foe Who they fancy has done them some wrong. Now our gods could destroy them in five seconds flat But that, after all, would not be fair. So it's our sacred duty to smite them instead And again the smell of woad fills the air. And there'll be blue paint running down my shoulders, Blue paint dripping off my elbows and my knees Blue paint coming off on every thing that I touch. When this war is done can we have a little peace? When our gods command us to take to the field There are certain things that we have to do. We must strip to the buff, winter, summer, rain or shine, And then paint ourselves all over bright blue. I don't know how they make it, but I always know when For the odor alone would knock you dead. And it takes all my courage to stand on the spot When they pour it all over my head. And then there's blue paint running down my shoulders, Blue paint dripping off my elbows and my knees Blue paint coming off on every thing that I touch. When this war is done can we have a little peace? And when the battle's over and we have come home It is then that the real fun begins. For we've yet to invent a reliable way Of removing the stuff from our skins. We leave blue prints indelibly all over the place But it doesn't seem to lessen the stain. And a subtle blend of sand crystals, quicklime and lye Opens up new horizons in pain. But still leaves blue paint running down my shoulders, Blue paint dripping off my elbows and my knees Blue paint coming off on every thing that I touch. When this war is done can we have a little peace? Now I don't object to a good healthy scrap I can break peoples' heads with the best. But the smell of this woad brings my hayfever on And I get this nasty rash on my chest. Now I know that the paint is a sacred device So our gods above can tell which is who, But if I have to fight with the stuff on my skin I won't be the only one feeling blue . . . When I've got blue paint running down my shoulders, Blue paint dripping off my elbows and my knees Blue paint coming off on every thing that I touch. When this war is done can we have a little peace? SciFi (Ode to Gofers) Words by David Urbanek Music: "Rawhide" Gofer, gofer, gofer 'til the con is over-- Slaving for the fans of SciFi. Nothing could be greater! Doin' manual labor, Giving it my all for SciFi. CHORUS (after every verse): Move 'em in, get em' out, Get 'em out, move 'em in, Move 'em in, get 'em out, SciFi. Set it up, take it down, Take it down, set it up, Set it up, take it down, SciFi. The filkers want some water and someone lost their daughter I feel like cannon fodder, SciFi. Things are getting squirrely, the leadership must surely Be Larry, Moe and Curly, SciFi. It's volunteer submission so there's no use bitchin' Just go fulfil your mission, SciFi. Grab and fetch and carry, answer any query, Don't eat, drink and be merry, SciFi. We're the unsung heroes; total glory zeroes. Get the guest his cheer'ios, SciFi. Three days straight in high gear; no way I'm coming back here, Except for maybe next year! SciFi. Words (c) copyright 1992, 1993 by David Urbanek That Quade words and music by Catherine Faber He's a rumbler, he's a grumbler, he is hip and he's cool. He is quick and he is wicked, he is nobody's fool. And no-one will be showin' up the rep he has made, Woah---that Quade! He's a cruiser, he's a bruiser, when a storm's on the prowl, He will weather it or tether it by fair means or foul. He's a stalker, not a talker, but his dues he has paid, Woah---that Quade! When he's alone, the girls on the sly Hide at the window to watch him go by, But they say his pretty lady puts them all in the shade, Woah---that Quade! Now a kitten might get bitten where the alleycats play. When he charges you don't argue, you get out of his way. In a while you can smile, when the bruises all fade, Woah---that Quade! Words and music copyright (c) 1993 by Catherine Faber MIZPAH Words and Music by Zander Nyrond C F She was born in the faith of the Sacred Heart C G And the sacrifice upon the tree Am F And he stood by the faith of the Standing Stone C G But their love was destined to be. Am F When he met her, he saw a gold ring she wore C F With an ancient charm it was engraved. Am F And the first time they parted she read it to him Dm Em G That his grieving heart might be saved: CHORUS: Am C Dm The Lord watch between me and thee while we are absent one from Em another Am C Dm Em The Lord watch between me and thee while we are absent one from Am another They were joined in the faith of the Sacred Heart Though their love was sealed long before. But he still put his faith in the Standing Stone And the golden rings they both wore. On the outside they were plain, as tradition ordained That such rings no adornment must bear, But tight against their skins was the ancient charm And a promise that two hearts could share: CHORUS So whether your faith is in the Sacred Heart Or the Crescent, the Wheel, or the Way, There's a truth for you in the ancient charm That can still have meaning today. For the Power of Love is much stronger above Than all the faiths mankind can conceive; And you'll never be far off from the ones you love If you can say these words and believe: CHORUS (Repeat chorus with "the Lady", "the Gods", "the One".) Words and music copyright (c) 1989 by Zander Nyrond Man of Red Words and music by Kathy Mar (to the tune of "Man of War") I am of Starfleet and my heart is sick with dread They issued me my tunic and the color is blood red And every time I close my eyes I see an open tomb They told me to report to the transporter room. Chorus: (After every verse) I am in trouble, I'm Security I am in trouble, I'm Security We beamed down to the planet with our weapons set on "stun." I know my tour is over quite before it has begun The doctor, the first officer, the captain--that makes three The engineer and Sulu--and the other one is me. I hope I can survive all this, but I don't have much hope The aliens are charging and the captain's such a dope He thinks if we charge back it will surprise them and we'll win I'm crouched here waiting for his signal to begin. I've got a bright idea now, if only it will work If I can be the one behind our crazy captain Kirk. I'm ready, and determined, and my phaser's set to "kill." I'll get him in the back as we charge down the hill. I am in trouble, I'm Security. . . . Words and music copyright by Kathy Mar Klingon Warrior's Waltz Words by David Urbanek Music: "Jesus Wants Me For a Sunbeam" When I was just a young Klingon My father said to me "I'm sending you off to school, A warrior you shall be. A warrior, a warrior. There they will make you a warrior. A warrior, a warrior, A fine Klingon warrior you'll be." Some kids gave me problems at school They beat me up each day The rules said that I could not kill them Was there another way? "A stun beam, a stun beam," Father said, "Boy, use a stun beam." A stun beam, a stun beam, I used a stun beam on them. An exercise at basic training Saw our squad under fire Surrounded by enemy troopers The situation dire. Your blasters, your blasters. Sergeant yelled, "Fire your damn blaster!" Your blaster, your blaster. So I fired my blaster at them. When I served on my first starship At weapons console ops We stopped a wimpy Fed vessel And pulled out all the stops. Disruptors, disruptors, Captain said, "Fire your disruptors." Disruptors, disruptors, So I fired disruptors on them. Now I command my own starship I do just what I please We're at war with the Federation We'll bring them to their knees. A warrior, a warrior, Here's where I'll prove I'm a warrior. A warrior, a warrior, A fine Klingon warrior I'll be. Words (c) copyright 1993 by David Urbanek No Such Thing Words and Music by Zander Nyrond On a day of wind and rain my daughter said to me: "The clouds are full of things today, oh Daddy, can you see?" "What kind of things?" I asked her as the clouds went rushing by. "There's whales and seals and dolphins, all swimming in the sky." I took her from the window and I sat her on my knee, And I told her "Stop this foolishness and listen well to me..." CHORUS: There's no such thing as dolphins, And there's no such thing as whales. They're creatures out of fantasy And children's fairy tales. But now my daughter's quiet and she spends too long alone, Gazing from the window at the clouds all tossed and blown, And I know that one day soon now, when she's old enough to dare, She'll want to leave this shielded dome and taste the poisoned air, And she'll learn about the ocean and the clouds that hide the sun, And in spite of all our lying she'll know what we have done. For -- [CHORUS] Words and music copyright 1989 by Zander Nyrond Triptych Words and music by Talis Kimberly I am faced with three doorways, who knows what they hide? I am driven to unlock the secrets inside. They are patterned with gold like some lost work from Kells And I hear as I touch them the sweet sound of bells. All gilded and blue like impossible skies Across which improbable cherubim fly Three doorways, three catches, three windows behind; Three moments to wonder at what I might find. Brass candlestick, lamplight, white roses, red wine, The sweet scent of apples, the reason for rhyme, Warm velvet, sharp satin, the bitterest silk Which cup holds the poison, which holds only milk? And here is the child who keeps white-rabbit time By the smallest of sundials on a daisy-chain line In his bright waistcoat (want-coat) whose pockets are lined With half-eaten minutes and the fabric of time. Sinistra and Dextra stand open and plain. I have glimpsed without harm what the lesser contain. Yet the third and the largest is cold to my grasp And I hear no sweet bells as I unlock the clasp. . . . I look to my left before opening the door, The poison is spilt, petals lie on the floor, The candle goes out, but in one glance I see That the body which drank and fell lifeless is me. I look to my right but the child has fled. The sun has gone in and the sky is blood red. The daisies lie closed amidst dead rotting cores Of minutes whose like I may soon have no more. . . . I chill at the image and tremble in shock. My hand falls away from the door's golden lock. I reach for the lesser and close them as well And hear as I do so the sweet sound of bells. Ever and always the sweet sound of bells. Words and music copyright Talis Kimberly Sanity Time Words and music by Catherine Faber Everybody needs a little sanity time. Everybody needs to get away. And if, as Heaven knows, all the bars are gonna close, Where's a girl to go to play? There's a place where I can go to work out rhythm and rhyme; God's house is always open, you see. That is to say it isn't hard, with a credit card, To wiggle the side door free! CHORUS (after every verse): In the church down on the corner of Seventh and Vine I can follow my thoughts to their end. Just me and my fiddle and a bottle of wine And the voice of my oldest friend. Everybody needs a little sanity time. The neighbors see the light and never blink. 'Cause when they listen in, and they hear the violin, "Burglar" is not what they think. Extra-late rehersals are a dozen a dime, And though they shake their heads and think it odd, Still when the curtain drops, they're not gonna call the cops, Not on the house of God! Everybody needs a little sanity time. So here I think and scribble, mix and match. I keep the music light, just a whisper on the night, No louder than the pencil scratch. And I like to think that Someone might suggest a new rhyme When He gets kinda carried away, Or listen for a while, with indulgence in His smile, To all the eager fiddle has to say. Because everybody needs a little sanity time. Words and music copyright (c) 1993 by Catherine Faber