In honour of the National Folk Festival (Australia), which opens tonight (Thursday), I have written a little parody that I thought I would test out on you, dear Readers.  I have no idea whether I will be brave enough to recite it at any of the poetry workshops.  I never have before.  It depends on your feedback.   If you are really brave, you can try to sing along to the tune of the Sounds of Then, which was written and performed by Ganggajang (you’ll have to sing over the top of their words).  I won’t be singing come performance time.  I’ve provided a link to the original song below.  Aussies may find this fun, but others will probably be completely flummoxed.  Please note there is a certain amount of hyperbole used in this poem.

 Sounds of Zen (Ode to the National Folk Festival)

I think I hear the sounds of Zen,
The music playing,
The folkies queue, got their tick-ets,
Almost there, nearly through the gate.
Lost in thought, completely chilled.

It can’t be right, someone else’s tune,
It’s fo(l)-kie / paro-dy.
In a tent, how Ma-jes-tic.
Lost in thought, completely chilled.
Bring out the mandolins,
Bring out the fiddles too.

Out on the Village Green we’d sit,
And the kebab smoke we’d breathe.
We’d watch the circus cracks, in their undies,
And laugh and think, this is the Nash-a-nal.

Some felters felting, the coffee brews.
Lights they sparkle over-head.
At the Stockmans Camp, damper and stew,
Give it up fo…..r the sound crew.

Lost in thought, completely shot,
Brings forth the vin-da-loo.
Out on the Village Green we’d sit,
And the kebab smoke we’d breathe.
We’d watch the circus cracks, in their undies,
Laugh and think that this is the Nash-a-nal.

Instrumental

It can’t be right, someone else’s tune.
It’s fo(l)-kie / paro-dy.
In a tent, how Ma-jes-tic,
Lost in thought, completely chilled.
Bring forth the mandolins,
Bring forth the fiddles too.

Out on the Village Green we’d sit,
And the kebab smoke we’d breathe.
We’d watch the circus cracks, in their undies,
And laugh and think, this is the Nash-a-nal.

Out on the Village Green we’d sit,
And the kebab smoke we’d breathe.
We’d watch the circus cracks, in their undies,
And laugh and think, this is the Nash-a-nal.

This is the Nash-a-nal.
This is the Nash-a-nal.
This is the Nash-a-nal.
This is the Nash-a-nal.

I invite you rate my parody in the comments.
1 – really shit
2 – shit
3 – good shit
4 – shit hot.

 

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