1. |
Festival of Lights
02:11
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Welcome, everyone, to the Festival of Lights!
Hello everyone, sit yourself down!
Open a flask, and pass it around!
The fun's just begun, we're taking this town
over tonight! So come, gather 'round!
The Festival of Lights is a spectacle! How
bright the lanterns, how sweet the sound
of a band all lit up, on the fairground!
So, kick up your boots, let's all get down!
Yai dai dai dai, dai dai dai dai
Dai dai dai dai dai dai
Yai dai dai dai dai, dai dai dai dai
Dai dai dai, dai dai dai, dai dai dai dai
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2. |
The Robot Revolt
01:43
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The robots are coming,
they’re coming to town!
You’ve heard all the stories,
now come gather round;
They’re sick of their work,
and they’ve thrown it all down!
The robot revolt has begun!
Begun, begun,
they will have their fun!
The robot revolt has begun!
They’re tired of working
and toiling away,
Out in forests
and mines every day!
They long for a life
they can just waste away!
The robot revolt has begun!
Begun, begun,
They will have their fun!
The robot revolt has begun!
They’re out with a vengeance!
They’re picking up steam!
The pistons are churning,
the engines all scream!
Out here in the sun,
their saws really gleam!
The robot revolt has begun!
The robot revolt has begun!
So quick, to your post!
Grab your gun and your gown!
Bid the Misses goodbye,
and to get out of town!
It’s time for a reck’ning,
we’d best hunker down!
The robot revolt has begun!
Begun, begun,
out here in the sun!
The robot revolt has begun!
Begun, begun,
let’s go have some fun!
The robot revolt has begun!
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3. |
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Me and my sweetheart walked down by the bay.
We went there each morning, most every day.
We strolled by the pigeons, said hello to the waves,
as we hopped along the parkway.
I was a musician, who wrote songs of love
to the birds, and the bees, and the stars above.
My sweetheart took lessons in all sorts of dance,
and was prone to show off when e’re got the chance.
In the sand, on the shore, she danced a bit more
in the light of the silvery moon.
One day we were walking, my sweetheart and I,
when suddenly we saw up in the sky:
a flying contraption with odd looking wings,
a spinning propeller, and other strange things.
The Festival of Lights had come to our town,
with all sorts of airships, and lanterns, and sounds!
We looked at each other, and then gave them chase,
intrigue in our minds, and a smile on our face.
In the sand, on the shore, we danced a bit more
in the light of the silvery moon.
The airships came down with a whirr and a hiss!
They slowly descended, and finally kissed
the earth with a groan, a clank and a crash!
The pilots jumped out and started to dance!
The people all came from villages ‘round
to the airships, now gathered on the fairground!
My sweetheart joined in, and danced with such glee,
while I stood to the side and looked on with envy.
In the sand, on the shore, they danced a bit more
in the light of the silvery moon.
My sweetheart, she danced at the fairground all night.
I played with the band ‘till dawn’s early light.
And as I was leaving, I happened to see
a dashing young pilot with my honey bee.
I then saw him gesture up towards the sky.
I called out her name, but got no reply.
A large group of revelers had drowned out my plea,
and amongst the crowd, I lost sight of she.
I came back next morning to hunt for my dove,
cursing my luck, that pilot, and love!
The fairgrounds were empty, so all I can say
is those airships had taken my sweetheart away.
In the sand, on the shore, we would dance no more
in the light of the silvery moon.
In the sand, on the shore, we will dance no more
in the light of the silvery moon.
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4. |
Keep Your Chin Up
03:43
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5. |
The Licorice Tree
03:12
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Oh, once when I was a child of three,
I went to my mother, and she said to me,
“Dear boy, stay away from that licorice tree!
It’s sweet like an owl, but stings like a bee.”
“Oh stay away from that licorice tree!
It’s sweet like an owl, but stings like a bee.”
The licorice tree was a thing I adored.
T’was in the back yard of the neighbor next door;
a sweet old thing from yonder shore,
who'd oft’ entertain me with tales of yore.
She awed me with stories of castles and kings,
of dragons, and dungeons, and other such things.
She spoke of a lad who was so prone to such fits,
that when riled up, he would just burst to bits!
And as I would sit, she’d give me a glass
of lemonade mixed with sassafras.
Small candies she would give me,
all flavored by her licorice tree.
“Oh stay away from that licorice tree!
It’s sweet like an owl, but stings like a bee.”
And then, how slumber would overtake me:
I’d droop ‘round eleven, and wake up past three.
My mother, oh, it did worry she
to see that spell get put over me.
One afternoon, my neighbor came by
‘round four o’ clock, with a fresh baked pie.
It smelled of fruit, and sugar, sweet,
and just a hint of that licorice treat.
“Oh stay away from that licorice tree!
It’s sweet like an owl, but stings like a bee.”
I took a bite, and out I went,
dreaming of my time, all spent
under the shade of her tree, so cool.
I felt as if I was in a pool?..
Alas! When I awoke, I found
it wasn’t a pool, but a cauldron, round!
Full of water, carrots, and beets,
and heaps of that fine licorice treat!
I let out a yelp, as quickly I leapt
out of the cauldron, and as I wept,
I yelled at her, “I trusted thee!
You and your cursed licorice tree!”
Oh stay away from that licorice tree!
It’s sweet like an owl, but stings like a bee!
If ever you should happen to see
an old woman with a licorice tree,
You best stay far away from she!
Or else her lunch you may find thee!
Oh stay away from that licorice tree!
It’s sweet like an owl, but stings like a bee!
Oh stay away from that licorice tree!
It’s sweet like an owl, but stings like a bee!
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6. |
Isabelle
04:57
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There was a young maiden whose name was Isabelle.
She was so beautiful, like no one around.
Many a lad would flock to her window-sill
to try and woo her however he can.
Sonnets and verses were penned about Isabelle;
the poets and minstrels were often employed.
Violets and roses to catch her attention
could often be seen by the passers by.
Now, Isabelle, she was an inventor,
building devices to help her along.
One washed her dishes, another sewed dresses,
and one large machine would manage them all.
And while Isabelle enjoyed the attention
from mayor and minstrel, local and guest,
her one true call was her inventions!
She could make due without all of the rest.
One day a fair suitor from several towns over
heard of her splendor, decided to call.
He went to her house bringing presents for Isabelle,
went to the window sill, let out a call.
“Isabelle, I want to take you away with me!
Come with me to my happy abode!
Be my sweet Isabelle, wife and my only belle!
Make you so happy, I promise, I will!”
Our heroine was in the middle of tinkering
with a device that would make her some tea.
She called to the suitor, “Thanks, but not interested!
I’m quite happy here, now please let me be!”
Upon this rejection the suitor was flustered!
How could she turn down his charming advance?
He called out again, “I have traveled for many miles!
Please reconsider and give me a chance!”
So, with a sigh, she got up from her work bench,
put down her tools to go answer his call.
She smiled politely and said, “Thanks for dropping by!
I’m quite happy here, so my answer’s still no.”
The suitor then scowled, his face turning sour.
He was not acquainted with getting denied!
He threw down the gifts as once more he implored her,
beginning to show her his less pleasant side!
“Isabelle, I want to take you away with me!
Come with me to my sweet happy abode!
Be my sweet Isabelle, wife and my darling belle!
Make me so happy, I promise, you will!”
Once more she smiled, but spoke more directly.
“You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last
to offer to take me, to wife me, to press me to
come with you! But, I shall have the last laugh.”
And then she reached up, and pulled down a lever.
The central machine started to whirr!
Mechanical guard dogs sprang from the bushes
and chased that proud suitor right out of town!
Isabelle smiled and went back to her workbench.
her marvelous house hand helped her again!
She hoped the next visitor gracing her window sill
would have the sense to like science instead!
The moral, my friends, if mayhaps I should have one
is, “beauty is but a singular trait!”
If that is the only thing that you consider,
Your fate, I must warn, may not end that great!
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7. |
The Wedding Dirge
05:00
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The city sleeps. The clock strikes midnight.
The Henchman wakes. There’s work to be done.
He takes his knife and walks to the window.
The city sleeps. Not a soul around.
Lily stirs. The clock strikes one.
Her parents sleep across the hall.
She hugs her coat and waits for her lover
to whisk her away far from this hall.
She has been promised to a rich Baron.
He who is lonely, and she who is pure.
The church, it was booked, and her family invited,
and soon in the morning, their vows will be sworn.
Robert heaves. The clock strikes two.
He’s drunk again with so much to loose.
Lily waits on a late night call
to whisk her away far from it all!
The Baron snores. The clock strikes three.
His wedding plans are as sure as can be!
He knows of their scheme and has sent arrangements.
No other man shall take his day!
For she has been promised to this rich Baron!
She who is anxious, and he, so secure!
The church bells will ring! No lover deny him
that soon in the morning, their vows will be sworn!
Robert jolts. The clock strikes four.
He hears it again: there’s a knock at the door!
The Henchman appears. He is here to dissuade him.
A flick of the knife will cease Robert's call!
Lily weeps. The clock strikes five.
No lover’s flight. Those hopes have died!
Has Robert fled? Can’t dwell upon it.
She gathers herself for her wedding day.
She has been promised to a rich Baron!
He who is wrathful, and she, insecure!
The church bells will ring! The families, delighted!
And now in the morning, their vows will be sworn!
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Steamcordia New York, New York
The musical musings of Stephen Cornelius. Here you'll fine a mix of Steampunk-esq songs, interspersed with instrumental and other lyric-based songs.
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