All Washed Up

Any good singer will tell you, for sure,
You must warm up before you perform.
And, needless to mention, at SF conventions
All the filkers must also get warm.
But filkers, it's known, hate to sing all alone --
Where one begins singing, the rest congregate.
And filkers don't care about with whom or where,
Once they find the acoustics are great.

CHORUS:  Lather up, stay, sing in my shower.
                   Come on in, the water is fine.
                   Lather up, stay, sing in my shower,
                   But wash what is yours, not what's mine.

The average tub in the average inn
Can accommodate ten in a pinch.
And still, that depends -- if they're really good friends,
Fitting seven more in is a cinch.
The ceramic tile, to an audiophile,
Is second to none for reflection of sound.
Inhale the steam and singing's a dream --
Especially with friends all around!

(REPEAT CHORUS)

BREAK:      If you're like I, and tend to be shy,
                   Remember, those of our ilk
                   Think nothing's lewd, crude, or rude --
                   Except for hogging the filk.
                   Harmonize, slap your thighs,
                   Drum on you tummy, strum your spare tire.
                   You can cope -- drop the soap --
                   Sing a few octaves higher!

              (In Falsetto, to the tune of the chorus)

                    La la la, la, la la la la la
                    La la la la la la la la
                    La la la, la, la la la la la
                    La la la la la la la la.

We had so much fun, when the warm-up was done
We decided to practice all day.
And now, like a jerk, I'll show up at the circle
Resembling an aging sharpei.
But my voice is purer than ever before,
It's ringing as sharp and as clear as a bell.
And my friends will say, when it's my turn to play,
That I sing just as good as I smell!

(REPEAT CHORUS)

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