This is the final version of The Girl Who Would Be Queen. If you want to see how this version came about and how not to write a filk, go here.
I've wanted to write a song about the first queen by right of arms (as yet unaccomplished). Dargason, a dance where the lead dancers work their way through the set, seemed ideally suited for such a song, but I had a hard time singing the music at speed. I realized later that I could, of course, sing the music slowly (which in this case is merely fast).
Given that the song is partially about sexual discrimination, I knew I had to work in some innuendoes. This posed a problem for me: I'm not sure I can do bawdy, and to fit sexual slang and double entendres into a song added a layer of difficulty. I managed two references...
The music is Dargason.
There was a pretty and charming lass, Who loved the stories of times long past, Of kings, and queens and brave knights and squires, And cauldrons boiling on open fires. Then she went to school far away And learned she could be the Queen some day If she was consort to the brave knight Who won his bouts in crown tourney fight. They said she first of all had to find, A strapping youth of the martial kind, A swordsman quick who slipped in and out, Surprised his foes and won ev'ry bout. She said “On no man will I rely, To make me queen and I'll tell you why. I'll pick up armor that's free of rust, Then enter crown with a swing and thrust.” She found a master of sword and shield, Whose aching back forced him off the field. He taught her all the things he had learned Then sent her off for a crown to earn. A boastful braggart was her first foe, Who leered and offered her blow for blow, She said “Oh, yes!” and with one flat snap, She knocked the cad out cold on his back. Her next opponent, more circumspect, His head and body did well protect. But leaned too far and let his guard down, And thus she went on to the next round. And so she fought in the lists that day And vanquished every one sent her way Her master's teachings were good and true 'gainst those with polearm, one sword, or two. Her final foe was a famous Duke Whose battle record was not a fluke. When they heard “Lay on!” they sallied forth, They clashed and clattered and showed their worth. And when they both were knocked to their knees, The Duke turned to her and looked quite pleased, He said “Your teacher was my first squire, Granddaughter lay on and show your fire!” Was she brought down or did she prevail? It makes no difference for this, our tale. The legend's greater than history, If it's not yet true it soon will be. So next you a young girl espy, Look on her well, and I'll tell you why. With tales of ladies whose armor gleam, She can be anything she might dream.