Songs and Stories of Renunzio Buonofortuna (21+)

For 18+ stories, poems and other creative art.
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Ogregrim
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Songs and Stories of Renunzio Buonofortuna (21+)

Post by Ogregrim »

Night has fallen, day has fled,
Ad through the wooded paths we're led,
To dance our dance, and bake our bread,
From the pumpkin and the thistle.
So beat the drum and play the pipe,
With berrysweet kisses soft and ripe,
And laughing embraces of every type,
And whirl in joy with the whistle.

Our names are known, but known to few,
Cowslip, Foxglove, and Curelycue,
And we've ever so ever so much to do,
Ere the dawn shall take us.
The milking surely must be tended,
And washtubs all must be upended,
And locks well tangled for those who've offended,
And we've mishchief yet more to make us.

Babies yet await good poking,
And dousing of fires that have wanted stoking,
And pipeweed stolen for our smoking,
All before night is through.
So gather up your tools of trade,
Feather of Owl, and pixie spade,
And dance and sing here in our glade,
Then off and do all you can do!
Last edited by Ogregrim on Fri Jun 08, 2007 4:51 am, edited 1 time in total.
It has been my experience that, given the opportunity, people will in the end do what they truly desired to do in the beginning. Save time, let them, then they have only themselves to blame or you to thank.
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The Girl in the Air

Post by Ogregrim »

When she's dancing, as light as air,
With primroses in her hair,
All laid around
Like a soft velvet crown
In the mist that drifts all round her face,
I wonder what it is she sees,
As she swings so high on her trapeeze.
Could it be, could it be,
That she ever sees me,
So far below in this dark place?

And the boys all know her name,
And the posters are posted to broadcast her fame,
She's a gem and a star,
And I guess, there you are:
She's the one that the crowds come to see.
They toss red roses at her feet,
While the band waltzes on in a three-four beat,
And wherever she looks,
Midst the knights and the rooks,
It's still certain she'll never see me.

Come and see, oh yes, come and see,
The girl dancing on the trapeeze,
Oh, Like a swan, like a dove,
But don't dare fall in love,
For she's flying so high and so free
That should she look down,
At us here on the ground,
There'd be nothing worth seeing at all,
For her heart is her own,
And it's very well known,
So it's lonely you'll be if you fall.
It has been my experience that, given the opportunity, people will in the end do what they truly desired to do in the beginning. Save time, let them, then they have only themselves to blame or you to thank.
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Gratitude

Post by Ogregrim »

Then there was the time the Gaffer went fishing, a fine fisherman my Gaffer was, he could get to talking to the fish, pointing out the futility of their armless, legless lives, and their obvious drinking problems, and they would just suicide on the line, just end the meaninglessness of it all...

So the Gaffer was fishing, while Old Bob, the Chicken Wrangler sat by, when the Gaffer hooked a mighty fish... something big and powerfull, and with an ironic tug, the fish had the Gaffer in the water, rather than the Gaffer having the fish on the shore. The joy of turnabout. Anyway, in goes the Gaffer with a might splash, spluttering in the water, and trying to retrieve his pole.

Well, Old Bob sees this, and in a nonce, he is up and pulls the Gaffer out of the drink, and sets him on land again. "Good thing I was here," he says.

The Gaffer thanks him for his help, and goes on about his fishing, a little saddened to have let the monstrous fish escape him.

For weeks afterwards, anytime the two were together among others, Old Bob would tell the folks the story of how he saved Prospero's life, and what a good thing it was that he had been there that day. With each telling the fish would get smaller and the Gaffer would be closer to death.

Finally, before the story advanced so far that Old Bob had called upon his god in holy devotion, to breathe life back into his lifeless body, the Gaffer took Old Bob to the fishing spot.

When they arrived, the Gaffer, set his pole down gently, and leaped into the water where he had fallen in. He then stood up, with his head above the water.

"Now," Said the Gaffer, "I am just as wet as I should have been had you not pulled me out that day, let us call the debt settled."

Funny thing... the Gaffer always told this story when Old Bob would come by...
Last edited by Ogregrim on Wed May 23, 2007 1:52 am, edited 2 times in total.
It has been my experience that, given the opportunity, people will in the end do what they truly desired to do in the beginning. Save time, let them, then they have only themselves to blame or you to thank.
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Blame

Post by Ogregrim »

So, things being as they are lately, I have been reminded of a story about my Gaffer. Well, actually I have been reminded of a lot of stories about my Gaffer, but that is the way it goes. Prospero Buonofortuna was the sort of fellow that inspired stories. Or maybe told a lot of lies to a little hin grandson who was perfectly ready to believe them all... Either way... lately, I have been reminded.

There was the time the Gaffer took the Gran out for an evening at the opera, and a fine meal and such. An opera is a circus with a lot of singing and costumes, but crummy acrobatics and a lot fewer animals... but the performers do have to sing while they act, so not a total loss, and sometimes there is some real talent displayed. Anyway this story is not about the opera, so there isn't any point in nattering on about it, now is there, so save your questions for another story, why don't you, and let's get on with this one, shall we?

Where was I?

Opera, oh yes. So the Gaffer and Gran have a simply lovely time, because apparently the dog in the opera took a shine to some lady's perfume and began a courtship routine that called for a really grand impromptu cantada, till they could pry him off.... he was a big dog, and a real goer, as they say. I am not certain that the Gran didn't have something to do with it... she always found that sort of thing amusing, did my Gran, but all the same, lovely evening, fine meal, humiliated operatic competition, all was ducks and orange sauce as they say, till they get back.

Seems that the Gaffer had forgot to lock the doors on the vardo. And the caravan had set up camp in a shadier side of town... little surprise, the opera seemed to have been in some way responsible for this reception, but again.. another story, another time... this time, they get back, and the vardo has been ransacked, pilfered and otherwise robbed of the majority of their unhidden valuables and the like. So the Gran gets to the door, and finds no sign of forced entry, in fact, as she looks about, she sees that the keys had been left behind, so the door had not even been locked.

"Prospero, I can't beleive you!" she called out to him in a voice more suited to the operatic performance of earlier that evening, "You went and left the door unlocked. Anyone could have walked in and taken what they wanted, and it seems that someone has done just that!"

Well some of the performers hear the row, and they come out, have a look-see, and begin on the poor gaffer, too.

"For crying upside down, Prospero... you didn't even have the windows shut all the way, what were you thinking?"

"And see here, those locks you had wouldn't even stop the honest people, surely you could afford better?"

"You were just asking for this, Prospero, Don't you know any better? And you a hin, too, shamefull, sir, just shamefull."

Well the Gaffer stops under this barrage of criticism and scoldings, looking at the judgemental crowd of his friends and asks, in a humble voice, "You mean this is all my own fault? I am the one to blame here?"

"Of course it is your fault, " The others scolded, "You took no precautions at all, so wrapped up in your outing you were careless, who else could you blame?"

"Well, "Answered the Gaffer, "I was rather thinking of blaming the THEIVES."
It has been my experience that, given the opportunity, people will in the end do what they truly desired to do in the beginning. Save time, let them, then they have only themselves to blame or you to thank.
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Lyin Song

Post by Ogregrim »

And now,
The time has come,
For me,
To be more broody,
I've stalked,
And walked and strummed,
Just like they said,
I did my duty.
I've scowled,
And drunk and scowled,
Till all around,
Were forced to wonder,
What curse,
Or deep remorse,
Or other woe-
full spell I'm under.

I've snarled
And been so grim,
You'd think that I,
Had eaten feces,
So many times,
And different ways,
All on my own,
Of different speciese.
I've sulked,
And sat alone,
With invitations,
Open ended,
And when,
Someone has asked,
What haunts me so,
I've been offeneded.

And threats,
I've made a few,
But then again,
More than I can number,
I've fallen down,
And embraced shame,
And bored you all,
Into a slumber.
I've stoold tall,
And stood alone,
All because
I am too offensive,
And just when
You think that I
Can get no worse,
I place blame on you
And get defensive.

And with my sword,
And my black mail,
I am the darkest one that goes,
I can't resist,
I shake my fist,
And at joy,
I just get pissed,
I sulk and sneer,
And sometimes leer,
At any breast
That gets too near.
And if you think,
You found my pain,
You'll never know,
I won't explain.

Yes I've been coarse,
With no remorse,
And chose at first,
To resort to force,
I've left the ill,
To pay the bill,
And yet I still
Deny I'm cryin',
You all know me,
It's plain to see,
My hypocracy,
Bears no denyin',
I have my name,
And know no shame,
My claim to fame...
Is that I'm Lyin.

(sung to a melody not far removed from "My Way")
It has been my experience that, given the opportunity, people will in the end do what they truly desired to do in the beginning. Save time, let them, then they have only themselves to blame or you to thank.
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NickD
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Post by NickD »

I wonder if that song is going to make him Cross? *badoom-tish!* :laff:
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Post by Mick »

Very nice, Ogre. :D
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Ogregrim
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Song Sung On a Vampire's Doorstep

Post by Ogregrim »

Deep and dark, and down below,
That is where the dead things go,
Far far down, no place to run,
Never more to see the sun.
They come for you, when you're in your bed,
With fingers clutching cold and dead,
To drag you down in their pitch black hole,
They drink your blood and dine on your soul.
No more sun, and no more light,
Welcome to eternal night,
Ever hungry even when fed,
This is the lot of the damned undead.
So hang the garlic on the door,
Pour holy water on the floor,
Pray tonight they stay away,
Hide and hope for break of day.
It has been my experience that, given the opportunity, people will in the end do what they truly desired to do in the beginning. Save time, let them, then they have only themselves to blame or you to thank.
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Post by Mizbiz »

I love it. :twisted:
I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn't arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I'm going to be happy in it.~~Groucho Marx
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Post by Mikayla »

I like this latest one a lot.
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Post by psycho_leo »

Very nice. :D
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Post by Aitana »

Really good! Need to sing that to all the towns people hehe
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nice

Post by Inwintersshadow »

That one needs to be a bit of DD lore
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Charisma 22 Wisdom 5 And the Cloying Smell of Cheap Perfume

Post by Ogregrim »

Four am. It had to be four am. Not possible for it to have been earlier, he had pried himself from the charms of the ladies of Milava's flower not long ago. Despite popular fancies otherwise, he didn't do this sort of thing as a rule... Especially considering his close friendship with the girls in question. It didn't seem right. Most of the time.

But things had been different. It seemed that his interpretation of people and events around him must have been entirely wrong. Or at least, wrong in many ways.

Most of those whom he had thought his friends were gone, or estranged. It was painfull. A dull, black ache in the center of his heart that tugged at him. It didn't make sense to him. They changed so quickly. Or maybe they never changed at all, they were exactly who they had always been, and he had simply misunderstood. That was more like it. He never did fully understand the people with roots. Tall folk or otherwise, they lived in a world that he suspected he had not even begun to understand.

Bedamn and botheration, no point in dwelling on that. He was with people who made sense to him now. Where he belonged. He had been foolish to think that he would be wholly embraced by these gorgios. Sure, they meant well, and they may have even thought they were glad he had come. It was always that way. The first week of the Circus, the gorgios couldn't get enough. But then, they began to get cross, and bitter. They would start to resent the folk that they had welcomed as a bright spot in their dreary lives. Pockets got picked, and the circus got blamed. Fights might break out. Harsh words might be spoken. A few kind souls would beg them to stay, or beg them to take them along... but it always happened. You wear out your welcome.

He recalled his gaffer's advice. The nimble old hin with the weathered face, and laughing eyes looking deep into his own and seeing something there, "Nunzio, don't be ashamed of being what you are, just do your best to be the best you you can be. Sometimes you will think the gorgios see you. Sometimes you will be sure they have real eyes. But you are what you are, and that is why we are here. This is our place. These are our people.
"The gorgios want you to be something. They want you to be what they imagine you should be. But it will be few who see who you really are. Don't let it hurt you. They can't help it. They didn't mean to be blind. Give them what they want, but don't stay still too long. When the new wears off, you won't be exciting, and different. You won't be exotic. You'll just be someone underfoot who, for a little while, made them feel like part of something magical. And they will blame you when that feeling stops. They will feel betrayed. An audience doesn't care about your feelings, they are only interested in how you make them feel. That is why they pay you. Don't forget that. Give them what they want, and move on before the illusion is broken."

Staggering down the path to the garrison gates, he wondered why the old bastard had to be so right all the time. He had thought he was different, that these people were different. He had thought he belonged. But it had grown cold. There were some, some with eyes, but he wondered how long they would still see him. He wondered how long before he lost it all again.

Stupid thoughts. No point to that. No reason to be glum, mate, things are what they are and no point in crying over them, now is there? Take it as it comes, drink the wine while it is flowing, and worry about the headache only when the wine is all gone. The Teddy thoughts broke in.
After all, we've always got each other. The voice of the bear mask had been silent for some time. It was good to hear it again.

The gates are locked. Can't get in. The Freedom Riders looked at him wiht baffled eyes. Their noses seemed to flare at the heavy scent of perfume that clung to him. Were their eyes watering? He couldn't tell.

No point in giving in now. He had come to far on this errand. It had to be done. And there was no one else who could do it properly. Be the best you you can be, his gaffer was saying. Yes. He could do that.

Throwing his shoulders back, he lifted his chin, and began to sing at the top of his lungs.

There's many fine places that I have found myself undressed in,
And so many arms that I thought myself blessed in,
But there is a thought that I'm all of a mind to be testin',
For the place that I think that I surley will feel the best in,
Belongs to our own lovely , luscious Captain, My Mestin!

His ears rang.
That had been really loud.
The Freedom Riders stared at him in baffled awe and confusion.
What had he done?

The fog that had been settled so thickly on his judgement lifted in a flash of radiance. Or perhaps it was the people shouting out their windows for him to shut up and go to bed. And a few other more graphic anatomically improbable suggestions. At least one made him blink in sudden clarity.

He looked at the Freedom Riders, and threw his chest out a little. The gaffer's voice in his head saying, "If you have to step in donkey dung, might as well make it both feet."

If she asks, tell her it was Renunzio. Renunzio.

He walked away, toward the river and the comforting mindlessness of fishing. Maybe she slept through that.

Maybe. She didn't hear it at all.

Her face came into his mind clearly now, the features so well formed, and the same laughing eyes his gaffer had. There was something about his Gran to her, too, though he couldn't place it. Maybe they were the same height. Hard to say.

Oh, hells. She had to hear it. He recalled her tracking Mossi down and dragging her out from under Laurelin's bed.

Dammit.

What have I done?

She's bound to find me.

Bound to.

He cast his eyes over his shoulder, and ran.
It has been my experience that, given the opportunity, people will in the end do what they truly desired to do in the beginning. Save time, let them, then they have only themselves to blame or you to thank.
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Mizbiz
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Post by Mizbiz »

:eek:
I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn't arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I'm going to be happy in it.~~Groucho Marx
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