Was looking at old mail messages, and I found this. Some history: back in the reign of Kurgan and Huraiwa, I was appointed Royal Fool, and Alaric of Bangor and others were some kind of mysterious middle-eastern guard who called themselves the Falaka. (I believe that’s a rude word in Arabic, but I once asked some swarthy lads at a service station if they knew what it meant, and they said they had no idea.) At some stage, I wrote the following, to the tune of The Macarena. I have no idea if it was ever performed.

Riding in the desert on moth-eaten camel
Nothing in our bellies but a mouldy falafel
Looking like a prize you could win in a raffle
Oh, we’re Falaka!

Gimme turkish bread, gimme lots of tabouli
Chop it with a knife since we ain’t got a Mouli
Look at Al-Aric, he’s so hungry he’s drooly
Oh, we’re Falaka!

Wanna fella killed, you can call on a squire!
Wanna hear a joke, then the Fool can inspire!
Wanna have a headache, we are all you require:
Oh, we’re Falaka!