Odo's Blues
Gary Hanak (with help from Steve Macdonald and some
  Archon 22 people on verse 1 and the chorus)
October 1998

This song originated at a 'write a filk song' panel at Archon 22.
Steve Macdonald suggested, as a topic, that
 "OK, that chair gets up and—uh—walks around."

OK, we were desperate.

Then, we ran through the creative procedures and came up with a
(kind of a) blues song.

Later, I got to thinking about this song, and had two thoughts:
a) The only popular character I could think of who could
  be in this position would be Odo of DS9, and
b) Since this was 'write a filk song' panel idea, it seemed
  appropriate to change the chorus a little, to encourage more verses.

Woke up early this afternoon, and the view was not the best
Something large and hairy had plopped on me just to rest
Tried to launch a protest and it came out as a fart
The folks looked at the guy on me, ironically, named Art

I tried again, then Art got up, and I moved back a bit
Which felt O.K. to me, but then Art tried once more to sit
The crash was just phenomenal—and I felt pretty smart
And I took the opportunity to sit my arse on Art

It's hard to be a chair
It's hard to get any air at all down there
And if you think that things could not get worse
Then I suggest that you sit down and you write the next verse

They put me on a steak out—on the job sheet spelled 'a-k-e',
But some wise-ass punster assigned these jobs and, of course, he thought of me
So now I'm sittin' on a plate, with mushrooms on my side
The guy I'm watchin' watchin' me with hunger in his eyes

As a porterhouse there simply isn't much that you can do
So as he picked up his knife and fork, I let loose a subtle 'moo…'
He leaped up, knocked a waiter down, and then fell on his face
And I took the opportunity to sit down in his place

It's hard to be a steak
It could even drive a priest to mas—ticate
And if you think that things could not get worse
Then I suggest that you sit down and you write the next verse

I pulled duty at a building site, disguised as a commode
And suddenly some guy walks in, prepared to drop a load
Now, I'd made an "OUT OF ORDER" on my outside plain as day
So as he turns to sit I quickly slip the other way

I didn't want to do it, that's how my career, it came undone
But hey—he either lays there bare-butt or I get feces on my tongue
It may have been an accident, or he may just have been obtuse
But with my cover blown (and his too!), I just quietly vamoosed

It's hard to the the john
You only catch the tail-end of everything that's goin' on
And if you think that things could not get worse
Then I suggest that you sit down and you write the next verse

"…{yawn}…yeah, it's getting late…
 …about time I hit the bucket…
 …g'night, all. See you in the mornin'…"