SATURDAY NIGHT AT THE SHINDAR ENCAMPMENT
Dedicated to Balty and his boys
Saturday night at the Shindar encampment
Is like being nowhere at all.
They crawl in their bedrolls precisely at ten,
And the munchkins who live there are not seen again.
Just two drunken Romans who can't find their own tents
Sit by their fire in a daze (in a daze),
And huddle together to share a last bottle,
And wonder at strange Shindar ways.
You ask how I know of the Shindar encampment
Well, I spent a month there one day.
They've got entertainment to dazzle your eyes:
Go watch the boys bauble and hear their shrill cries.
But don't go there drinking,
You'll live to regret it,
They're so much more boring to see (boring to see).
So take my advice on the Shindar encampment
And learn to avoid it, like me!
You might think if you hear the song that I'm singing,
That I hate the Shindar, but no!
Your young, shining faces make life seem so new,
They remind of times when I felt that way too.
So despite the temptation
I won't make a judgement,
And call all you young kids naive (so naive!)
Just remember instead that next time you judge someone
Things might not be what you believe.
You may have noticed that I have never sun ght third verse, and I have almost decided
to ditch it, since it doesn't really seem to fit in with the humorous tone of the rest of the song.
But I don't like people who preach at me, or are self-righteous about their beliefs, and I'm sure
you guys don't either, so I haven't sung it at you. Thank God for small favors, eh?