The filkers are attacking our beautiful Technese
Complaining 'cause we talk out software anywhere we please
They're drowning in their filkzines so they've got a lot of nerve
I think another music program's just what they deserve
Chorus: Calm down, it's only eighths and quarters
Calm down, it's only lines and staffs
Calm down and put it in assembly
It's not my fault I have a voice at which the world just laughs
They sit around for hours with guitars in every lap
The other filkers all applaud them even when it's crap
With rhymes and times and little chimes and dimes for jukebox play
I'd trade a hundred filkers for a mainframe any day
The filking faction's growing they're in consuites through the land
And some of the fanatic ones will write them on demand
I'd rather be a renegade and program all I can
And I don't care if they complain my programs never scan
I think I'll make a program to write some filks for me
And sing them in a pretty voice across my new T.V.
I'll set up in the corner of the filking in consuite