@TheStupendium

11 months ago

You can also sample the delicious world of Fallen London for free in the original text based browser game. Here's a welcome gift for you from Failbetter: fallenlondon.com/a/HelloStupendiousFriend LYRICS: INTRO: READ ALL ABOUT IT! Biscuit rations to increase by decree of the Masters! Missing baby found in spider’s web! Well hello there, friend! That shiny badge tells me you're here with the Ministry of Accounting and Recounting? Taking the census? Well you've picked a spot alright! There's no shortage of colourful characters here in the Neath and they all pass through here at the Singing Mandrake. Let old Harry Teller show you about. There’s a fellow up top by name of Robert Rackett. But these days everyone calls him Honest Bob. He can talk for England. I should say you pay him a visit... VERSE 1: HONEST BOB Nice to meet you, guvna’, what you want to know? Trying to keep a track of numbers now we’re dumped here down below? Fine, come take a look you’ll see – I’m an open book to read Something took the city then this city really took to me I’m not a crook or thief – I just do what I got to do Bloke’s still got to eat - Beef is more than a bob or two In a ditch and out the picture, London’s withering in walls which are Far too steep a pitch to climb but steep just makes the tealeaf richer See it did you? Oh, it takes me back. Day like any other then became the Day of Wrath As the monuments were toppled and the cobbles writhed and jostled And the skies above were gobbled by a raging plague of bats Stuck down in the Neath Drowning in disease Air sticks to your teeth It’s thick and viscous with the whispers in the breeze Tried to earn an honest bob But a bob is just a Robert And a Robert’s just a robber to a tee Wasn’t much, but used to run a comfy shop One half fell down the hole, the till’s still sitting up the top Now the Masters are in charge, it’s rather dark the things they’ve barred But every market turns to black as soon as all the lights are off Portobello sort of fellow shifting stock down Shaftsbury Avenue Most coppers came a cropper so they stopped the ‘let’s be having you’ Random that they’ve banned them but I have accrued a map or two And since they took the signs the maps ain’t half collecting value Counting off the days to die, it’s a solitary life Can’t help thinking maybe I should cop myself a wife An Eliza, Nellie, Nancy, here to hold me tight at night A lady’s tastes is fancy but still coal is twice the price Oh wouldn’t it be lovely to find a counterpart? ‘Cause I’d do anything to put love’s fire in the hearth I can cook and I can clean but Neath be damned a man can dream Sell my soul but I won’t ever fence my heart CHORUS 1: Nothing left but crumbs down here in London Do what must be done to make ends meet Run in with the blunt end of a truncheon Closest thing I’ve had to love in weeks Doesn’t mean a thing whose heights were wuthering Dumped down in the guttering, nouveau-riche Who you was before London went tumbling Doesn’t matter squat to who you’ll be NARRATION 2: Now this here is one Miss Cassi Haversham... Life of the party and pulls a darned sight more than pints. Anybody who didn’t lose everything lost something during the fall. But I should say they might have found a good deal more than they left behind... VERSE 2: CASSIE HAVERSHAM Way up on the surface, chap by name of Clyde Clerking for a firm of vermin purely to provide For a wife who never liked him, every day was made to hide The other person, soft but certain, that resided deep inside Some may cast an eye but darling why should I? Be the prim and proper office boy for every passer-by? I give us a year, maybe two, if we’re lucky then a few But the former me embraced the chance to die Clyde can take a backseat, Cassi’s turn to drive Who can say on any day who gets the reins? Enjoy the ride! Now when it comes to who I am I wear the trousers (or I don’t) Oh, darlin’ won’t you see that London’s at its best de-gentrified? I gave love a go, nothing short of woe What’s the sense repeating empty feelings stuck below? The high and mighty in the sky might find me Wildly improprietous but in a hole well how are they gonna’ know? Done with companionship, hassle it brings Don’t need the baggage that’s strapped to a ring I’ll take the packages, lay off the strings ‘Cause when they aren’t attached it’s my favourite thing There are devils in the streets What’s an extra in the sheets? Either way you’ll be beneath, so take a fling There’s a sorry looking pantry and the kitchen’s on the brink And I’m worried that they’ll catch the taste of river in the drinks Not a sausage from Her Maj’, it’s like the riddle of the Sphynx Why she’s holed up in her palace as her kingdom ever sinks? Hard to pay the rent at all when plagued by the nonsensical Daily an acquaintance twixt strange and the unmentionables Who can blame a dame in situations unconventional? Basement full of tentacles but waiting on a gent to call Or lady friend or several to get me through the nights To place me on a pedestal and set to seeing me right It pays to be quite flexible and truly, who am I? To cater to convention and eschew these new delights? If you came for documenting, tick whatever box you like You’ve got Pages full of questions but I left my lot behind They’re praying for ascension but this bird ain’t keen to flight It’s a shame it took descent into the depths to see the light CHORUS 2: Nothing much for fun down here in London Trot along the Thames, admire the views Stumble in and pass our evenings drunken Till the day the pubs run out of booze Sorry that we’re out of grouse for Luncheon Suckle on your husk of crusted bread Hunger does a number down in London Watch you’ll get a darker taste instead Alright, alright, settle down you horrible lot! Settle down! Incorrigible the lot of ya! (Continued in replies!)

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