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The Song of Tony Archer
by Mr Snowy
 Longfellow's The Song of Hiawatha is ripe for parody, but few are as good as this one, from the Fantasy Archers topic on .
Part One: The Prologue
Should you ask me, whence these stories?
Whence these legends and traditions,
With the odours of the pigsties
With the damp of Meadow Rise flats
With the smoke of blazing stables
With the gushing of the peasants
With their frequent repetitions
With their many repetitions
With their tiresome repetitions.
I should answer, I should tell you,
"From the land of great god, Aga
From the land of maypole dancing
On the village green at Barwick
From the land of old John Briar
From the cornfields and the pastures
Of the Midland shire of Borset,
Far-off land of mustard yellow".
Every day these tales are told there
Country folk still hold them sacred
Though Dick Barton's long-forgotten
Country folk still harken to them
Every day these tales are told there
At the time of 2 past 7
(But, if you are not about then,
Catch the omnibus edition)
If you love a nation's legends,
Love the ballads of the people,
Love the ancient storytellers,
Brunomilna, Mistakeri,
If you have the time to ponder
Mustardlander, tarry longer
Stay and read this poor description
Read this Song of Tony Archer!
Part Two: Tony Archer's Memories
Neath the slopes of Heydon Berrow
By the banks of great Am river
In the see of Bishop Cyril
In the Midland shire of Borset
Stands the farm of Tony Archer
Only son of Jack and Peggy
Offspring of a mighty family
Preacher for the way organic
Trusty yeoman, Tony Archer,
Sees the signs of age on-setting
Knows his back is growing weaker
For he has pulled many carrots
Knows his lungs are not so strong now
Fears the curse of Pullen's bladder
Gently rubs his aching shoulder
(Subtly trailed for many weeks now)
Tony Archer, long turned fifty,
Knows his prime is well behind him
Trusty yeoman, Tony Archer.
Dwelling more upon the past now
Often lets his mem'ry wander
Dreams of days now long-departed
Tony Archer, fondly thinking
Of his childhood and its bounties,
Questioning his life's achievements
Asking how things came to this pass
Part Three: Tony Archer's Heritage
Since the days that are forgotten,
From the unremembered ages,
Stood the Archers first and foremost
Of the many Ambridge fam'lies
Yes they came before the Forrests,
(Mighty singers were the Forrests)
Yes they came before the Grundys,
(Mighty cunning were the Grundys)
Gabriels deferred unto them
Likewise Horrobins and Larkins
Yes the Archers, lords of Brookfield,
From the unremembered ages
Ruled the land by great Am river
Always held the reins of power
Archer folk were the churchwardens,
Chairmen of the parish council
All this power they took unto them
Unconvenient laws they flouted
Badgers shot when fancy took them
Murdered faithful Jethro Larkin
Patronised the humble vicar
Called in legend Tee-vee-oh-ay*
Archer women wed for money
They ensnared each rich incomer
Many of whom popped their clogs quick
Thus enhancing Archer coffers
Archer men, they wed strong women
Matriarchs so rich in wisdom,
Holding court around the Aga
Wielders of the casserole dish
(All except for poor Ruth Archer,
Patroness of fast-food outlets)
Part Four: The Coming of Tony Archer
At the dawning of the Fifties
To this world came Tony Archer
Only son of Jack the Feckless,
Elder son of Daniel Archer,
Eldest son of John and Phoebe,
"Daughter of the moon" means Phoebe
I would take this lineage further
Risking boring repetitions -
You were warned of repetitions
In the first verse of the Prologue -
But it's not on Ambridge web site
Or in Addicts' publications
Favoured thus was Tony Archer
Destined he for wealth and power
But to help him crafty Peggy
Named him Tony William Daniel
So he would receive the blessing
Of his grandsire, old Dan Archer,
So through all his childhood, Tony
Thought that life had smiled upon him
Thought his days were filled with sunshine
Blessed son of Archer fam'ly
As a young man, Tony Archer,
Darling of the YFC set,
Drove his shining MG motor
Round the lanes like Jensen Button
Smote the cricket ball like Flintoff
Bent the footie ball like Beckham
(Phrases like this - yes I know - use
Similes anachronistic)
Many maidens did he squire then
Many female hearts he broke then
Jack-the-lad was Tony Archer
In his shining MG motor
Sad to say for youthful Tony
Problems soon beset his path now
When his father, old Jack Archer,
Being too fond of the bottle,
Quarrelled with the Archer menfolk,
Scorned their modern farming methods,
Mocked their new-bought milking parlour
Scientific, herringbone-shaped.
Mighty Dan, he shook with fury
Spurned his first-born, Jack the Feckless
"Brookfield you shall not inherit"
Gave the land to grace-less Philip,
Artful player on the organ,
Though he was the younger brother
When at last the dust had settled
Dispossessed was Tony Archer!!
(*The Vicar of Ambridge)
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