"Okay, okay," says Helen, laughter just barely contained. "So what's the song?"
"Do 'Falling Down the Stairs Again!'" shouts one of the Wallenburgians.
Another interjects, "No no, 'So Long My Brother'! It's more fitting!"
"Why don't you save your ideas for your own turn," says the man on the stage. He turns his attention to Helen. "I was thinking 'Two Cups for the King'. You know how to change the words, right?"
She laughs out loud now, nodding excitedly. "Oh yes, that's a good one. Boys, give us a chorus for free so we can get our composure."
The players look to each other and begin to make their music. It's a bouncing, simple tune, one that might be more at home at the hearth of a farmhouse than on an international campus. The man and two women on the stage begin singing in no particular key, belting out the verse and trying not to laugh.
Just to see his army go.
We stood waiting on the River Grey,
Nervous boys and trembling gals.
Their horses and their mighty tanks
Produced such fearful row.
We stood our ground against the banks
And fast held our morale.
The entire group of Wallenburgians joins in for the chorus, a directed contempt and hatred thick in their voices.
A cup to our good King!
Two cups of blood for our good King to drown himself in.
A cup to our good King!
A cup to our good King!
Two cups of blood for our good King to drown himself in.
The group continues in the same manner as the three singers begin the second verse.
Just to see his army run.
We stood cheering on the River Grey,
Bloodied boys and shouting gals.
Their corpses and artillery
Were strewn out 'neath the sun.
We fought them back until they fell
And sent them straight to hell.
A cup to our good King!
A cup to our good King!
Two cups of blood for our good King to drown himself in.
A cup to our good King!
A cup to our good King!
Two cups of blood for our good King to drown himself in.