1. Oh the worldcon it is over
The fans are at rest
They're flat on the floor
For the booze has gone west
Of the cons that I've been to
This was the best
And for giving good binges
The Mount Royal's passed the test.
2. I came down to London town
T'was late in August of '65
I staggered thru Oxford Street
I felt scarcely alive
Collapsed on the hotel escalator
So that into the fen I could dive
Determined to battle heroically
And for fannish recognition strive.
3. Oh me, I didn't have any room
It was freeloading for me this time
And anyway fen don't sleep at cons
But talk and drink, it ain't no crime
And if people think them nuts
Then it don't matter a dime
So I dove into crowds of fen
And for a time I felt fine -
4. I met Brian Aldiss
And Poul Anderson too
But the drinks that they bought me
They were all too few
They signed my con programme
God, was I in a stew
And for all that damn whisky
The bill is now due.
5. Oh the hall it was crowded
With the fans and the pros
It was Harrison's speech
So John Campbell arose
He talked and he stood there
Ignoring his foes
He talked and he stood there
Till the convention was closed.
6. Monsters, monsters everywhere
And all the fen did shrink
Monsters monsters everywhere
Nor any blood to drink
Then I saw Forry Ackerman
It was a sight to make you think
I stared at enough monster magazines
To tremble on insanity's brink.
7. There were many books to buy
And more paintings to see
Not quite like Leonardo
But more like Paul Klee
Some were quite good
Others like Kandinsky
But the pubs weren't yet open
Where we wanted to be.
8. Oh the pork pies were flyin’
From the stage to the door
Where is Harry Harrison?
We won't see him no more
The bar it was crowded
It's become fannish lore
That he drank twenty whiskies
'fore he sank to the floor.
9. Some fen were sercon
And others were not
Rampaging on the roof
There were a hell of a lot
For they drank and they drank
Till their brains were a knot
And though it was only Friday
Their minds were a blot.
10. Oh the staff they got angry
And threw some fen out
For some they did freeload
And the rules they did flout
And others they were noisy
Loud they did shout
Ruining television aerials
The staff fetched them a clout.
11. But the others they argued
All thru the night
About Heinlein and Ballard
And sf's dire plight
The Yanks they're in terror
They're losing the fight
We think Heinlein is Wrong
And Ballard is Right.
12. The con it was international
There were fen from the Mid-West
And more from Germany
Others from Japan no less
Me, I dig their accents
The Mid-West it was best
What they were talkin’ about
I couldn't even guess.
13. Oh t'was in the Times
And the Observer as well
And many more papers
Of the con they did tell
Of the nuts and the crackpots
Oh how they did yell
Giving the public a laugh
They can all go to hell.
14. "How high can you get without
Actually going into orbit?"
This John Brunner told us
He talked for quite a bit
He talked for so long
That we got up and git
I don't like his talkin'
I prefer what he's writ!
15. We talked on a cold park bench
All 'bout the Franco-Prussian War
And how Anne Boleyn sans head
Couldn't get very far
We made some strange noises
And stared up at the stars
People paid us no more attention
Than distantly passing cars.
16. Oh me an’ Mushling
We tried and we tried
As we walked down Charing Cross Road
To sing "With God on our Side"
If Bob Dylan had've heard us
He'd have laughed till he cried
But the passersby didn't hear us
Wouldn’t have till they died.
17. Back in the con hotel
We collapsed on the ground
The fancy dress parade was over
Or so we soon found
So we sat in the lounge with friends
Talkin' all the night round
'bout vampires an' werewolves
While the irate staff frowned.
18. We were thrown out of the hotel at five
And spent half an hour on a wall
I was so damn tired an' weary
I knew I was headed for a fall
Chris Lee floated past like a ghost
He was dark an' satanic and kinda tall
But we were so blind 'n’ exhausted
That we didn't know it was him at all.
19. Then we wandered the streets
It was so dark an' cold
'fore the new day was born
Down Oxford Street we'd strolled
At six-o'clock in the morn
And 'gainst granite walls we lolled
All bleary and utterly tired as tho
To the wicked night our souls we'd sold.
20. Somewhere down in Piccadilly
We caught a tube train
Back again we banged on a door
Crashes poundin' in my brain
We were let into the room
I lay down as if slain
And soon was unconscious
Sleep mercifully easy to attain.
21. Out of bed I staggered
It was now midday or later
Our heads was still swimmin’
But the room now seemed straighter
We rang for room service
For we wanted a waiter
But when he saw the state we were in
For us he refused to cater.
22. Oh but I wasn't blamin' him
For wantin' to hide
Crazily ragged people
All lyin’ by my side
All bleary and filthy
Heads on the slide
After a night on the streets
We looked like we'd died.
23. 'bout this time I'd forgotten
What I was doin' at all
But we all managed to get up
And to the lifts we did crawl
Eventually we all ended
In the convention hall
And once in a chair
Back into sleep we did fall.
24. Oh we saw the Aliens' films right thru’
And all the fans did cheer
They had all the pros in BREATHWORLD
And from the small screen they leered
Harrison versus Aldiss with pork pie
Plus Moorcock an' others all well beered
The hotel's screen's never been the same
Since all the pros on it appeared.
25. So I didn't go to the banquet
It cost twenty-one shillings
I didn't hear the speeches
My head it was still spinnin'
I didn't see the Hugo's
Nor the authors, who were winnin'
But I didn't need all this for
My weekend was still swingin'.
26. Fritz Lieber got the Hugo
I'm wonderin' why
It's a good book - sure –
We can wave DAVY good-bye
Oh Cordwainer Smith
He's surrealist and he's sly
But he and John Brunner
Didn't even get a pork pie.
27. So Dickson got the short fiction
And Schoenherr the art
Leiber the novel
And Heinlein's on the cart
Brunner got on the short list
Well, that's a start
But what the hell happened
To Arthur C. Clarke?
28. Oh Ghod, not ANALOG again?
Year after year it's the same
There's never been any difference
Ever since John Campbell came
YANDRO's the fanzine
Now Coulson's a bit lame
To run the second-rate 'zine
He no longer can claim.
29. It's impossible, so I thought
At a world sf convention
To have more politicians
But no, for there's an election
Rival US groups they're screamin’
For Fandom's protection
And over next year's world convention
There's too much damn dissension.
30. Then Ted White he stood there
Praising Philip K. Dick
He don't like Jim Ballard
A fight he did pick
But all this was so boring
Back into sleep I did slip
While they argued and argued
He's just too helluva thick.
31. All these lectures and panels
With Name after Name after Name
And last the ceremony of St Fantony
A new kind of fannish game
And fan after fan was elevated
To the Hall of Fannish Fame
And we learned of the great St Fantony
And of the lands from whence he came.
32. It was now late on Sunday
Not much longer to go
I was so bleary
The time seened to flow
I spilt some Dubonnet
I shouted "Oh no!"
The girl's dress it was ruined
And I started to blow.
33. Then I went to someone's bed
It was quite a strain
I collapsed unconscious
Relievin' my brain
Though dreamin' 'bout dresses
And a dirty great stain
When morning had come
For five hours I'd lain.
34. When I got on the train
It all seemed like a dream
My head it was so soggy
An’ all off the beam
Many a strange thing happened
I could write ream after ream
But now I'll release you
From the worldcon supreme.
- published CRABAPPLE #2, ed. Mary Reed, December 1965