I want to write a story, I want to write a tale
I want to see it published and get checks in the mail
I wanna be the hottest thing that you have ever seen
but all that I am doing, is staring at the screen!

I’ve got a case of writer’s block, as you can plainly see
I had it something awful now, since 2000-and-3!
I’ve got character and setting, but I haven’t got a shot
’cause all these things are useless if I haven’t got a plot

Nothing happens!
Nothing happens!
Nothing happens in my tale

Nothing happens!
Nothing happens!
My story is a fail

Perhaps I try a bit too hard, perhaps I should relax
perhaps I oughta just write down a tale based on the facts
Just give your guy a problem, the writing coaches say
then figure out how his quirks will help him save the day

But nothing happens!
Nothing happens!
Nothing happens in my tale

Nothing happens!
Nothing happens!
My story is a fail

It’s causing me some anguish, my lame attempts at art
you can’t ever finish, what you never start
But your muse will never flourish, when threatened by a gun
so I’m gonna write a filk about it, and then call it done

’cause nothing happens!
Nothing happens!
Nothing happens in my tale

Nothing happens!
Nothing happens!
My story is a fail!

-The Gneech

Have an introverted Christmas
with a small group of your friends
And then sigh with deep relief
when it finally ends

Have an introverted Christmas
but don’t make too much fuss
We won’t force you to put on smiles
there’s no-one here but us

Ho, ho, the mistletoe
Hung where you can see
and know how far to stay away
hangin’ out by the tree

Have an introverted Christmas
the phone is off the hook
Tell the folks I said hello
and then went back to my book.

-The Gneech

You’re overly sensitive, Mister Grinch
constructive criticism makes you mad
You take it all so personal
it’s really rather sad, Mister Grinch
You just keep looking at me like…
I’m being some kind of cad!

You’re the anti-Christ, Mister Grinch
you’re the harbinger of End Times
and they’re digging a new hell now
just to cover all your crimes, Mister Grinch
You’re a shambling blob of tentacles and eyes…
oozing in acidic slime!

-The Gneech

You’re obnoxious, Mister Grinch
You’re an unappealing pratt
and the worst thing I can say is
that you still think you’re all that, Mister Grinch
If there was any justice, a streamroller would come along and…
whallop you flat

You’re diabolic, Mister Grinch
you’ve made a Faustian pact
and I would point out all its loopholes
if I didn’t have such tact, Mister Grinch
I wouldn’t have you on my friends list even if…
all my social media got hacked

-The Gneech

Lemme tellee little story ’bout a man named Nahum [1]
he lived west o’ Arkham and never did any harm [2]
Then one day a hill exploded in his face
and Nahum had to cope with a colour outa space!

(An alien that is. Amorphous. Intangible.)

Well the first thing you know, ol’ Nahum’s lookin’ spare
his kinfolk said, “Nahum, move away from there!”
But Nahum and his folks couldn’t muster up the fight
and the trees and hills were glowin’ in the night

(From radiation, that is. Sickly crops, mutated animals.)

Well now it’s time to say goodbye to Nahum and his kin
not that there’s much left of ‘em except some dust and skin
They’re dammin’ up the river and floodin’ the whole place
so now yer drinkin’ water’s full o’ colour out of space!

(Y’all flee for your lives now, y’hear?)

-The Gneech

[1] Pronounced “naaum”
[2] Pronounced in a New England accent, “haam”

EDIT: Maxgoof recorded it! Click through to hear it.

The left bone’s connected to the right bone
The Fred bone’s connected to the Ethel bone
The football’s connected to the end zone
The lyrics are coming undone

Dem bones dem bones live underground
dem bones dem bones gonna go to town
dem bones dem bones never hear a sound
da dee da dum de da dum

No bone’s connected to the nose bone
my tongue is connected to the Toblerone
Greg Peck was in The Guns of Navarone
da dee da dum de da dum
da dee da dum de da dum
da dee da dum de da dum

-The Gneech