Some Fool To Make The Drive
Words and music by Cynthia McQuillin © 1984
TTTO Fuel to Feed the Drive by Cynthia McQuillin


  Am               G                          Am
A hundred parsnips out on a con room luncheon plate,
      C                 G                  F          G
There were no cheese or cold cuts for the caterer was late.
  Am             G                 F               Am
Unwanted veggie hand-me-downs were all that had survived,
                             G             F        G       Am
And the fans were weak with hunger, hoping munchies would arrive.

Someone went for pizza, but the pizza place was closed.
There were no AM-PM marts; our staff was indisposed.
No all-night junk-food restaurants were near enough to drive.
There was little hope, it seemed that night, that munchies would arrive.

Some filkers entertained us, hoping that would change our mood,
But it only made us hungrier; they sang of fannish food:
Of banquet fare and chili, then of things to feed a drive.
By then we all were more than sure no munchies would arrive.

What words could stir us from our gloom — a word of hope perhaps?
What mortal deed could save us all from blood sugar collapse?
The phone rang then; our pizza crew had made another drive
And found one open taco stand.  Soon munchies would arrive.

So, as we crunch down nachos and tacos soaked with grease,
We raise a cheer for fannish men whose endurance will not cease.
We face another crisis, but regardless we'll survive
As long as we have munchies or some fool to make the drive.