Posted on by Magnus Seter

WFRP: Cemetary Polka

In my mind, Altdorf is a mad place, a cacaphony of bizarre antics of depraved individuals with warped motivations set against the backdrop of a world insane. And on top of that people are stupid and greedy. And there is no one better to capture that than Tom Waits. An acquired taste, I guarantee you, but to me  nothing says WFRP in Altdorf in music more than the Cemetary Polka.

And now the lyrics, adapted to the Old World
Cemetary Polka, by Thomas Warten
Uncle Werner, uncle Werner, independent as a hog on ice
He’s a big shot down there at the slaughterhouse
Plays accordion for old Herr Weiss

Uncle Berthold, uncle Wilhelm
Made a fortune selling halfling pies
But they’re tightwads and they’re cheapskates
And they’ll never give a klank to us 

Auntie Mame has gone insane
She lives in the doorway of an old hostel
And the guests are singing opera
All she ever says is “Go to hell!”

Uncle Violet sailed as a pilot
Never gave the pretty girls a glance
Now he runs a tiny little book shop
They say he never keeps it in his pants

Uncle Schill will never leave a will
And the tumor is as big as an egg
He has a mistress, she is Kislevitan
And I heard she has a wooden leg

Uncle Willi can’t live without his pills
He is hard of hearing and he’s almost blind
And we must find out where the money is
Get it now before he loses his mind

Uncle Werner, uncle Werner, independent as a hog on ice
He’s a big shot down there at the slaughterhouse
He plays accordion for old Herr Weiss
/Magnus
Posted on by Magnus Seter

Don’t Pay the Ferryman

The people of Altdorf enjoy telling ghost stories, both as entertainment and as sincere warnings of the horrors of the unknown. The Niederhafen Pike is one such legend, and this is often accompanied by the fable known as Don’t pay the ferryman. The source of this ballad is unknown, but it is easy to imagine that it has some truth to it, given the amount of ferries that cross the Reik. There are bound to be incidents, even if they are more mundane than the legend makes out.

The popular and skilled lute player and folk singer Christoph Von Kleinestadt has followed up on his success at the taverns and bars in the docklands, and has written another catchy tune, inspired by the old legend of the sinister ferryman.

It was late at night on the Volkerweg
Speeding like a man on the run
A lifetime spent preparing for the journey 

He is closer now and the search is on
Reading from a map in the mind
Yes there’s the ragged bridge
And there’s the boat on the river 

And when the rain came down
He heard a wild dog howl
There were voices in the night – “Don’t do it!”
Voices out of sight – “Don’t do it!
Too many men have failed before
Whatever you do

Don’t pay the ferryman
Don’t even fix a price
Don’t pay the ferryman
Until he gets you to the other side 

In the rolling mist then he gets on board
Now there’ll be no turning back
Beware that hooded old man at the rudder 

And then the lightning flashed, and the thunder roared
And people calling out his name
And dancing bones that jabbered and a-moaned
On the water 

And then the ferryman said
“There is trouble ahead.
So you must pay me now” – “Don’t do it!”
“You must pay me now” – “Don’t do it!”
And still that voice came from beyond
Whatever you do 

Don’t pay the ferryman
Don’t even fix a price
Don’t pay the ferryman
Until he gets you to the other side
Don’t pay – the ferryman!

Adolphus Altdorfer
Wellentag, Sommerzeit 20, 2521 IC
Here’s the video of the song performed live! It’s kind of a silly song, but I love it. Too bad I couldn’t find the original video, with De Burgh dressed as a vampire!

/Magnus

Posted on by Magnus Seter

WFRP: Xinjiapor

On the docks of Altdorf, a visitor will hear many strange songs sung by the sailors scrubbing the decks of ships and boats. Listening to these whimsical tales takes you on a journey over the world, and hints of exotic and dangerous locales. No wonder the docks are filled with young boys and girls listening with fascination to verses painting a grim picture of a world they might hope to see themselves, if nowhere else than in their dreams.

One such song is called Xinjiapor, which might or might not be the name of a real harbour close to Cathay. There are many other things mentioned in this song that are mysterious, and I hope to delve deeper into many of the things mentioned here to decipher their meaning.

We sail tonight for Xinjiapor
We’re all as mad as hatters here
I’ve fallen for a tawny whore
Took off to the land of blood
Drank with all the Cathay men
Walked the sewers of L’Anguille
I danced along a colored wind
Dangled from a rope of sand
You must say goodbye to me

We sail tonight for Xinjiapor
Don’t fall asleep while you’re ashore
Cross your heart and hope to die
When you hear the children cry.
Let marrow bone and cleaver choose
While making feet for children’s shoes
Through the alley
Back from Hell
When you hear that steeple bell
You must say goodbye to me.

Wipe him down with kerosene
Till his arms are hard and mean,
From now on boy this iron boat’s your home
So heave away boys.

We sail tonight for Xinjiapor
Take your blankets from the floor
Wash your mouth out by the door
The whole town is made of iron ore
Every witness turns to steam
They all become Tilean dreams
Fill your pockets up with earth
Get yourself a guilder’s worth
Away boys, away, boys, heave away

The captain is a one-armed dwarf
He’s throwing dice along the wharf
In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is King
So take this ring

We sail tonight for Xinjiapor
We’re all as mad as hatters here
I’ve fallen for a tawny whore
Took off to the land of blood
Drank with all the Cathay men
Walked the sewers of L’Anguille
I danced along a colored wind
Dangled from a rope of sand
You must say goodbye to me


Adolphus Altdorfer
Konistag, Nachgeheim 17, 2524 IC

This song is originally called Singapore, and is sung by Tom Waits on his album Rain Dogs. Do get it, it’s wonderfully atmospherical. The music of Tom Waits is very WFRP in feel to me, sometimes silly, whimsical and dark as pitch.

I regret that I didn’t manage to find a WFRP equvivalent of “hell”, so I left that in there. Any suggestions are welcome! It should rhyme with “bell”.

/Magnus