Nhoj Morley



The full pseudo-symphony in one go. 




The Dickville Waltz
Life in Dickville is mostly gardening and making roof thatch. It is dull and tedious and no one knows that better the lad born with curly golden hair. It looked like a shaggy crown and everyone called him the Boy-King.
The Wankie Work Song
The Dickville lads start each day with a song to remind them of what must be done.
Trouble at the Mill
It is the Boy-King's turn to manage the mill. He is determined that it will be the greatest production day ever. The effort is a success but the mill is destroyed.
Bop Bop Shaboom
The working lads stuff the meeting hall to decide what to do next. The Boy-King offers up a cryptic plan that promises to bring prosperity and greatness to Dickville. No one understands it but they are sure that the way ahead should be beyond their understanding.


The Dickville Bland
Everyone is fired up, angry and shouting at each other as they continue to garden and make roof thatch. But quickly, the routine of Dickville lulls all back into a pastoral trance. The Boy-King is frustrated. A military parade is approaching.
Walk of the Dead
Returning from battle, the army is passing through the village. The Boy-King is dazzled by the procession of decorated uniforms and shiny weapons.
Ghosts of Honor  
At the end of the procession, carts of the dead and dying leave a trail of blood. The Boy-King sees ghosts floating over the carts. They laugh at him and mock his ambition. They say, "No one has died for you, little boy-king!" 
Farewell to Dickville
The Boy-King decides to leave Dickville and join the army. He is given a rickety old horse and is sent on way with a fond farewell.
The King's Dream  
As he rides, the slow rhythmic clopping puts the Boy-King to sleep. He has a dream where he is in charge and leading an army into battle.
Travel Prayer
At a crossroads, the dreaming Boy-King is awaken by a group of travelers. They invite him to travel along with them until they reach the army camp. They share their ambitions and prayers along way. He listens intently and determines that he will answer them all. He knows he is the only one who can. The travelers leave the Boy-King at the entrance to the army's camp, except for a friar, who offers to help with his introduction.


Dancing on Fire
The Boy-King finds a rough crowd at the army camp and introduces himself with some carefully crafted song and dance assisted by the friar, who endorses his enlistment to a top rank. This is met with some derision and demands that this newbie assume latrine duty like every other dick. Not to be daunted, the BK starts his song again while the soldiers poke at him with torches and spears. He is warned again to take his place with no effect. The BK is dancing over the torches thrown under him. The soldiers are backing the BK into the camp's big bonfire. Due to an earlier twist in the plot, the BK is momentarily inflammable. There is a glorious whoosh of fire but the BK steps out unharmed. All the flames took was the Shirley Temple-like golden curls of his hair leaving a clean crew-cut of bright crimson. Amazed by the sight, the soldiers fall in step around him as the BK teaches them how to march on fire to a new song with his themes.
The Creeping Dicks
As night falls, the Boy-King and the soldiers enjoy their revelry until dropping in exhaustion. No one is on watch and no one notices the sound of an approaching attack. A rival regiment of lads from Dickburg is creeping up on the camp. They whisper about what makes for a good thrashing.
Breakfast of Champions
When morning comes, the camp wakes to a long line of enemy soldiers shouting "Come and get it!". They pound their shields with their swords. The King's Champion is sent to face them and the Boy-King is told to be his second. The Champion stands out in front and taunts the invaders shouting, "Do you want a piece of this?" The taunting gets louder and ruder but nothing happens. The Boy-King recalls the laughing ghosts. He pulls his sword and stabs the Champion in the back. Both sides are aghast. Using his sword, he begins to fling parts of the Champion at the rival line shouting, "Do you want a piece of this?" Faces wrinkle as the invaders are thoroughly grossed out and confused. Inspired by the Boy-King's tactical improvisation, the army starts to charge at the enemy hurling their own body parts at them. The invaders retreat in horror and disgust.


Manfare for the Common Clan
The Boy-King is ordered to lead the counter-attack. He is told to use the Triple-Blow to make sure each enemy soldier is truly dead. But first, he must lead a squad deep into the enemy camp to soften them before the big fight.
Tickle the Horses
The Boy-King and his men sneak through the shrubbery to the enemy corral to steal the horses but he has an inspiration for a different plan. 
Panic Attack
With both sides fleeing for their lives from the surrounding forest fires, the only path of escape is straight at each other where a fierce battle ensues.
The Single Thrust 
The Boy-King is successful in penetrating the enemy all the way to the Command Tent filled with trembling enemy generals. It is now safe for the King to come and personally deliver the death-blows that make the whole battle his personal Triumph. Once achieved, the Boy-King stabs him from behind. He steps out of the tent and declares himself King Boy-King.
The King's Dead
The vast numbers of dead are piled into a huge bonfire. The Boy-King stands next to it and warms his hands. It feels like love. He sees the ghosts but they are not laughing. The new King begins to laugh and sings of his affection for those who die for him.


This Bonus Track has a bonus Bonus Track.



The workers stuffed the meeting hall that housed the big table where things were worked out. There were not enough chairs for everyone so they set them all aside and stood in a ring around the table. The Grand Moderator hit the small gong and the room went silent. Silent but for the sound of the Boy-King tapping his fingers slowly on the table top.


"Let's raise our voices one by one

Then we can add up what must be done

A civil tongue will keep thing cool

And we can do without a fool"


All agreed to hear each other out. A bottle was duly spun and civil voices were raised one by one…


"Everyday we share our toils

Everyone should share the spoils

Even-Steven all as one

A consensus says what must be done"


"I work hard and beat the game

I should not be paid the same

I will never share the wealth

It's every lad for himself"


"Break it all and start again

I don't care if it's The End

Eat it all and leave a mess

The future is a source of stress"


"Planning is a task for Fate

A strategy will come too late

Resting by the garden gate

I'm sure that everything will be great"


The Boy-King was still tapping a rhythm on the table and he muttered something barely audible over the discussion.


"What was that?"


Voices stilled and ears leaned toward the Boy-King. He turned his palm flat and began smacking on the table.


"I said… bop bop... sha-boom."


The workers heads tilted in puzzlement.


"What's that? Is it a philosophy?

Or an economic strategy?

A formula that divides the sum?

Some way to know what must be done?"


The Boy-King kept smacking the table and stared out across the room as if staring was an answer. He smacked harder as if it could drown out the confusion that was slowly filling the meeting hall. Some lads began speaking out of turn.


"But what of… "


"I said… bop bop sha-boom!"


"Then how does… "


"Just listen… bop bop sha-boom!"


The talking stopped and ears were turned. Everyone tried to understand what it all meant. The Boy-King closed his fists and began pounding as hard as he could on the table.


"There is no need to understand.

All we need is what's at hand.

A hand that keeps the rhythm going…

a hand that works without any knowing."


A few workers were already tapping along on the big table. One by one, the other workers closed their fists and joined in the rhythm. The hall began to reverberate and the table legs squeaked under the strain.


"Will you step through fire with me?

The fire will show us what must be.

Are we the loudest in the room?

Say it with me… bop bop sha-boom!"


The pounding grew and synchronized until all of Dickville could hear the sound. No one could doubt the way ahead had been found.


"Bop bop sha-boom?"


"Bop bop sha-boom!"