Nhoj Morley



The Dickville Waltz


The Wankie Work Song


Trouble at the Mill


Bop Bop Shaboom

 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!"



Despite the new enthusiasm to conquer inspired by the BK, all the villagers want to fight for is a peaceful mediocracy. The blissful boredom is interrupted when the King's army passes through the village returning from battle. The BK is transfixed.


The Dickville Bland


Walk of the Dead


Ghost of Honor


Farewell to Dickville



From the second movement and still in progress. The Boy-King leaves Dickville behind and rides off to join the army. The pace lulls him to sleep and he has a dream about leading a great army into war… as he imagines it would be like.



At a crossroads, the dreaming BK is awaken by a group of other travelers. 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 BK at the entrance to the army's camp.




The Boy-King finds a rough crowd at the army camp and introduces himself with some carefully crafted song and dance. 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 Boy-King and his squad are ordered to sneak into the enemy's camp and deal with the their horses. After an unfortunate discovery, they steal them instead and attack the camp.



The final battle scene from the Fourth Movement. BK leads his panic-numbed followers in a devastating charge.