Bondage Blog

I once spent a whole semester staring longingly at the back of the head of a girl who sat in front of me in a dull class. She had pretty hair and a black velvet hairpiece to hold it together, and the whole time the lyrics of that Irish tune would play in my head:

Her eyes they shone like the diamond
You’d think she was queen of the land
And her hair hung over her shoulder
Tied up in a black velvet band.

But that was fifteen years ago or more, and now I’ve forgotten her name. (It’s not like she ever spared me so much as the time of day.) But I still see the back of her head in my mind whenever I hear that song.

Perhaps you can imagine, then, my amusement at discovering the Black Leather Band filk version by the Bedlam Bards:

In a neat little town called Gomorrah,
By a cruel mistress I was bound.
And many’s the hour of happiness,
I spent there while I was tied down.

I tried my best for to please her,
As I fed her grapes and I fanned.
For only the wealthiest slaves gets the pleasure,
Of wearing her black leather band.

Oh the moonlight gleamed off her handcuffs,
As she gave me the back of her hand.
The whip cracked down as I lay there,
Tied up with her black leather band.

She liked to go strolling through Sodom (or Down Broadway)
On a short leash I couldn’t go far,
Reined in by a frolicsom damsel,
With tattoos and a dagger-shaped scar.

I woke one day from my lust for her,
And the laces I took from my hands.
When she came, I put her in position,
Tied up with her own leather bands.

So beware all you randy young fellows,
When a lassie takes advantage of ye.
Enjoy it as long as you like, me boys,
Then turn her right over your knee.

Nice turnabout!