Royalty, lord it looked good on me
Buried in silk in the royal boudoir or going nuclear free
Or playing Crokinole with the Princess of Monaco
Telling my jokes to the OPEC leaders, getting it all on video
Like so many folkies, I once considered Canadian ex-folkrockers Moxy Fruvous "our" rock band, though looking back, I find that such ownership was primarily endemic to a particular New England ruralfolk mindset -- one extraordinarily provincial, in fact, as evidenced by in-joke C-side Beware The Killer Tents, which name-drops a good several dozen older folk musicians who were in attendance at the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival the year that the winds were so heavy that at least one camper's tent took to the air, soaring above the festival mainstage like a bright and tiny hot air balloon, to live forever in infamy and song among a tiny slice of those who were there, and care.
But no matter the in-crowd, and no matter the unplugged geekrock sound, the folk connection is obvious, as is the glee with which they present it. As a general case, though their mid-career work got a bit folksappy, Moxy Fruvous at their best present a particularly ecosensitive mindset mapped in vocal-heavy madness; here, on one of several catchy numbers from their indie label debut Bargainville, they apply this winning solution to a delightful tale of an honest royal's rise and fall a la the same bait and switch that made the classic tale of the Prince and Pauper so memorable, with the abdication of the throne in favor of socialized foodstuffs and good honest work in the northernmost lands of the American continent, where royalty is still celebrated at a distance via coinage and faint-praise tribute, but the people truly rule.
I considered this silly ditty for our previous theme, but it belongs here, too, and I'm happy to have a second chance to share it. Though the band remains on indefinite hiatus after a mere decade of existence (circa 1989 to 2000), I'd encourage those charmed by the Fruvous sound to pursue the Fruhead archives.