Loreena McKennit also sings a version. The full poem is on The Visit and an abbreviated version (only 7-8 minutes, IIRC) on her double live album. I love the poem and have a longstanding interest in finding good recorded poetry, whether set to music or not. Can you tell me where I might be able to find the Lauren Hoffman version?
The best lack all conviction
The worst are full of passionate intensity.
*
We’re knights of the round table, we dance whene’re we’re able.
We do routines, and border scenes, with footwork imp-e-cable;
We dine well here in Camelot, we eat ham and jam and spamalot.
We’re knights of the round table, our shows are for-mid-able
Though many times, we’re given rhymes, that are quite un-sing-able
We’re not so bad in Camelot, we sing from the Dia-phragm alot!
Though we’re tough and able,
Quite in-de-fa-ti-gable,
Between our quests, we seek incest and impersonate Clark Gable,
It’s a busy life in Camelot:
I have to push the pram-a-lot!
http://www.madpoet.com
Clerks - Just because they serve you doesn’t mean they like you.
Oops, sorry, Spiritus, I meant McKennit Lauren Hoffman is pretty cool, though–in Megiddo “I Hope You Don’t Mind” is a surprisingly upbeat song, despite lyrics like “The world’s fucked up and we’re all gonna die”. I like “Fall Away”, too (“I called on gods to light my way/And they whispered softly in my mind/And still I praise the dawn of day/When they crawl and fall behind”). Too bad the album is hard to find. Loreena McKennit, for all that I can’t remember her name correctly, is one of my favorite singers–I have The Visit and a couple other of her CDs.
Put a period between “McKennit” and “Lauren Hoffman” in that first line and that post might actually make sense. No promises, though.
Is it safe to say that there’s been at least one born in the last nineteen years? ::raises his hand:: anybody?
Bravely bold Sir Robin rode forth from Camelot.
He was not afraid to die, oh Brave Sir Robin.
He was not at all afraid to be killed in nasty ways, brave brave brave brave Sir Robin.
He was not in the least bit scared to be mashed into a pulp,
or to have his eyes gouged out and his elbows broken,
to have his kneecaps split and his body burned away,
and his limbs all hacked and mangled, Brave Sir Robin.
His head smashed in and his heart cut out and his liver removed his bowels unblocked and his nostrils raked and his bottom burned up and his penis…
That’s, uh, that’s enough singing for now, lads.
I sold my soul to Satan for a dollar. I got it in the mail.
I commend your musical taste, gaudere. McKennit is wonderful. I will try to track down some Lauren Hoffman; I’m always on the lookout for a new musical fix.
Five points to me.
Of course, I downloaded the MP3 to get that, but hey, I knew MOST of it anyway.
I sold my soul to Satan for a dollar. I got it in the mail.
Points eh? Who does 'e think 'e is? I thought we were an autonomous collective.
As far as I see not many among you take into account all the years that no decent men were born. This turned out to be a poetry or lyrics session instead of a simple identity question in accounting. Most of you prefer to beat around the bush or become sensitive enough to claim themselves as “indecent men already born.” The emphasis is on the years, friends. So keep on thinking instead of developing a moronistic touch.
Brave Sir Robin ran away!
I didn’t!
He bravely ran away, away!
I DIDN’T!
When danger reared it’s ugly head,
He bravely turned his tail and fled…
“The large print givith, and the small print taketh away.”
Tom Waites, “Step Right Up”
Perhaps ye might step down and enlighten us of the “moronistic touch?”
(Has anyone got ‘moronistic’ in their OED? Mine seems to be missin’ that page of a sudden, and ye know I’m easily confused.)
I’m makin’ a wild guess that yer speaking of years and births and men. (How am I doing so far?) ‘Decent’ seems to be used as a modifier, and consistent with my campaign to eliminate the unconscionable exploitation of adjectives in adverbial roles I’ll allow as how I’m pretty sure that you’re actually the ghost of Bertrand Russell come to harangue us about havin’ not found that ‘beauty cold and austere’ that ye kept goin’ on about.
Please disabuse me of this notion at yer earliest convenience.
Thank you for your kind attention.
Dr. Watson
“There are no sermons in stones. It is easier to get a spark out of a stone than a moral.” – (Damn. Burroughs?)
Poet, shouldn’t that be ‘sequin vests’?
“Look, it’s my duty as a knight to try and sample as much peril as I can.”
Rather than take into account all the years that no decent man was born, it’ll be easier to take into account the years that they were.
But first, what is a decent man? I content that he is one who is characterized by conformity to recognized standard of propriety. You could also insist he be properly or moderately dressed.
Since none can conform to a recognized standard until he is able to exercise free will, I’ll use the age of 20 as a benchmark.
Hence, if a 20-year-old participated in the summer of love, he would have been born in 1948. Not conforming to societies standards you could argue that “In 1948 there was no decent man born.”
Of course that would be an osticism of all males who did conform.
Not willing to ostricize myself, I say the following answers are a result of your second posting:
1891-95, 1922-42, 1963, 1965, 1972
Now you claim the “emphasis is on the years, friends.” Which I contend is wrong.
The OP states “Who …”!
Since I’ve answered, I must say the answer to your original query is thus:
ChiefScott
“Though I hate 'em, I’ll defend to my death your right to use smilies.”
Forward deployed until 18AUG00
“Though I hate 'em, I’ll defend to my death your right to use smilies.”
Forward deployed until 18AUG00
I can tell you 1972 was a very, very good year for decent men. 
Teaching: The ultimate birth control method.
RTF is right, it’s sequin vests, if you want proof, um, I’m sure you can find it online, or you can wait until March, at which point I’ll be able to scan my official copy of the lyrics (out of the CD jacket) and send you the gif.
HA, I say, HA!
Zoom, shoo, go away. You posted this in the wrong place at first and it got sent where it belongs, the realm of the mundane and pointless, and we’re having fun with it. I’m sorry if you got hurt, I truly am, but I’m sure all you need to is ask and the people here will shower pity, condolensces, and help on you, they’re good folk, mostly.
I sold my soul to Satan for a dollar. I got it in the mail.
I think that should be my apologizing. Shouldn’t it? I mean it is a gerund. Isn’t it?
Hmmm. And Ross should be Ross’s. Shouldn’t it?
Or Ross’…
Actually the sentence could have been better constructed thusly…
“Ross’ apology on behalf of all men is like me apologizing on behalf of all lesbian midgets.”
“Though I hate 'em, I’ll defend to my death your right to use smilies.”
Forward deployed until 18AUG00
I think that should be my apologizing. Shouldn’t it? I mean it is a gerund. Isn’t it?