This was a casualty of the move from Yahoo. I've reconstructed the lyrics (to Dargason), but the Yahoo! version included a discussion on how not to write a filk, and I don't remember the details. As it turns out, the rhyme structure is off (Dargason is in iambic tetrameter; each line here has nine feet), so it's on the list of songs to rewrite...someday.
There was a pretty and charming lass Who loved the stories of times long past. Of kings and queens and brave knights and squires And cauldrons boiling on open fires. And then she went to school far away And learned she could be the queen some day If she was consort to the brave knight Who won his bouts in crown tourney fight. They said she first of all had to find A strapping youth of the martial kind. A swordsman swift who slipped in and out And beat his foes in crown tourney bout. She said “On no man will I rely, To make me Queen and I'll tell you why. I'll pick up armor that's free of rust. And enter crown with a swing and thrust.” She found a master of sword and shield Whose aching back forced him off the field. He taught her all the things he had learned. Then sent her off for a crown to earn. A boastful braggart was her first foe Who leered and offered her blow for blow. She said “Oh, yes!” and with one flat snap She knocked the cad out cold on his back. Her next opponent, more circumspect, His head and body did well protect But leaned too far and let his guard down And so she went on to the next round. And thus she fought in the field that day And vanquished everyone sent her way With greatsword, polearm, one sword or two Her master's training was good and true. Her final foe was a famous duke Whose battle record was not a fluke. When they heard “Lay on!” they sallied forth, And clashed and clattered to show their worth. And when they both were brought to their knees The Duke turned to her and looked quite pleased. “Your teacher, lady, was my first squire. Granddaughter, lay-on and show your fire.” Was she brought down or did she prevail It makes no difference for this, our tale The legend's greater than history If it's not true, then it ought to be. So next time you a young lass espy, Look on her well and I'll tell you why. With tales of ladies whose armor gleam, She might be anything she can dream.