ÿþ<HTML><HEAD><TITLE> The Hoard of the Bards</TITLE></HEAD> <body background="borderhoarde.jpg"><BODY TEXT="#FFFFFF" LINK="#CCCC99" VLINK="#CC3300"> <a name="top"> <table border=0><tr><td><img src="knotbrooch.gif"></td><td colspan=2 align="center" height=100 width=600><ul><img src="hoardehead.gif" align="center"><br><img src="compleat.gif" align="center"></td></tr> <tr> <td width=150><a href="/bard/more.html"><img src="link_resource.gif" align="center" border=0></a><hr></p> </td> <td align="center" colspan=2><ul> <a href="#a"><img src="button_a.gif" border=0></a> <a href="#b"><img src="button_b.gif" border=0></a> <a href="#c"><img src="button_c.gif" border=0></a> <a href="#d"><img src="button_d.gif" border=0></a> <a href="#e"><img src="button_e.gif" border=0></a> <a href="#f"><img src="button_f.gif" border=0></a> <a href="#g"><img src="button_g.gif" border=0></a> <a href="#h"><img src="button_h.gif" border=0></a> <a href="#i"><img src="button_i.gif" border=0></a> <a href="#j"><img 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src="link_poems.gif" border=0></a><hr><br> <a href="/bard/songs"><img src="link_songs.gif" border=0></a><hr><br> <a href="/bard/merry"><img src="link_merry.gif" border=0></a><hr><br> <a href="http://HouseBarra.com"><img src="home.gif" border=0></a><hr><br> </td></tr></table><br> <table border=0><tr><td align="center" height=550 width=100></td></tr></table> </td> <td> <font size=3><b><i></p><ul> <a href="#1">A 12-step Program for Bardic Circle Recovery</a><br> <a href="#2">A 20-Minute Bardic Workout</a><br> <a href="#3">Advice to Ladies</a><br> <a href="#4">Again and Again</a><br> <a href="#5">Ale in my Cup</a><br> <a href="#6">Angus' Kilt</a><br> <a href="#7">Anne Boleyn Song</a><br> <a href="#8">Archer's Lament, The</a><br> <a href="#9">Armorer of Meridies</a><br> <a href="#10">Artan's Toy</a><br> <a href="#11">Auchindoon</a><br> <a href="#12">Ballad of Sir Charlie, The</a><br> <a href="#13">Ballad of Sleep Wars, The</a><br> <a href="#14">Beowulf</a><br> <a href="#15">Birthday Dirge</a><br> <a href="#16">Bjorn the Viking</a><br> <a href="#17">Black Widows in the Privy</a><br> <a href="#18">Blood Oath</a><br> <a href="#19">Bonny Mary of Argyle</a><br> <a href="#20">Border Lament, The</a><br> <a href="#21">Brisk Young Butcher</a><br> <a href="#22">Cabin in the Woods</a><br> <a href="#23">Calling on Song</a><br> <a href="#24">Carlough</a><br> <a href="#25">Celtic Ring of Fire</a><br> <a href="#26">Chastity Belt, The</a><br> <a href="#26b">Chortle, The</a><br> <a href="#27">Circles</a><br> <a href="#28">Closer to Daylight</a><br> <a href="#29">Cois na Teineadh</a><br> <a href="#30">Come Share the Dream</a><br> <a href="#31">Come, Follow, Follow</a><br> <a href="#32">Coming of Spring</a><br> <a href="#33">Crafty Maid's Policy, The</a><br> <a href="#34">Crusader's Song, The</a><br> <a href="#35">Day the Table Died, The</a><br> <a href="#36">Do Virgins Taste Better</a><br> <a href="#37">Dragon Road</a><br> <a href="#38">Documentation for Duck Tape</a><br> <a href="#39">Early Mournin' Dew</a><br> <a href="#40">English Vice</a><br> <a href="#41">Faire Opening, Faire Closing</a><br> <a href="#42">Fairy's Love Song, The</a><br> <a href="#43">Favor, The</a><br> <a href="#44">Folk o' the Plaid</a><br> <a href="#45">Fop Hunt</a><br> <a href="#46">Forth Castle Chronicle</a><br> <a href="#47">Four Blind Mice</a><br> <a href="#48">Four Drunken Maidens</a><br> <a href="#49">Froggy Song, The</a><br> <a href="#50">Gentry Are Sleeping, The</a><br> <a href="#51">Get Me to the Site On Time</a><br> <a href="#52">Gilda and the Dragon</a><br> <a href="#53">Golden Vanity, The</a><br> <a href="#54">Greensleeves</a><br> <a href="#55">Gypsy Rover</a><br> <a href="#56">Heigh, Ho, Nobody Home</a><br> <a href="#57">Heralds Said to Me, The</a><br> <a href="#58">If I Only Had A Bard</a><br> <a href="#59">I'm a Duke and You're Not</a><br> <a href="#60">I'm a Rover</a><br> <a href="#61">Itches In Me Britches</a><br> <a href="#62">Jesuitmont</a><br> <a href="#63">Johnny Be Fair</a><br> <a href="#64">Joy to the World</a><br> <a href="#65">Knights, Boys, Knights</a><br> <a href="#66">Lest We for Love</a><br> <a href="#67">Lizzie Lindsay</a><br> </td><td></p><font size=3><ul><b><i></p> <a href="#68">Local SCA</a><br> <a href="#69">Long Distance Squire</a><br> <a href="#70">Lutefisk and Yams</a><br> <a href="#71">Maids in Trades</a><br> <a href="#72">Man Who Wouldn't Die, The</a><br> <a href="#73">Mattie Groves</a><br> <a href="#74">Mead for the Servant</a><br> <a href="#75">Men of the Picts</a><br> <a href="#76">Meridies</a><br> <a href="#77">Mightiest Weapon, The</a><br> <a href="#78">Miller of Dee, The</a><br> <a href="#79">Must I Go Bound</a><br> <a href="#80">My Favorite Things</a><br> <a href="#81">My Love Come Late in Life</a><br> <a href="#82">No Lady</a><br> <a href="#83">Ode to Joy</a><br> <a href="#84">Old Dun Cow, The (MacIntyre)</a><br> <a href="#85">Old Time Religion</a><br> <a href="#86">One Misty Moisty Morning</a><br> <a href="#87">Out of Sight, Out of Mind</a><br> <a href="#88">Paddy's Song</a><br> <a href="#89">Pennsic, Soon Around the Corner</a><br> <a href="#90">Preachain Song</a><br> <a href="#91">Price of a Nobleman's Pride, The</a><br> <a href="#92">Price of Duty, The</a><br> <a href="#93">Priest, The</a><br> <a href="#94">Queen Among the Heather, The</a><br> <a href="#95">Queen of All Argyle, The</a><br> <a href="#96">Ramblin' Rover, The</a><br> <a href="#97">Red Belt, Silver Spurs</a><br> <a href="#98">Rite of Passage</a><br> <a href="#99">Ritual of Lughnasadh, The</a><br> <a href="#100">Road to Estrella, The</a><br> <a href="#101">Road to Rome, The</a><br> <a href="#102">Rose, Rose</a><br> <a href="#103">Signs</a><br> <a href="#104">Simple Joys of Maidenhood, The</a><br> <a href="#105">Sitting 'Round the Fire</a><br> <a href="#106">Skye Boat Song, The</a><br> <a href="#107">Sleeping Scotsman, The</a><br> <a href="#108">Song of Roland</a><br> <a href="#109">Song of the Shield Wall</a><br> <a href="#110">Sonnet, A</a><br> <a href="#111">Spotted Cow, The</a><br> <a href="#112">Spring Strathspey</a><br> <a href="#113">Staines Morris</a><br> <a href="#114">Star of the County Down, The</a><br> <a href="#115">Stranger in the Camp</a><br> <a href="#116">Supercalafragalistic</a><br> <a href="#117">Tavern Song, The</a><br> <a href="#118">Temperance Union</a><br> <a href="#119">Thank God I'm a Nobleman</a><br> <a href="#121">There's Me a Lassie</a><br> <a href="#121b">Three Blind Laurels</a><br> <a href="#122b">Too Much of a Good Thing</a><br> <a href="#122">Traditions</a><br> <a href="#123">Trapper, The</a><br> <a href="#123b">Traveler's Tale</a><br> <a href="#124">Twelfth Knight, The</a><br> <a href="#125">Two Magicians</a><br> <a href="#126">Unquiet Grave, The</a><br> <a href="#127">Viking's Christmas Carol, A</a><br> <a href="#128">Vivat the Dream</a><br> <a href="#129">Wager, The</a><br> <a href="#130">Wearin' O' the Green, The</a><br> <a href="#131">Welsh History 101</a><br> <a href="#132">When the Ale Runs Out</a><br> <a href="#133">Wild Rover</a><br> <a href="#133b">With Honor Clear</a><br> <a href="#134">Witch, The Bagge and the Bishop, The</a><br> <a href="#135">Woad of Harlech</a><br> </td></tr> <tr> <td width=150></td> <td colspan=2 align="center" height=100><p align="center"> <a href="http://HouseBarra.com">Home</a> <img src="fdiv.gif"> <a href="/bard/">The Hoarde of the Bards</a> <img src="fdiv.gif"> <a href="/bard/poems">Poems</a> <img src="fdiv.gif"> <a href="/bard/songs">Songs</a><br> <a href="/bard/merry">The Merry Bard's Page</a> </td></tr></table> <center> <img src="tablebar.gif" height=42 width=750> </center><table border=0 width=100% background="back10.gif" TEXT="#110000" LINK="#990000" VLINK="#660000"> <tr><td width=100% height=20 colspan=2></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#990000" VLINK="#660000"><b><i> <a name="a"> <a name="1"> 12-Step Program for Bardic Circle Recovery </p><font size=3> by Gunnar Redbeard </b></i></p> 1. I must stop carrying my songbook with me wherever I go, especially in mundane activities.<br> 2. I must clean out my wallet/purse and throw away all those scraps of paper with bits and pieces of poetry on them.</br> 3. I must stop referring to past SCA events as "that bardic circle of such-and-such date".<br> 4. I must stop analyzing people's speech patterns and categorizing them by rhyme and meter.<br> 5. I must recognize that few people, even in the SCA, are really amused by my "life experiences" such as getting traffic tickets, etc.<br> 6. I must understand and accept that there are SCA activities in the daytime as well.<br> 7. I must learn to stop filking advertising jingles.<br> 8. I must learn not to refer to the Crown as the "designated smoke magnet".<br> 9. I must stop writing business letters in sonnet formats.<br> 10. I must stop using Shakespearean oratory style when talking with my co-workers and especially with my employer.<br> 11. I must carefully rearrange the furniture in my home so that it is not in a circle.<br> 12. And most especially, I must stop this pernicious habit of coming up with bogus "12-step programs"!</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="2"> The 20 Minute Bardic Workout<br> </p><font size=3> <some props required)</p> by Gunnar Redbeard</p> </b></i></p> <b><i>1. The Bardic Dual Tankard Lift:</b></i><br> With two tankards or drinking horns, do 30 reps at full extension, while thanking your host profusely.</p> <b><i>2. The Bardic Call to Battle:</b></i><br> Respond instantly to any buffet line, being one of the first served. While bellying up to the bar, fill three large wooden plates and drinking horn while thanking your host profusely. Repeat until lacquer is worn off plates.</p> <b><i>3. The Bardic Squat and Lunge:</b></i><br> Sit closely to a fire and sing at the top of your lungs while inhaling enough smoke to cure a ham. When person asks for a chair, thank your host profusely and lunge for another chair. Repeat until all chairs have been sat in.</p> <b><i>4. The Bardic Pentathalon:</b></i><br> Book several conflicting gigs. While carrying a full tankard and a 40-lb. music book and wearing life-threatening clothing, run full tilt into a totally dark forest after sitting in front of a blazing fire. See how many wrong encampments you run into before you find the right one. After you run into your seventh tree, crawl to the nearest encampment, ask for a beer, and thankyour host profusely.</p> <b><i>5. The Bardic Flirt and Duck/Run:</b></i><br> Find cute person of you desire. This person will usually be attended by largest, scariest person outside of a prison movie. Flirt, duck, run. Repeat until cornered. When encampment pulls you out of the tree, thank your host profusely.</p> <b><i>6. The Bardic Test of Manhood/Womanhood: </b></i><br> Find the least most receptive encampment. Uninvited, sing 20 minutes of ancient Latvian Siege Yodeling, complete with <i>"!bangi"</i> glottal stops, while inhaling burning embers. Survive. find the nearest friendly encampment, and let them peel off the duct tape. Thank your host profusely.</p> <b><i>7. The Bardic "Dreaded Eyebrow of Scorn":</b></i><br> Find the most arts-oriented encampment. While surrounded completely by people wearing significant medallions and ornaments, take a request for the hardest piece of material you've barely learned. Perform, while the three people with Ph.D.'s in folklore, musicology and ethno-linguistics prepare a doctoral critique on what you did wrong. Watch as their 9-year-old daughter performs it beautifully on the harp, backwards, and blindfolded. Pick flattened ego off the ground, crawl away, thanking you host profusely. </p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="3"> Advice to Ladies </p><font size=3> ©1995 by Morgan Wolfsinger<br> mka Catherine Demott </b></i></p></p> Chorus:<br> And it's men! Men! Drink to the men!<br> Drain mug or goblet, then raise it again!<br> For, though they are trouble, there's still one in ten<br> That's worth every minute, so drink to the men!</p> O, men are strange critters, and given to lust,<br> And rare is the one who is worthy of trust<br> Where love is concerned. In such matters, one knows<br> They're best led around by the balls, not the nose!</p> Chorus</p> Now if you find out that his love is a sheep,<br> Don't worry, she's warm and she's easy to keep.<br> She'll not ask for diamonds, or rubies, or wine,<br> And served up with mint sauce she'll taste mighty fine!</p> Chorus</p> If your love's fought too long now, and boys are his choice,<br> Don't cry the moat full, lass. Stand up and rejoice!<br> His new light 'o love might be manly and fair,<br> And, if you ask sweetly, then maybe he'll share!</p> Chorus</p> If his heart's desire seems reallly quite young,<br> In fact, at an age where a lullaby's sung.<br> Just send off a note the town constable's way,<br> Then smile, give her cookies, and send her to play.</p> Chorus</p> Now should your love's tastes run to leather and chains,<br> Jelly and butter and other things strange.<br> If such does amuse you, then join in the fun.<br> If not, see that he is the receiving one!</p> Chorus</p> If worse comes to worst now, and he's his own love,<br> Don't send up your cries to the heavens above.<br> Just dust off his clothes, give his mirror a shine,<br> And you and his ego will get along fine!</p> Chorus</p> If you've found no comfort in what I have said,<br> You're tired of his quirks, and you wish he was dead,<br> Don't slice up your lover, for murder's a crime,<br> Just find you another, and have a good time!</p> Chorus</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="4"> Again and Again </p><font size=3> traditional English </b></i></p></p> I married a wife, oh then, oh then <br> I married a wife, oh then<br> I married a wife, she's the plague of my life!<br> I wish I was single again.</p> Chorus<br> Again and again and again and again,<br> Again and again and again!</p> My wife took a fever<br> I prayed wouldn't leave her<br> For I wished to be single again.</p> Chorus</p> My wife then she died.<br> I laughed 'till I cried<br> I was glad to be single again.</p> Chorus</p> I went to the funeral<br> The band it played,<br> And I danced all the way<br> For the joy to be single again!</p> Chorus</p> I married another<br> Far worse than the other.<br> And I wish I was single again!</p> Chorus</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="5"> Ale In My Cup </p><font size=3> By Stephen of the Grove </b></i></p></p> I've wandered and traveled throughout many lands <br> I've smiled at the ladies and I've kissed their hands<br> I've told a few stories and sang 'til sun-up<br> And I'll do it tonight, if there's ale in my cup.</p> I'll drink until morning, I don't need a dare.<br> I'll laugh at the king (if the king doesn't care)<br> I'll be under the table, but then I'll stand up<br> As soon as you pour me some ale in my cup.</p> I'll drink and I'll sing, all through the night.<br> I'll sleep only after I've seen the daylight.<br> I'll rise for the feast, I'll sit down and sup<br> And then I will revel with ale in my cup.</p> I'll play with my sticks to amuse the crowd<br> And if I do well, they'll all cheer out loud.<br> With three in my hands, I'll start to throw up<br> For I juggle much better without ale in my cup</p> So I'll build a fire, and you bring a chair.<br> You bring your guitar and you just be there.<br> You tell a story and you sing a song,<br> And if we all know it we'll all sing along.</p> We'll sing about maidens rescued by kings<br> Tell stories of seamen and sea-monster things.<br> And if someone asks me, why, then I'll get up<br> And sing you a song about ale in my cup.</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="6"> Angus' Kilt </p><font size=3> by Michael Sean MacLeish of Emerald Keep </b></i></p></p></td></tr> <tr><td width=50%><font size=3 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"> Have ye heard the tale<br> The bonnie Scots telled<br> 'Bout ol' Angus MacLeish<br> And wha's in his kilt?</p> If ye listen to me<br> I'll tell ye I will<br> All that I've heard<br> 'Bout Angus' kilt.</p> Chorus</p> 'Twas a big one he had.<br> Much larger than mine<br> And the bonnie lasses bragged<br> 'Bout it all o' the time.</p> Once out on the lochs<br> A storm took our sail<br> But ol' Angus saved us all<br> With his kilt in the gale.</p> So we sailed into port<br> With his kilt in our rig<br> And the crowds did exclaim<br> By the Gods, it is big!</p> Chorus</p> Once out on the high moors<br> In the snows we were lost.<br> With no hopes of shelter<br> To keep out the frost.</p> If not for ol' Angus<br> We'd've died in the wind,<br> But a pavilion we had<br> When his kilt was unpinned.</p> Chorus</p> </td><td width=50%><font size=3 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"> Once o'er in the Holy Lands,<br> When we needed a flag<br> But we could na find naught<br> Save a dirty old rag.</p> But ol' Angus once more<br> Did he come to our aid<br> When he unwound his kilt <br> For our victory parade.</p> Chorus</p> Once after a battle <br> We needed a shroud.<br> To bury not one<br> But the whole clan McCloud</p> O'l Angus stepped forward<br> And said to the priest<br> "Ye can have me kilt sir, <br> To cover up your deceased."</p> Chorus</p> Once making some scotch<br> When we needed a sieve<br> To strain through with whiskey<br> From Erin I believe</p> Old Angus once more<br> Did he top all the rest<br> When he took off his kilt<br> And made that batch our best.</p> Chorus</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="7"> Anne Boleyn Song </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> In the Tower of London large as life,<br> The ghost of Anne Boleyn walks, they declare<br> Poor Anne Boleyn was once King Henry's wife,<br> Until he made the headsman bob her hair<br> Ah, yes, he did her wrong long years ago<br> And she comes out at night to tell him so....</p> Chorus<br> With her head, tucked, underneath her arm, <br> She walks the bloody tower<br> With her head, tucked, underneath her arm<br> At the midnight hour</p> She's come to haunt King Henry, <br> She means giving him what for<br> Gadzooks, she's going to tell him off<br> For spilling all her gore,<br> And just in case the headsman wants to give her an encore<br> She has her head tucked underneath her arm</p> Chorus</p> Sometimes gay King Henry gives a spread<br> For all his Earls and churls a ghostly fun<br> The headsman carves the joint and cuts the bread<br> Til Anne Boleyn comes in to spoil the run<br> She holds her head up with a wild war hoop!<br> And Henry cries "Don't drop it in the soup!"</p> Chorus</p> One night she found King Henry, He was in the Canteen Bar<br> Said he "Are you Jane Seymore, Anne Boleyn, or Katherine Parr?<br> How the sweet St. Parian do I know who you are?<br> With your head tucked underneath your arm?" </p> Chorus</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="8"> The Archer's Lament </p><font size=3> by Yitzhak ibn Yoshua<br> filk: Greensleeves </b></i></p></p> I am an archer without peer, <br> My arrows faithfully find their mark<br> But when I beckon a comely lass<br> She flies away like a skittish lark.</p> Oh, lonely shall I spend my days. <br> Never to find my true love. <br> Fighters always get the girls <br> And leave nothing for us but the crumbs.</p> My aim is true with a lady love<br> From twenty yards, my shaft hits the spot<br> While fighters flail 'round with hunks of steel<br> To compensate for what they've not got.</p> My skin is softer than purest silk<br> My body free of disfigurement. <br> So why do ladies near and far<br> Seek victims of dismemberment?</p> I've killed ten score of the bravest men<br> With arrows right between their eyes. <br> But let a swordsman come in the room<br> And all of the ladies will let out sighs.</p> My skill in archery is my life<br> But ladies fair I have never scored.<br> So I've put for sale my finest bow, <br> And bought a big bloody bastard sword.</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="9"> Armorer of Meridies </p><font size=3> ©1999 by Lord Stephen of Forth Castle<br> mka Stephen Sheldon </b></i></p></p></td></tr> <tr></td><td width=50%><font size=3 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"> I swing my might hammer,<br> I hear the anvil ring.<br> I stoke the fire higher,<br> Red as the dragon's wing.<br> I forge both gold and silver,<br> A many a Kingdom day.<br> Oh, it brings me pride to strike that iron<br> As an armourer of Meridies.</p> I swing no blade of glory,<br> The battle is not for me.<br> Though many a blade's passed through my hands<br> To bring us victory.<br> Our troops go forth my blades in hand<br> My steel they use to slay.<br> Oh, it brings me pride to strike that iron<br> As an armourer of Meridies.</p> Coats of plates and rings of mail<br> I give away for free.<br> For there is no coin in all the land<br> That you could give to me<br> To match the thrill of a warrior's skill<br> As in my armour he plays.<br> Oh, it brings me pride to strike that iron<br> As an armourer of Meridies.</p> </td><td width=50%><font size=3 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"> Look out across the field, <br> Out in the rising sun.<br> A sea of shining steel,<br> A battle to be won.<br> Though they may try their blows won't land,<br> And we will win the day,<br> Oh, it brings me pride to strike that iron<br> As an armourer of Meridies.</p> <i>(slower)</i><br> Some day I won't be able to raise my hammer anymore.<br> For years come fast and take a toll,<br> As battles in a war.<br> But as I leave this world behind,<br> My tombstone it will say:<br> Oh, I was proud to strike that iron<br> As an armourer of Meridies.</p> <i>(faster)</i><br> I swing my might hammer,<br> I hear the anvil ring.<br> I stoke the fire higher,<br> Red as the dragon's wing.<br> I forge both gold and silver,<br> A many a Kingdom day.<br> Oh, it brings me pride to strike that iron<br> As an armourer of Meridies.</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="10"> Artan's Toy </p><font size=3> by Ceara ni Neill<br> mka Alexandria Long<br> filk: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer </b></i></p></p> Good Lord Artan MacDarach <br> Had a very big ego<br> And if you ever saw him, <br> He would say that he had grown!</p> He liked to build big toys, <br> So he built a trebusche.<br> Thought he could hurl some TP<br> When he brought it out to play.</p> Then one winter solstice eve <br> Lord Stephen set us right.<br> "Lord Artan let that TP fly, <br> It hit my helm and was not light!"</p> Then all the fighters cheered him, <br> And we shouted out with glee.<br> "Well," said Artan MacDarach, <br> "That's medieval history."</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="11"> Auchindoon </p><font size=3> traditional </b></i></p></p> As I came 'pon Finnachside, all on a May morning<br> I saw Willie McIntosh, as the cocks were crowing.</p> <i>Chorus 1</i><br> Turn ye McIntosh, turn again I bid thee<br> If you burn Auchindoon, Huntley he will head thee<br> Head me or hang me, that well ne're frighten me<br> I''ll burn Auchindoon, e're my life shall leave me.</p> As I came 'pon Auchindoon, all on a May morning<br> Auchindoon was burning, as the cocks were crowing.</p> <i>Chorus 2</i><br> Burning, burning, Auchindoon was burning<br> For Huntley had killed Murrey all on a May morning<br> Head me or hang me, that will ne're frighten me<br> I'll burn Auchindoon, e're my life shall leave me.</p> As I came 'pon Cairn Coon, all on a May morning<br> I saw Willie McIntosh, amidst the town a burning.</p> <i>Chorus 2 (slower)</i></p> Bonnie Willie McIntosh, where have ye left your fine young men?<br> I've left them down at Stapley Gate and they will ne're come home again.</p> <i>Chorus 1</i></p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="b"> <a name="12"> The Ballad of Sir Charlie </p><font size=3> by Sir Cipriano d'Alvarez<br> mka Guy Bradley<br> filk: The Man Who Never Returned</b></i> </b></i></p></p></td></tr> <tr></td><td width=50%><font size=3 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"> Let me tell you the story 'bout a man named Charlie<br> How he signed his life away<br> He put ten bucks in the mail, sent it off to California<br> And he joined the SCA.</p> Oh will he ever return, oh no he'll never return<br> And his fate is still unlearned <br> He may wait forever for his first newsletter<br> He's the man who never returned.</p> His first event was down in Trimaris<br> Oh perhaps it was Aphar<br> All the lords and ladies and the knights and squires<br> Said, "That man, he's gonna go far."</p> Oh will he ever return, oh no he'll never return<br> And his fate is still unlearned<br> He said, "This is the life, so goodbye to my wife."<br> He's the man who never returned. </p> His next event was called Red Tower<br> Where he earned his battle star<br> Well he cleared the field of ev'ry contender<br> And he wasn't even breathing hard.</p> Oh will he ever return, oh no he'll never return<br> And his fate is still unlearned<br> Now he's driving 'cross the land, looking for some more rattan.<br> He's the man who never returned.</p> His third event was at Iron Mountain<br> And there he became a Lord<br> And before he knew, he was a squire too<br> By the virtue of his sword.</p> Oh will he ever return, oh no he'll never return<br> And his fate is still unlearned<br> All the time remaining he spends in training;<br> He's the man who never returned.</p> By number four he had earned even more<br> He had his own Barony<br> He was now known as Captain Baron Squire Lord Charlie<br> OVO and OGB</p> Oh will he ever return, oh no he'll never return<br> And his fate is still unlearned<br> He found the hardest fighting was reports that needed writing<br> He's the man who never returned.</p> </td><td width=50%><font size=3 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"> By number five it came as no surprise<br> When Charlie became a knight<br> With seventeen ladies hanging onto his collar<br> It was also an eventful night.</p> Oh will he ever return, oh no he'll never return<br> And his fate is still unlearned<br> With seventeen ladies in a two man cabin<br> He's the man who never returned.</p> His sixth event was at Bryn Madoc<br> At the Collegium<br> Well before he left he was handed a Laurel<br> Earl Marshall and a Pelican.</p> Oh will he ever return, oh no he'll never return<br> And his fate is still unlearned<br> He could spend twenty years just in meeting with the peers<br> He's the man who never returned.</p> Sir Charlie said, "I've won ev'ry honor<br> I've earned most everything<br> Crown List is tomorrow down in White Buck Forest<br> Guess I'll try my hand at King."</p> Oh will he ever return, oh no he'll never return<br> And his fate is still unlearned<br> He may drive forever looking for Jesup, Gorgia.<br> He's the man who never returned.</p> The field down in Jesup was wet and was marshy<br> And there Charlie met his end<br> The last we could spy was his sword held high<br> As he sank beneath the fen.</p> Oh will he ever return, oh no he'll never return<br> And his fate is still unlearned<br> He may fight forever in the swamps of Jesup.<br> He's the man who never returned.</p> He may fight forever in the swamps of Jesup.<br> He's the man who never returned.</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="13"> The Ballad of Sleep Wars </p><font size=3> by Sir Cipriano d'Alvarez<br> mka Guy L. Bradley </b></i></p></p></td></tr> <tr><td width=40%><font size=3 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"> Sir John and Mistress Rondellynn<br> Had gaid themselves to bed<br> When on a sudden came a call<br> What made him raise his head</p> "What noise is this', the wee knight cried<br> 'That breaks our late repose<br> Be he man or beast or evil wight<br> I swear I'll have his nose!" </p> In desperation came a voice<br> O'er distance great and far,<br> "Upon thy honor, tell me true<br> Is the king there where ye are?" </p> "Hold hard sir," cried the noble knight <br> "And speak thy name to me<br> For, baseborn knave, I grieve to say<br> Thou hast interrupted me." </p> "If thou had waited seconds more <br> The deed it would be done<br> A nonce is all that 'tis required <br> For me to have my fun." </p> "By holy water, sir," he cried,<br> "Thou art no friend of mine.<br> He who would do such evil deed<br> Is not a man, but swine!" </p> "Sir John I fear thou goes too far"<br> The voice from distance cried.<br> "Sir Robert of Hightower is <br> The name by which I bide." </p> "Sir Robert of Hightower, then,<br> Woulds't thou explain to me<br> Why thou dids't think to find the King<br> Between my wife and me?" </p> "Name not your pleasures now to me<br> I'll trouble thee no more.<br> The King is he who I do seek;<br> Continue as before." </p> Sir John he went before the king:<br> "A grievous wrong is done.<br> That man from Iron Mountain did<br> Awaken us at one." </p> "Be of good cheer," Orlando said.<br> "Thou'll have thy pound of flesh."<br> His wife just smiled quietly<br> For a change it would be fresh. </p> Sir Robert, he went urgently<br> To the Baron in his hall<br> "O aid me now, for I do fear<br> That war's upon us all." </p> The Iron Baron took his maps <br> And said, "Ah, here's the key."<br> "The first man e'er in Southdowns fair<br> Was from my Barony." </p> </td><td width=60%><font size=3 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"> Then on that cold November day<br> When the Crown Prince was declared<br> The Baron he approached the throne <br> And the map of the kingdom bared. </p> "Lord King, " the Baron pointed out,<br> "As thou can plainly see,<br> By Ulrich's fame, I do proclaim<br> Southdowns belongs to me." </p> "So justice now I ask of thee<br> For I shall have my rights;<br> If Southdowns is not given me<br> There shall be cause to fight." </p> "O foul, O foul!" Sir John did cry<br> "You claim there's cause for war<br> If thou wilt hear my earnest plea<br> I'll tell thee even more." </p> "Speak up, good knight", Orlando said<br> For he knew what would come<br> And so Sir John he told his tale<br> Of that eldritch call at one. </p> The Baron then confronted John,<br> "O tell thy tale no more.<br> Thy petty sleep is not concern <br> For us to fight a war." </p> The up spoke Mistress Rondallynn<br> For she was filled with ire<br> 'Twas not our sleep that was disturbed,<br> For we had not retired!" </p> Then was the Crown Prince heard to say<br> In a voice both deep and thick<br> "Whoever interrupted you<br> Must have been ungodly quick." </p> O'er the bench Sir John did bound<br> At the Prince's throat he went.<br> And if he could, he thought he would <br> There make a bloody rent. </p> "Hold fast, good knights," Orlando cried<br> "No blood shall fill my hall.<br> 'Tis matter I shall settle now<br> To satisfy us all." </p> "Usurper, tyrant, fey and mad<br> Are names which I've been called<br> I now decree to Southdown's lords, <br> Iron Mountain shall be sold." </p> Up to the roof the cries did ring,<br> And these cries called for war.<br> And so the battle plans were drawn<br> For the month we number four. </p> So warriors, shine thine armor bright<br> And sharpen up thy swords,<br> For on this day shall come the fray<br> Which we do call Sleep Wars!</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="14"> Beowolf </p><font size=3> (the childrens' version)<br> by Rathfled DuNoir,<br> the Black Bard of Meridies <a href=http://www.chivalry.com/blackbard/"><i>website</i></a> </b></i></p></p> See Grendel. See Grendel eat. Eat, Grendel, eat.<br> Grendel is eating a few Danish for breakfast. <br> Grendel especially likes the ones with the yellow coating on top. <br> This is good because there are many of them. <br> Yummy!</p> See Hrothgar. He is sad. Sad, sad, sad.<br> His warriors are leaving. <br> They are sad because Grendel has eaten many of their friends.<br> They do not want to play with Grendel anymore because Grendel is mean.<br> Hrothgar is also sad because his food is almost gone. <br> Grendel eats the cows and pigs and horsies, too.<br> Grendel is very hungry. <br> Eat, Grendel, eat.</p> Hrothgar is also sad because his wife sill not stop complaining. <br> Whine, wife, whine. <br> Hrothgar has tried to stop listening to her for three days now. <br> Drink, Hrothgar, drink. Hrothgar is almost out of mead. <br> Poor Hrothgar.</p> O see Beowulf. <br> He is big and strong and handsome. <br> He has long Viking braids and pointy horns on his hat and a really big sword. <br> Ooh, Beowulf, ooh! <br> He is sailing to Denmark to visit Hrothgar. <br> Sail, Beowulf, sail.<br> He does not know that Hrothgar is almost out of mead. <br> Poor Beowulf.<br> Beowulf likes to sail. Beowulf likes to drink even more. <br> Poor Beowulf.</p> When he gets to Denmark, there is enough mead left for one feast. <br> Poor Beowulf. Poor Hrothgar. <br> Poor Warriors. Poor Grendel. <br> Beowulf is very mad. Mad, mad, mad.<br> Beowulf vows to slay Grendel.<br> Vow, Beowulf, vow.<br> He promises to do many great feats. <br> He swears to return with Grendel's head. <br> Drink, Beowulf, drink.</p> Beowulf is lying very still. <br> Is he waiting to surprise Grendel? No, he is not waiting to surprise Grendel. <br> Is he meditating? No, he is not meditating. <br> Is he practicing an Arcane magical ritual involving a lawn chair, six milk bottles and a tuning fork? <br> No, he is unconscious.<br> Won't he be surprised when he wakes up and they tell him about his promises?<br> Won't he be happy to know that he has a quest? <br> Won't he feel grand when the warriors cheer him?<br> No, Beowulf will not feel grand for a while. He has a headache.<br> Poor Beowulf. Please stop cheering, warriors.</p> O see the castle. It is very quiet. <br> Is it quiet because everyone is afraid of Grendel?<br> No, it is not quiet because everyone is afraid of Grendel.<br> Is it quiet because everyone is afraid of Beowulf?<br> Yes, it is quiet because everyone is afraid of Beowulf.<br> Beowulf has had a very bad headache for three days. <br> Last night, Beowulf's head hurt so much that he was very mad.<br> Mad, mad, mad.<br> Grendel came over to play and made too much noise. Beowulf was very upset. <br> Beowulf was so upset that he ripped Grendel's arm off and hung it over the door. <br> Poor Grendel. Poor warriors. <br> Smile at Beowulf. Just do it quietly.</p> O see the feast hall. <br> It is bright and cheery. <br> There is food on the tables and mead in the horns and a great big arm over the door.<br> They are singing and laughing and drinking. <br> Are they happy that Grendel is dead? Yes, they are happy that Grendel is dead. <br> Are they happy that they can laugh and sing and play again? <br> Yes, they are happy that they can laugh and sing and play again.<br> But most of all they are happy that there is more mead. <br> Drink, Beowulf, drink.</p> O see Hrothgar. He is happy. <br> Happy, happy, happy. <br> Is he happy that Grendel is dead? Is he happy that there is more mead?<br> Yes, but he is mostly happy because his wife has stopped complaining. <br> Smile, Hrothgar, smile.</p> O see Grendel's mother. She is sad. Sad, sad, sad. Is she sad because Grendel is gone? <br> Is she sad because her other children never call?<br> Is she sad because the Angels are losing again? <br> Yes, she is sad because of all these things. <br> But she is mostly sad because she won't get any more mother's day presents. <br> This makes her mad. <br> Mad, mad, mad.</p> She gets so mad that she decides to have some Danish for dessert. That is silly. <br> Everyone knows that you are supposed to have Danish for breakfast.<br> Silly, silly, silly.<br> In fact it is so silly that we think that Grendel's mother may have had something besides food for dinner.<br> We think that Grendel's mother may have been drinking. <br> Just like Beowulf.</p> O see Beowulf.<br> Now that there is mead again he is drinking some more. <br> Drink, Beowulf, drink.<br> When Grendel's mother comes to the feast, Beowulf has already drunk quite a bit. <br> So has Grendel's mother. <br> He thinks she is the most beautiful woman in the world and makes a pass at her.<br> Pass, Beowulf, pass. <br> She is caught off guard and says no. <br> Tease, monster, tease. </p> Beowulf tries again. <br> She leaves and he goes home with her. <br> Grendel's mother was never heard from again.<br> Beowulf was very quiet about the whole situation.<br> Quiet, quiet, quiet.</p> The End. </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="15"> The SCA Happy Birthday Song, </p><font size=3> otherwise known as the </i>Birthday Dirge<i><br> filk: The Volga Boatmen </b></i></p></p> <b>Chorus after every verse: Happy Birthday! <i>(UHH!)</i> Happy Birthday! <i>(UHH!)</i></b></p></p> </td></tr> <td width=50%><font size=3 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"> <b> 1.</b> Death and gloom and black despair<br> People dying everywhere</p> <b> 2.</b> May the candles on your cake<br> Burn like cities in your wake</p> <b> 3.</b> Fear and gloom and darkness yet<br> No one found out you know what</p> <b> 4.</b> You're a period cook, its true<br> Ask the beetles in the stew</p> <b> 5.</b> Now your jail-bait days are done<br> Let's go out and have some fun!</p> <b> 6.</b> Were I sitting in your shoes<br> I'd go out and sing the blues</p> <b> 7.</b> Now you've lived another year<br> Age to you is like stale beer</p> <b> 8.</b> Long ago your hair turned grey<br> Now it's falling out, they say</p> <b> 9.</b> Indigestion's what you get<br> From the enemies you 'et</p> <b>10.</b> This one lesson you must learn<br> FIRST you pillage, THEN you burn</p> <b>11.</b> While you eat your birthday stew<br> We will sack a town for you</p> <b>12.</b> Death will come before the dawn<br> Now's the time to party on!</p> <b>13.</b> Rape the horses while they sleep,<br> See the women wail and weep</p> <b>14.</b> Your ship of fortune arrives at last<br> Plague death flag nailed to its mast</p> <b>15.</b> You hear the patter of small feet<br> Midget thieves have robbed your keep</p> <b>16.</b> Your daughter's face could crack a mirror<br> Your firstborn son is acting queer</p> <b>17.</b> Burn the castle, storm the keep<br> Kill the women but save the sheep!</p> <b>18.</b> May your deeds with sheep and yaks<br> Equal those with sword and axe</p> <b>19.</b> Your servants steal, your wife's untrue<br> Your children plot to murder you</p> <b>20.</b> They stole your gold, your sword, your house<br> They stole your sheep, but not your spouse</p> <b>21.</b> So another year has passed<br> Don't look now they're gaining fast!</p> <b>22.</b> The Black Death has struck your town<br> You yourself feel quite run-down</p> </td><td width=50%><font size=3 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"> <b>23.</b> We brought you linen, white as clouds<br> Now we'll sit and sew your shroud!</p> <b>24.</b> So far death you have bypassed<br> Don't look back it's gaining fast</p> <b>25.</b> I'm a leper, can't you see <br> Have a birthday kiss from me</p> <b>26.</b> Burn, then rape by firelight<br> Add <i>romance</i> to life tonight!</p> <b>27.</b> Now you've lived another year,<br> And your death is drawing near.</p> <b>28.</b> Raise your cup of bitter cheer,<br> Make the barman eat his ear</p> <b>29.</b> We like children, yes we do<br> Baked or broiled or in a stew.</p> <b>30.</b> Famine, fear, and fire and flood,<br> Can't keep your face out of the mud.</p> <b>31.</b> News that fills our hearts with fear:<br> They've proved cancer's caused by beer</p> <b>32.</b> Just be glad the friends you've got<br> Haven't found out you-know-what!</p> <b>33.</b> Birthdays come but once a year<br> Marking time as Death draws near</p> <b>34.</b> Now you've reached the age you are<br> Your demise cannot be far</p> <b>35.</b> Like the wrinkles in your lace<br> Time is etched upon your face</p> <b>36.</b> When you've reached your age you know<br> That the mind is first to go</p> <b>37.</b> Now you've lived another year<br> And your death is drawing near</p> <b>38.</b> It's your birthday; never fear;<br> You'll be dead this time next year</p> <b>39.</b> Children dying everywhere<br> Women crying in despair</p> <b>40.</b> Typhoid, plague and polio<br> Coffins lined up in a row</p> <b>41.</b> May the children in the street<br> Be your barbequeing meat</p> <b>42.</b> Your friends are here, your enemies too,<br> We just don't know who is who....</p> <b>43.</b> May the women that you see<br> Not have sense enough to flee</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="16"> Bjorn, the Viking </p><font size=3> by Eogan Og MacLaren<br> filk: Ramblin' Man by The Allman Brothers </b></i></p></p> My father raided all the shores of England<br> He wound up on the wrong end of a sheep<br> I was born in the stern of a longboat<br> Rolling on the waves of the North Sea.</p> Chorus<br> Thor, I am Bjorn, the Viking Man<br> I try to make a living by raiding where I can<br> So when your homes are burning I hope you understand<br> That I am Bjorn the Viking Man.</p> I'm sailing towards some foreign shore this morning<br> It doesn't really matter where I land<br> I'll steal their gold and burn their homes no matter who they are<br> Rape each girl and murder every man.</p> Chorus</p> I'm plundering a coastal town in Iceland<br> And drinking mead til I can drink no more<br> I'll sing along with a battle song between every mug<br> My belly full and my arms around a whore.</p> Chorus</p> Well someday I'll wind up in Valhalla<br> When in battle I am overcome<br> But until that day I'll sail away to rape, burn, and plunder<br> So all you puny weaklings better run!</p> Chorus (ad nauseaum)</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="17"> Black Widows in the Privy </p><font size=3> by Heather Rose Jones </b></i></p></p> Everyone knows someone we'd be better off without<br> But best not mention names for we know not who's about.<br> But why commit a murder and risk the fires of hell<br> When black widows in the privy can do it just as well.</p> Now poison's good, and daggers, and arrows in the back<br> And if you're really desperate you can try a front attack.<br> But are they really worth the risk of being caught<br> When black widows in the privy need not be bribed or bought?</p> So if there's one of whom wish most simply to be rid<br> Just wait 'til dark then point the way to where the widows hid<br> And say to them "I think you'll find that this one is the best",<br> And black widows in the privy will gladly do the rest.</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="18"> Blood Oath </p><font size=3> by Conn MacNeill </b></i></p></p> Chorus<br> Preachain, Preachain, for Clanne and for kinsmen,<br> Preachain, Preachain, to battle we go<br> Preachain, Preachain, for spears colored crimson,<br> Preachain, Preachain, it's blood for the oath!</p> There's a Clanne of bold temper, they're wild-eyed and clever,<br> Their war-yell a death-knell for many a foe.<br> The Morrigan's hammer, their song joyful clamor,<br> They're oath-bound for sword-ground to keep a grim oath.</p> Now the Senachal's spoken of a time long forgotten,<br> When word-sign was tongue-plied by beats as by man,<br> When the corn that they'd hoped for lay blighted and broken,<br> And the Crow-king on coal-wing came swift to the Clanne.</p> Chorus</p> We'll no corn be taking, if to join in oath-making,<br> You sword-swear no work-snare is set for the Crow.<br> It's battle we're needing, on flesh and blood feeding,<br> And red-gold to the sword-bold and their kinsmen will flow.</p> In these words was wisdom, they bound themselves in them,<br> A crow-sign or the war-line a token of faith.<br> They armed and took hire, employed sword and fire,<br> Took war-gear, gained word-fear and swept all away.</p> Chorus</p> From that time to this time, as spoken in fair rhyme,<br> Preachain and the crow-band keep the unbroken oath,<br> If you've stomach for warring than heed well my warning<br> To the sword-bold give the war-gold or your flesh to the Crow!</p> There's a Clanne of bold temper, they're wild-eyed and clever,<br> Their war-yell a death-knell for many a foe.<br> The Morrigan's hammer, their song joyful clamor,<br> They're oath-bound for sword-ground to keep a grim oath.</p> Chorus</p> </tr></td> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="19"> Bonny Mary of Argyle </p><font size=3> traditional </b></i></p></p> I have heard the mavis singing his love song to the morn <br> I have seen the dew-drop clinging to the rose just newly born<br> But a sweeter song has cheer'd me at the evening's gentle close<br> And I've seen an eye still brighter than the dew drop on the rose<br> 'Twas thy voice my gentle Mary and thine artless winning smile<br> That made the world an Eden, Bonny Mary of Argyle. </p> Though thy voice may lose its sweetness and thine eye its brightness too<br> Though thy step may lack its fleetness and thy hair its sunny hue<br> Still to me wilt thou be dearer than all the world shall won. <br> I have loved thee for thy beauty but not for that alone. <br> I have sought thy heart, dear Mary, and its goodness was the wile<br> That has made thee mine forever, Bonny Mary of Argyle. </p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="20"> The Border Lament </p><font size=3> traditional </b></i></p></p> My love he built me a bonnie bower <br> And clad it quite with lily flower<br> A lovlier bower you never did see, <br> Than my true love he built for me. </p> There came a man my middle day<br> He spied his sport, and went away<br> And brought the king that very night<br> Who broke my bower and slew my knight. </p> He slew my knight, to me so dear<br> He slew my knight and pined his gear<br> The servants all for life did flee<br> And left me in extremetie. </p> I took his body on my back<br> And while I went and while I convened<br> I dug a grave and laid him in<br> And sheltered him with the sod so green.</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="21"> The Brisk Young Butcher </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> Its of a brisk young butcher as I have heard them say <br> He started out of London town all on a certain day<br> Says he, "A frolic I will have my fortune for to try<br> I will go into Liestershire some cattle for to buy."</p> When he arrived at Leister town he stopped into an inn<br> He called forth a hosteler and boldly he walked in<br> He called for liquors of the best and being a rambling blade<br> He quickly fixed his eyes upon the lovely chambermaid.</p> Then she took up a candle to light him up to bed<br> And when she came into the room these words to her he said<br> "One sovereign I'll give to you all to enjoy your charms."<br> And this fair maid all night did sleep all in the butcher's arms.</p> 'Twas early the next morning he arose to go away<br> The landlord said, "Beg pardon, Sir, You have forgot to pay."<br> "Oh, no," the butcher did reply, "Pray do not think it strange<br> One sovereign I gave you maid, and I haven't got the change."</p> They straightway called the chambermaid and charged her with the same<br> The golden sovereign she lay down for fear she'd get the blame<br> The butcher he again went home well pleased with what was past<br> And soon this pretty chambermaid grew thick about the waist.</p> 'Twas in a twelvemonth after he came to town again<br> And then as he had done before he stopped at that same inn<br> 'Twas then the buxom chambermaid she chanced him for to see<br> She brought a babe just three months old and placed him on his knee.</p> The butcher sat like one amazed and at the child did stare<br> But when the joke he did fine out how he did stamp and swear<br> She said, "Kind Sir it is your own, pray do not think it strange <br> One sovereign you gave to me and here I've brought your change."</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="c"> <a name="22"> Cabin in the Woods </p><font size=3> by Sir Cipriano d'Alvarez<br> mka Guy L. Bradley </b></i></p></p> When I first joined the SCA about three years ago <br> I used to travel 'round everywhere every weekend or so.<br> My classes always made me late, I had to sleep where I could<br> And so it seemed I was always assigned to a cabin off in the woods.</p> Chorus <br> There were fourteen ladies and fourteen lords in sleeping bags on the floor.<br> There were three outside and four on the roof and one in a sling by the door.<br> There were ten kite shields and four hound dogs. We'd've fit five more if we could<br> Didn't get much sleep but we had a lot of fun in that cabin off in the woods.</p> I guess I really can't complain; I guess it's not that bad.<br> Everybody's got a tale to tell 'bout a cabin they once had<br> Like the lady who slept by the door who made our grumbling stop<br> "No matter how cramped you lords may be, at least you'll be on top!"</p> Chorus</p> Now six kings have come and gone, the autocrats know my name.<br> A heated cabin right by the hall, I know how to play that game.<br> But things seem so much different now. We don't have the fun that we should.<br> I'd trade that heater and my fold-up cot for that cabin off in the woods.</p> Chorus</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="23"> Calling on Song </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> Good people, pray heed our petition <br> Your attention we beg and we crave<br> And if you are inclined for to listen<br> And abundance of pastime we'll have. </p> We are come to relate many stories<br> Concerning our forefather's times<br> And we trust they will drive out your worries<br> Of this we are all in one mind.</p> Many tales of the poor and the gentry<br> Of labor and love will arise<br> There are no finer songs in this country<br> In Scotland and Ireland likewise.</p> There's one thing more needing mention<br> The dances we've danced all in fun<br> So now that you've heard our intention<br> We'll play on the beat of the drum.</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="24"> Carlough </p><font size=3> traditional </b></i></p></p> Bruce McTaggart, hold your face<br> Brooding over the old disgrace<br> That black FitzWilliam's stormed yer place,<br> Drove you to the fens!<br> Grey said, "Vicar, leave assured.<br> Soon the fire-byrne we'll secure."<br> Until he met at Glen Malure<br> With Feach MacHugh O'Burne!</p> Chorus</p> Curse and swear, Lord Kildare!<br> Feach will do as Feach will dare!<br> Now, Fits William have a care<br> Fallen is your star, lo!<br> Up with halberd, out with sword!<br> On we go, for by the Lord<br> Feach MacHugh has given the word:<br> "Follow me up to Carlough!"</p> See the swords at Glen Amough:<br> They're flashin' over the English Pale<br> See all the children of the Gael<br> Beneath O'Burne's banner!<br> Rooster of a fightin' stock<br> Would you let a Saxon cock<br> Crow out upon an Irish rock?<br> Fly up and teach him manners!</p> Chorus</p> From Tassangart to Claymore<br> There flows a stream of Saxon gore<br> We're great as Rory Og O'more<br> At sendin' the lions to Hades!<br> White is sick, Grey is fled,<br> Now for black FitzWilliam's head!<br> We'll send it over drippin' red<br> To Queen Liza and her ladies!</p> Chorus</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="25"> Celtic Ring of Fire </p><font size=3> by "Those Wacky Dahlradians"<br> filk: Ring of Fire, tune originally recorded by Johnny Cash </b></i></p></p> When Caesar came to Albion<br> He vowed to conquer all he saw.<br> We drove old Caesar form our shore<br> The legions muttered, "Nevermore!"</p> Chorus<br> He fell down into a Celtic ring of fire<br> He went down, down, down, but the flames leapt higher!<br> And he burned, burned burned, that Roman tyrant,<br> That Roman tyrant!</p> A Roman in a wickerman<br> Scrams like only Romans can<br> We danced around his funeral pyre<br> We gave him to the God of Fire!</p> Chorus</p> When smashing down the walls of Rome<br> Brennus drove his lesson home!<br> "Woe to the vanquished" was his word!<br> Upon the scales, he threw his sword.</p> Chorus</p> When Boudicca did lead the clannes<br> They slaughtered Romans in the glens<br> She chose to die upon her feet<br> Than live like Romans on their knees!</p> Chorus</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="26"> The Chastity Belt </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> O say, gentle maiden, may I be your lover? <br> Condemn me no longer to mourn and to weep! <br> Cut down like a hart, I lie wounded and fainting<br> Let down your drawbridge, I'll enter your keep. </p> Enter your keep, nonny, nonny <br> Enter your keep, nonny, nonny<br> Let down your drawbridge, I'll enter your keep.</p> Alas, gentle errant, I am not a maiden. <br> He's caged me in armor, that cunning old Celt! <br> He's off to the wars for a twelve-month or longer<br> And taken the key to my chastity belt.</p> Taken the key, nonny, nonny <br> Taken the key, nonny, nonny<br> And taken the key to my chastity belt.</p> Fear not, gentle maiden, for I know a locksmith<br> To his forge we will go, at his door we will knock. <br> To try and avail of his specialized knowledge<br> And see if he's able to unpick your lock. </p> Unpick your lock, nonny, nonny<br> Unpick your lock, nonny, nonny<br> And see if he's able to unpick your lock.</p> "Alas, Sir and Madame, to help I'm unable.<br> My technical knowledge is of no avail. <br> I can't find the secret of your combination; <br> The cunning old bastard has fitted a Yale! </p> Fitted a Yale, nonny, nonny <br> Fitted a Yale, nonny, nonny <br> The cunning old bastard has fitted a Yale!</p> The knight's squire returned with sad news of disaster. <br> "A terrible mishap I have to confide: <br> As our ship was passing the Straits of Gibraltar<br> The knight and the key, they went over the side.</p> Over the side, nonny, nonny <br> Over the side, nonny, nonny <br> The knight and the key, they went over the side."</p> Alas and Alack! I am locked up forever! <br> But up spoke a blacksmith, saying "Leave it to me." <br> "'Twas I forged your belt, I forged the key also<br> And as a precaution I've copies made three:<br> One for his Lordship, one for the High Priest<br> But only one fits and I kept that for me. </p> Kept that for me, nonny, nonny <br> Kept that for me, nonny, nonny<br> But only one fits and I kept that for me.</p> </td></tr> <tr><td width=100% colspan=2 height=50><font size=4><a href="#top"><b><i><center>Back to top</a></b></i></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% align="center"><img src="tablebar2.gif" height=25 width=100%></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 width=100% height=50></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=4 c