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 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="26b"> The Chortle </p><font size=3> by Gunnar Redbeard<br> ©1988 by R.A. Boyd </b></i></p></p> Twas the morning after the night before a scene sublime and rare.<br> Wherever I looked in corner and nook lay bodies everywhere!<br> The noble, the meek, the Baron and all lay huddled on the floor<br> With a chorus of moans and sighs and groans as if we'd lost a war!</p> I feel no disgrace to follow my tastes amid the feast and cheer.<br> Nor does it distract to scoff at the fact I touch not wine nor beer.<br> I sip on my Coke and laugh at their jokes, the butt of fun to some,<br> And angered not as they fell down besot; the dawn has yet to come!</p> The morning begins, the night's jovial friends wallow in their sorrow.<br> And I bid each one a hearty "Good Morn!" (I'll hate myself tomorrow!)<br> I am avenged as they stumble and cringe in agony sublime.<br> Twas the morning after the night before and <i>my</i> head feels just fine!</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="27"> Circles </p><font size=3> By Gwen Zak <br> Filk: Windmills </b></i></p></p> In days gone by, when the world was much younger<br> Men wondered at spring, born of winter's cold strife<br> Wondered at the games of the moon and the Sunlight,<br> They saw there the Lady and Lord of all life.</p> Chorus<br> And around and around and around turns the good Earth<br> All things must change as the seasons go by <br> We are the children of the Lord and the Lady<br> Whose mysteries we know, but we'll never know why.</p> In all lands the people were tied with the good Earth<br> Plowing and sowing as the seasons declared<br> Waiting to reap of the rich golden harvest<br> Knowing her laugh in the joys that they shared.</p> Chorus</p> Through Flanders and Wales and the green land of Ireland<br> In kingdoms of England and Scotland and Spain<br> Circles grew up all along the wild coastline<br> And worked for the land with the sun and the rain.</p> Chorus</p> Circles for healing and working the weather<br> Circles for knowing the Moon and the Sun<br> Circles for thanking the Lord and the Lady<br> Circles for dancing the dance never done.</p> Chorus</p> And we who reach for the stars in the heavens<br> Turning our eyes from the meadows and groves<br> Still live in the love of the Lord and the Lady<br> The greater the Circle, the more the love grows.</p> Chorus<br> 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="28"> Closer to Daylight </p><font size=3> by Ceara ni Neill, ©1999<br> filk: Closer to Eleven by Lyra and Rael of Preachain<br> filk: Closer to Fine by the Indigo Girls </b></i></p></p> We traveled to the Fool's War of Meridies<br> With many bottles of good brew<br> And the meat of Ailsun's deer<br> Pop Chiv said the party would be a big one.<br> So we set out with our mugs to have much fun<br> This was war practice, after all.<br> Yeah..right.</p> Into our camp came friends from the Consortium.<br> With good songs & good cheer within their hearts<br> Then the Period Police appeared to wreck our campin'<br> But Lord Uilleagh chased them off with his "O Narseman"<br> He is Spearcatcher, after all.</p> Chorus<br> We started at our camp<br> And moved on to their camp<br> And everywhere we reveled<br> We raised the noise level<br> And the more I think about it and look back in time,<br> I wish that I had brought more wine.<br> And I must keep an eye on the time,<br> The closer it gets to daylight. <br> The closer it gets to daylight.</p> I need to seek the Herald of Meridies<br> And bring to Baron Hywel my tales of woe<br> I tried to get my name passed<br> And sent in my device<br> They get shot down with comments that are not nice<br> But it's only paper after all.<br> And I must submit it til I get it right, <br> The closer it gets to daylight.</p> Sir Bryce stumbled by the fire at 3 am<br> To seek solace in Drambouie and to drum with some good friends<br> A dancer lost a tassel, it got stuck in Gryffri's ear<br> I went over to him and said, "Have a beer,<br> Hips do project things after all."</p> Chorus</p> Lord Malcolm and Sir Theatyn soon joined us<br> Sir Fiachna told us legends of the Yam.<br> Someone said "potato",<br> Then he said "po-tah-to".<br> And then the knight caught Malcolm drinking beer, <br> So he bade us all goodnight.</p><br> 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="29"> Cois na Teineadh </p><font size=3> by T.W. Rolleston </b></i></p></p> Where glows the Irish hearth with peat<br> There lives a subtle spell...<br> The faint blue smoke, the gentle heat,<br> The moorland odours tell</p> Of white roads winking by the edge<br> Of bare, untamed land,<br> Where dry stone wall of ragged hedge<br> Runs wide on either hand.</p> To cottage lights that lure you in<br> From rainy Western skies;<br> And by the friendly glow within<br> Of simple talk, and wise,</p> And tales of magic, love or arms<br> From days when princes met<br> Too listen to the lay that charms<br> The Connacht peasant yet,</p> There honour shines though passions dire,<br> There beauty blends with mirth--<br> Wild hearts, ye never did aspire <br> Wholly for things of earth!</p> Cold, cold this thousand years-- yet still<br> On many a time-stained page<br> Your pride, your truth, your dauntless will,<br> Burn on from age to age,</p> And still around the fires of peat<br> Live on the ancient days;<br> There still do living lips repeat<br> The old and deathless days.</p> And when the wavering wreaths ascend <br> Blue in the evening air,<br> The soul of Ireland seems to bend <br> Above her children there. </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="30"> Come, Follow, Follow </p><font size=3> by John Hilton, 1596-1657 </b></i></p></p> Come, follow, follow, follow, follow, follow, follow me.<br> Whither shall I follow, follow, follow,<br> Whither shall I follow, follow thee?<br> To the greenwood, greenwood tree.</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="31"> Come Share the Dream </p><font size=3> Lyrics by Sieglinde Syr<br> Music by Sieglinde Syr and Iolo Fits Owen </b></i></p></p> Listen! The laurel branches sing, <br> The wind gives life thus to the song. <br> Knighthood's flower breathes once more,<br> Born and bloomed a-maying. </p> And on a spring wind it has flown<br> From sea to sea these twenty years<br> Seedlings of the dream have sown<br> Ten, to the fullest glory grown. </p> We who are here have heard<br> The voice calling from bygone days<br> "Come share the dream, come live the legends, <br> Relearn the ancient ways." </p> Chorus<br> Come, share the dream, come hold it in your hands<br> As it might once have been<br> Come live the legends that will never die<br> Through us they live again. </p> Reaching through time, their touch is real<br> Upon the road of glory anon<br> Side by side we ride with kings<br> Bards shall sing our stories </p> Tales are remembered skills not lost<br> As it once was it shall be again<br> And through us our children will know<br> Of the greatness long ago. </p> Each springs rebirth shall be the time<br> When time its pace would sow<br> And for a moment take us once more<br> Into the days of yore. </p> Chorus </p> Those who began it here join hands<br> With those for whom the magic is new<br> And cast its spell a siren's song<br> Calls us all to follow. </p> Heed it we will and follow still ideals<br> Born of fire and sword<br> Born these twenty years ago<br> Where mist and wind the laurels blow. </p> And to our shores and mountains<br> And plains carry the living dream<br> As it once was it has been again; <br> Chivalry lives, my friend. </p> Chorus <br> Chivalry lives, my friend. </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="32"> The Coming of Spring </p><font size=3> by Lord Thomas Bordeaux </b></i></p></p> Give me a song, give me rhythm and rhyme<br> Find the warmth of the sun in the circle of time<br> Breathe new life to the trees from the heavens above<br> On the cries of an infant, on the wings of a dove. </p> Chorus<br> And we'll sing hallelujah, hallelujah<br> Oh for the coming of spring!<br> And we'll sing hallelujah, hallelujah<br> Oh for the coming of spring!</p> Fill the forest with laughter, the heavens with light<br> For a warm moonlit evening filled with lover's delight<br> Fill the fields with flowers in colors that please<br> For all the gods, children take comfort in these.</p> Chorus</p> Let the farmer's prepare all their fields to sow<br> Set the flocks out to pasture where the sweet clover grows<br> As the world makes it's turning in darkness and light<br> A new day waits beginning on the edge of the night.</p> Chorus</p> Take heart you good gentles and warriors so bold<br> Know that winter will end as is always foretold<br> Don't despair for the spring though it's winter's dark night<br> For it's spring in your hearts though it's winter outside.</p> Chorus<br> 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="33"> The Crafty Maid's Policy </p><font size=3> author </b></i></p></p> Come listen awhile and I'll sing you a song <br> Of three merry gentlemen riding along<br> They met a fair maid and to her did say<br> "We re afraid this cold morning will do you some harm."</p> "Oh, no, kind sir," said the maid, "You re mistaken<br> To think this cold morning will do me some harm.<br> There's one thing I crave which lies twixt your legs.<br> If you give me that, it will keep me warm."</p> Then since you do crave it, my dear, you shall have it<br> If you'll come with me to yonder green tree;<br> Then since you do crave it, my dear you shall have it<br> I'll make these two gentlemen witness to be.</p> So the gentleman lighted and straightway she mounted<br> And looking the gentleman hard in the face<br> Saying, "You knew not my meaning, you wrong understood me."<br> And away she went galloping down the long lane.</p> "Oh, gentlemen, lend me one of your horses<br> That I may ride after her down the long lane<br> If I overtake her, I' warrant I'll make her <br> Return unto me my own horse again."</p> But soon did this fair maid she saw him a-coming<br> She instantly then took a pistol in hand<br> Saying, "Doubt not my skill that you I would kill<br> I'll have you stand back or you are a dead man."</p> "Oh why do you spend you time here in talking?<br> Oh, why do you spend you time here in pain?<br> Come, give her a guinea, it's what she deserves<br> And I warrant she'll give you your horse back again."</p> "Oh, no, kind sir, you're badly mistaken<br> If this is his loss, well, this is my gain<br> And you were a witness that he gave it to me."<br> And away she went galloping down the long lane. </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="34"> Crusader's Song </p><font size=3> By: Duke Conn McNeill </b></i></p></p> Chorus<br> I'm for the Holy Land sailing, <br> To win back Jerusalem's walls<br> I'm for the Holy Land sailing, <br> And I'll win my fortune or a martyr I'll fall. </p> As my ship sails out I watch the far coastline,<br> Leaving my kinsman my heart is full pained<br> I've traded all for the cross at my shoulder, <br> No land for a third son so I'm away</p> Chorus </p> As I look around me at the men on the benches, <br> Their eyes are like mine so I know their hearts pain<br> I sing them a song of bravery and battle, <br> Now their eyes shine like the keen polished blade</p> Chorus <br> We're for the Holy Land sailing, <br> To win back Jerusalem's walls<br> We're for the Holy Land sailing, <br> And we'll win our fortune or as martyrs we'll fall</p> I followed King Richard to Sicily island, <br> Joanna's dowry against Tancred prevailed<br> Now a fortune in silver, a new wife hath Richard, <br> I've a swift horse and a fine coat of maile</p> Chorus </p> At landfall in Cypress they refused Berengaria, <br> Richard in anger has answered in steel<br> Now the crown of Cypress he's added to England's, <br> I've added knighthood's gold spurs to my heels</p> Chorus </p> I followed the banner to battle at Targrin, <br> Held it aloft when it's bearer was slain<br> We've given Richard a tower o'er the city, <br> He's given me rank and a full captain's pay</p> Chorus </p> On the coastline at Tarsus we met with the Paynim,<br> We won the battle though many men fell<br> One was a baron with lands that need tending, <br> Now they are mine and I'll tend them well</p> Chorus </p> Now I sit in court over Christian and Muslim,<br> I've a strong keep and soldiers ten score<br> King Richard's army has sailed back to England, <br> I've said farewell for I'll see them nay more </p> You see <br> I'm in the Holy Land staying; to guard my own castle walls <br> I'm in the Holy Land staying, I've won my fortune so farewell to all.</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="d"> <a name="35"> The Day the Table Died </p><font size=3> filk: American Pie, by Don McClean </b></i></p></p> 'Twas so long ago, but I still remember<br> How the legends used to make me smile...<br> And I knew given half a chance<br> I'd kill so many with my lance, <br> And maybe I'd be famous for a while. </p> So death and bloodshed I'd deliver, <br> With every arrow from my quiver.<br> All this bloody hassle, <br> Just to defend one castle! </p> I remember how he shed a tear <br> When he learned of Lance and Guenivere<br> And something touched me way down here,<br> The day the Table died. </p> Chorus <br> Hail, hail, to the fellas in mail! <br> Slaying dragons, saving damsels, chasing after the Grail. <br> We fought off evil, til our faces were pale<br> Wondering if there was a chance we might fail, <br> Could there be a chance we might fail?</p> Hast thou read the Book of Merlin,<br> With its stories that Sir Rod of Serling<br> Could have penned for the Twilight Zone?<br> Dost thou believe in legend'ry,<br> And all the tales of chivalry<br> Like the one about the Longsword and the Stone?</p> Well, Lancelot came from Par-ee<br> To serve in Arthur's calvary<br> He sweated off his tail, to wear the royal mail.<br> When Lance had won his confidence <br> He met Queen Guenivere by chance<br> And melted down his iron pants<br> The day the Table died.</p> For several years, Lance and the Queen<br> Had kept their meetings clandestine<br> Finding ways to be alone. <br> 'Twas on a fateful summer's day<br> When Mordred found them in the hay<br> And the Frenchman knew his cover had been blown.</p> Arthur cried, "Swear by Excalibur,<br> That you truly did not lie with her!"<br> The notion was absurd. <br> Lance said not a word.</p> And so the knight, no longer chaste, <br> Unto his native soil he raced<br> Left Guenivere alone to face <br> The day the Table died.</p> Chorus </p> Convicted of a grave offense<br> By Mordred's damning evidence, <br> Guenivere was set to burn. <br> Arthur loathed his bastard son<br> For all his work had been undone<br> But he vowed the tables would be turned. </p> Having Lance arrive to save the day<br> He carried Guenivere away<br> The king was so relieved. <br> His true love was reprieved! </p> Then Guenivere became a nun <br> And Lancelot had no more fun<br> And Mordred soon was on the run<br> The day the Table died. </p> Chorus </p> I stand guard at this castle door, <br> Though Arthur reigns not anymore<br> Camelot's a memory.</p> It does my heart good to recall<br> The mighty kingdom's rise and fall<br> And the space it occupies in history.</p> The spirit of those days, it seems, <br> Continues only in our dreams<br> For there we can enjoy it; <br> Let no one dare destroy it!</p> One prophecy of days of yore<br> Says Arthur shall arise once more<br> To make all as it was before <br> The day the Table died.</p> Chorus<br> 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="36"> Do Virgins Taste Better </p><font size=3> by R. Farran<br> filk: The Irish Washerwoman </b></i></p></p> A dragon has come to our village today. <br> We've asked him to leave, but he won't go away.<br> Now he's talked to our king and they worked our a deal:<br> No more homes will he burn and no crops will he steal.</p> Now there is but one catch, we dislike it a bunch:<br> Twice a year he invites him a virgin to lunch.<br> Well, we've no other choice, so the deal we'll respect,<br> But we can't help but wonder and pause to reflect:</p> Chorus<br> Do virgins taste better than those who are not?<br> Are they salty, or sweeter, more juicy or what?<br> Do you savor them slowly? Gulp them down on the spot?<br> Do virgins taste better than those who are not?</p> Now we'd like to be shed you, and many have tried<br> But no one can get though your thick, scaly hide.<br> We hope that some day, some brave knight will come by,<br> 'Cause we can't wait around 'til you're too fat to fly.</p> Now you have such good taste in your women for sure,<br> They always are pretty, they always are pure.<br> But your notion of dining, it makes us all flinch<br> For your favorite entree is barbecued wench.</p> Chorus</p> Now we've found a solution, it works out so neat,<br> If you insist on nothing but virgins to eat.<br> No more will our number ever grow small,<br> We'll simply make sure there's no virgins at all!</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="37"> Dragon Road </p><font size=3> by Sir Cipriano d'Alvarez<br> mka Guy Bradley </b></i></p></p> It was on the first of August, out of Aronmerray,<br> Half a dozen horses and a wagon load of hay<br> There had been a party, hangovers galore<br> Our clerics were unconscious and our fighters saddle-sore.</p> Chorus<br> And there were dragons, dragons, flying o'er the road, <br> Wyverns all around us and behind us yellow mold <br> And there were orcses, orcses, filling all the wood<br> They all jumped upon us because we were lawful good.</p> We were not discouraged. We were set to fight<br> But we had drunk ten gallons of the finest mead that night!<br> Sir Morris was disheveled, Sir Percy was the same <br> And the elf who traveled with us was too drunk to know his name.</p> Chorus</p> The dragons got the horses, the orcs got even more<br> And chewing on our wagon was an ugly manticore.<br> We finally woke our wizard, he would make them pay<br> But he rally pulled a boner when he mumbled spells that day.</p> Chorus</p> His fireball misfired, his lightning missed the mark<br> And then the party found itself encased in total dark<br> He tried to polymorph them, that dirty ancient louse<br> And we did not think it funny when Sir Kay became a mouse.</p> Chorus</p> Our fighters bravely battled, but it was all for nought<br> 'Cause we had not the measure of the monsters that we fought<br> T'was our bard who finally saved us, for he could do no wrong<br> And he really had them running when he belted out this song!</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="38"> Duck Tape Documentation </p><font size=3> by Ceara ni Neill<br> mka Alexandria Long </b></i></p></p> No one knows for certain the exact date that duck tape was invented, but archeological finds of Bronze-Age artifacts have proven that is has been around much longer than originally thought.</p> It is surmised that the early people of Gaul wove the sinews of ducks into long ribbons, which turned to a dull gray when cured. Sometimes the sinews were dyed with woad and woven into a plaid. One side was brushed with a sticky paste made from fish scales, producing the ancestor of our modern Duck Tape.</p> As it is today, Duck tape was used for everything and was as valuable and commonplace as ale or mead. So to those who would make use of this wonderful stuff, be ye not reluctant and rest your conscience. Of course it's period!</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="e"> <a name="39"> Early Mournin' Dew </p><font size=3> by Mary Taran of Glastobury<br> filk: Leavin' on a Jet Plane </b></i></p></p> Oh, your shield is hacked from many a blow, <br> I'm standing here, though you don't know, <br> I hate to wake you up to see you die.<br> But the shield wall is breaking, it's battered and torn,<br> The herald's calling , he's blowing his horn<br> Already I am mournin' for your hide.</p> Chorus<br> So wake up and fight for me, <br> Tell me that you'll die for me.<br> Hurry and get armored up and go.<br> You'll go out there and get slain.<br> I don't know if you will fight again.<br> Oh, my lord, you have to go.</p> There's so many times they've knocked you down,<br> So many times you've lost a round,<br> I tell you now, they don't mean a thing.<br> Every battered helm is worn by you. <br> Every mace they swing, they swing at you.<br> If you come back, I'll mend your chain mail rings.</p> Chorus</p> Now the time has come to wake you<br> One more time must I shake you<br> You soon will be deep within the fray.<br> Think about the days to come <br> While you go out there all alone,<br> About the time I won't have to say:</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="40"> English Vice </p><font size=3> By Mary Spencer<br> Filk: Edewiss (from "The Sound of Music") </b></i></p></p> English vice, English vice<br> Ropes and chains are my playthings<br> Nipple clips, canes and whips<br> Bring the pain that I beg for </p> Leather and latex are my delight<br> My delight and pleasure. <br> English vice, English vice<br> Whip and beat me forever!</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="f"> <a name="41"> Faire Opening, Faire Closing </p><font size=3> used at the California Renaissance Faire </b></i></p></p></td></tr> <tr><td width=50%><font size=3 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"> <b>Faire Opening</b></p> Awake! Awake! The day doth break<br> Good craftsmen open your stalls<br> come greet the light<br> Shake off the night<br> The faire is open to all!</p> </td><td width=50%><font size=3 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"> <b>Faire Closing</b></p> Good craftsmen rest your weary voices<br> Put your wares away<br> Good travelers make your final choices<br> Come not the end of the day<br> As the daylight dies like a rose<br> The faire must come to a close<br> As the sun deserts the sky <br> We bid you good people good-bye.</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="42"> The Fairy s Love Song </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> Chorus <br> Why should I sit and sigh<br> Pulling bracken, pulling bracken?<br> Why should I sit and sigh<br> On a hillside dreary?</p> When I see the plover* rising<br> Or the curfew* wheeling<br> Then I know my mortal lover<br> Back to me is stealing.</p> Chorus</p> Ah, but there is something wanting;<br> Oh but I am weary!<br> Come by, blithe and bonny laddie,<br> O er the knoll to cheer me.</p> Chorus</p> <i>*plover: a bird, related to the sandpiper.<br> *curfew: a bird, related to the woodcock.</i> </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="43"> The Favor </p><font size=3> by Ceara ni Neill <br> mka Alexandria Long <br> filk: Rossann nel Coir (recorded by Scartaglen) </b></i></p></p> Ireland's sun is shining today<br> But my heart does not bask in it's rays<br> For my lover has gone off to battle<br> And he carried the favor of fair Faye.</p> Promised he me never to leave, <br> But to steal his heart Faye did achieve<br> Now he leaves me, alone, to my own fate<br> Since for her my love he did betray.</p> Come they, come they, suitors aplenty; <br> I send, I send them away<br> For my lover, he's gone into battle,<br> Though he carried the favor of fair Faye.</p> Ireland's sun is shining today, <br> But my heart does not bask in its rays.<br> For my brothers have gone into battle<br> For to gain my honor thrown away.</p> And I went to the battlefield today<br> And from his belt, pulled the favor of fair Faye.</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="44"> Folk o' the Plaid </p><font size=3> traditional </b></i></p></p> Ken ye the heart of the folk o' the plaid<br> Wonder as many of what they are made?<br> For they're hard as the highlands and cold as Loch Sloy<br> Scots hae a spirit tha' nay can destroy.</p> Chorus<br> And it's hey to the highlands, hello to the low<br> If ye leave a Scot breathin', he'll strike the last blow<br> As the English Chieftain so angrily knows, <br> A thistle bows not to the rose, a thistle bows not to the rose.</p> Born in the damp winds and raised in the hills<br> Those who reach manhood have iron-like wills<br> For the weavers and the rovers and the brigands, it's known<br> A Scotsman looks after his own, a Scotsman looks after his own.</p> Chorus</p> Now french ladies charm with their glances and sighs<br> But give me a lassie with fire in her eyes.<br> Aye, Scots girls are fiery, they're long, and they're lean,<br> Sharper of wit than a dirk it is keen.</p> Now lovin' the women's like juggling with knives; <br> Too many at once and they'll look to your lies.<br> Find ye but one lass and stay to her true<br> She'll fight at your back and share all that you do.</p> Chorus</p> Now some call us heartless and callous and cruel<br> But a Scot's a survivor and nobody's fool.<br> We've wagered though the ages of hardship and strife<br> Sometimes it takes a hard man to lead a hard life.</p> So we'll pipe 'til the blood sings, and we'll drink liquid fire<br> Watch where ye tread lest ye risk Scottish ire<br> Hark ye the words of the MacKintosh Clan<br> Touch not the cat without a gloved hand.</p> Chorus<br> 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="45"> Fop Hunt </p><font size=3> by Lyra and Rael<br> filk: Moondance </b></i></p></p> It's a marvelous night for a fop hunt<br> All their lace in the moonlight will glow.<br> A fantabulous night to make fops run <br> Through the barbed wire fences so low.</p> And all their blood will be flowin' <br> When I sever their heads!<br> You know they won't be goin' <br> 'Cause they'll be dead...oh, so dead!</p> Chorus<br> Can we just have one more fop hunt, Danu, tonight?<br> Can we just make some more fops run, Danu, tonight?</p> Well I wanna take heads with you tonight,<br> I can't wait for the mornin' to come.<br> And I know if I hold my spear just right,<br> Then straight into the point fops will run.</p> And all their spleens will be ruptured <br> And their entrails will flow<br> I'll slash their femoral arteries<br> Then they'll run really slow!</p> Chorus</p> Well I'm walkin' around with a fop's head<br> With his testicles shoved up his nose<br> And I know I'll complete my collection <br> With the rest of our buttery-butt foes</p> And every time I kill one <br> I just tremble and shake<br> You know it feels so good <br> To put their head on a stake!</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="46"> The Forth Castle Chronicle </p><font size=3> by Ceara ni Neill<br> mka Alexandria Long </b></i></p></p> Good day, miladies and milords, of this you may not know<br> A story of Forth Castle and some folks that you may know. <br> Aye, o'er the river and through the woods to Forth Castle we go<br> We'll fight all day with furniture and wear our funny clothes!</p> Chorus <br> Oh, fie diddley die and fie diddley dee<br> Oh come along, enjoy our southern hospitality! </p> The ladies they will bake all day, and sit and sew and knit <br> For gossip is a bardic art with no equivalent. <br> The men they boldly swagger 'round and boast of maidens laid,<br> Until their wives remind them that the children are up late.</p> The children they run rampant while Daddy's off at war<br> When he returns home weary, then they beat him with his sword.<br> Follow me now, if you will for if you'll come and see<br> We'll drink our ale and shout, "VIVAT! This 'tis the life for me!" </p> Chorus</p> Now listen to me carefully, I'll sing a little yarn. <br> Lest harm it should befall you come and meet me 'round the barn; <br> We'll rob you of your weapons, your horses and your gold <br> Let Donald tell his jokes to you for they are stale and old!<br> Lord Erich von dem Schwartzwald was a large and stately man<br> He'd breathe his charm and have the ladies eating from his hand.<br> Oh, Katherine was his Lady, a mistress of the feast. <br> She'd cook her little (ahem!) arse off with the vengeance of a beast!</p> Chorus</p> Lord Walter built our armory with knowledge of the mead<br> Damn him, he's gone! We can't brew 'nough to satisfy our need!<br> Lady Catriona was his wife, and oh, so sweet! <br> Since they've been gone they've landed in a Western Baron's seat.</p> Lady Bronwyn was a pretty lass, though perhaps too prone to lush<br> But wear ye not a kilt near her for she is sure to blush!<br> And Chrys would be a ladies'man, but we are not to know: <br> When faced with woman and a book, the wench was first to go!</p> Chorus</p> Another asset of our shire is fine Lord Perigryne.<br> Twas he the first of ours to squire-- you should have seen him grin!<br> His Lady, wife Dennet she wrapped the belt around his girth.<br> That day a hundred cannons could not bring him down to Earth!</p> And Lord Artan MacDarragh is a mighty man to fold. <br> He'll welcome kilt checks frequently, then blame it on the cold.<br> 'Tis all the story that I know; I'm sure there's more to tell,<br> But if you want to know more you must partake of our ale. </p> Chorus </p> Aye, come along with me, I say, I trow you'll not forget<br> The wondrous time you've had with us<br> (Though you may not admit!) <br> But if you are disgusted and you can take no more, <br> Ne'er mind us, for we're drunk again and lying on the floor!</p> Chorus</p> Aye, drink with us and nurture with our grain vitality!</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="47"> Four Blind Mice </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> Four blind mice are dead<br> Four blind mice are dead<br> See how they lie<br> See how they lie<br> Four dead bodies on the ground<br> Four dead bodies on the ground<br> Poor dead mice<br> Poor dead mice</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="48"> Four Drunken Maidens </p><font size=3> traditional English </b></i></p></p> There were three drunken maidens, come from the Isle of Wight <br> They drunk from Monday morning non-stop 'til Saturday night<br> When Saturday night came 'round me boys, they would not then go out<br> These three drunken maidens, they pushed the jug about. </p> Then up come handsome Sally, her cheeks as red as bloom<br> Move up me jolly sisters, and give young Sally room!<br> For I'll be your equal before we ten go out<br> These four drunken maidens they pushed the jug about. </p> There's woodcock and pheasant, there's partridge and hare.<br> There's all sorts of dainties, no scarcity was there.<br> There's forty quarts of beer me boys, they fairly drunk them out<br> These four drunken maidens, they pushed the jug about. </p> Then up come the landlord, he's asking for his pay<br> It's a forty pound bill, me boys, these girls have got to pay<br> That's ten pounds apiece, me boys, but still they wouldn't go out!<br> These four drunken maidens, they pushed the jug about. </p> Oh where are your feathered hats, your mantles rich and fine?<br> They've all been swallowed up in tankards of good wine.<br> And where are your maidenheads, you maidens brisk and gay?<br> We left them in the alehouse, we drunk them clear away!</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="49"> The Froggy Song </p><font size=3> by Ceara ni Neill<br> mka Alexandria Long </b></i></p></p> When I was a young lass of fourteen and two,<br> I went to a witch who could tell fortunes true. <br> But I swear that that witch cast a spell upon me<br> For since then I've only eyes for men slimy green.</p> Chorus<br> Someday I will find my true horny-toad.<br> My kiss will change him to a fine, handsome rogue<br> But with my luck, he'll love me and leave me to be<br> A-lookin' for another frog to kiss and marry me. </p> I hear a frog croaking near yonder deep pond. <br> His voice is so deep, it makes my heart grow fond!<br> Perhaps he's a large toad with back spotted brown; <br> He'll change to a fine prince with hair to the ground!</p> Chorus</p> "Come to me, sweet Ceara," he croaked with a smile. <br> "Aye, here lass, sit by me and chat for a while.<br> I'll tell you a story, you'll sing me a song.<br> We'll frolic together 'til dusk becomes dawn!" </p> "I hear thee, dear Toadie, but what if I do? <br> Perhaps there's no spell and your words are untrue."<br> "Then kiss me, I beg of you, for I know well<br> To regret today is better than no story to tell."</p> Chorus</p> With eyes closed, my lips touched his skin, damp and cold;<br> I feared of the warts of which I had been told.<br> But my wondering eyes opened to find such a treat<br> A stately, tall, and handsome prince with perfect webbed feet!</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="g"> <a name="50"> The Gentry Are Sleeping </p><font size=3> Also known as The Hospitaller's Song<br> filk: When Johnny Comes Marching Home </b></i></p></p> The Gentry are sleeping, one by one, Oyez, Oyez <br> The Gentry are sleeping, one by one, Oyez, Oyez<br> The Gentry are sleeping, one by one,<br> And no one is having very much fun<br> And the Gentry are sleeping anywhere they can.</p> The Gentry are sleeping, two by two, Oyez, Oyez<br> The Gentry are sleeping, two by two, Oyez, Oyez<br> The Gentry are sleeping, two by two, <br> It's a terribly period thing to do.<br> And the Gentry are sleeping anywhere they can.</p> The Gentry are sleeping, three by three, Oyez, Oyez<br> The Gentry are sleeping, three by three, Oyez, Oyez<br> The Gentry are sleeping, three by three, <br> I think that's my hand on my knee.<br> And the Gentry are sleeping anywhere they can.</p> The Gentry are sleeping, four by four, Oyez, Oyez<br> The Gentry are sleeping, four by four, Oyez, Oyez<br> The Gentry are sleeping, four by four, <br> On the bed and on the floor<br> And the Gentry are sleeping anywhere they can.</p> The Gentry are sleeping, five by five, Oyez, Oyez<br> The Gentry are sleeping, five by five, Oyez, Oyez<br> The Gentry are sleeping, five by five, <br> With everybody except their wives<br> And the Gentry are sleeping anywhere they can.</p> The Gentry are sleeping, six by six, Oyez, Oyez<br> The Gentry are sleeping, six by six, Oyez, Oyez<br> The Gentry are sleeping, six by six, <br> With (insert name) up (his/her) usual tricks<br> And the Gentry are sleeping anywhere they can.</p> The Gentry are sleeping, seven by seven, Oyez, Oyez<br> The Gentry are sleeping, seven by seven, Oyez, Oyez<br> The Gentry are sleeping, seven by seven, <br> I think I've died and gone to heaven.<br> And the Gentry are sleeping anywhere they can.</p> The Gentry are sleeping, eight by eight, Oyez, Oyez<br> The Gentry are sleeping, eight by eight, Oyez, Oyez<br> The Gentry are sleeping, eight by eight, <br> Hurry up (insert name) or you'll be late.<br> And the Gentry are sleeping anywhere they can.</p> The Gentry are sleeping, nine by nine, Oyez, Oyez<br> The Gentry are sleeping, nine by nine, Oyez, Oyez<br> The Gentry are sleeping, nine by nine, <br> I don't know, it must be the wine<br> And the Gentry are sleeping anywhere they can.</p> The Gentry are sleeping, ten by ten, Oyez, Oyez<br> The Gentry are sleeping, ten by ten, Oyez, Oyez<br> The Gentry are sleeping, ten by ten, <br> No one's asleep and it's morning again.<br> And the Gentry are sleeping anywhere they can.</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="51"> Get Me to the Site on Time </p><font size=3> Filk: Get Me to the Church on Time (from "My Fair Lady") </b></i></p></p> I've got a tourney in the morning<br> I'll meet other fighters in their prime.<br> I'll take the field<br> With sword axe and shield<br> Just get me to the site on time. </p> I've got a mission in the morning<br> Bang heads together 'til they chime.<br> I've oiled my curaisses<br> Been to fighter practice<br> Now get me to the site on time! </p> If I am sleeping, don't let me snore<br> If I've been drinking, pick me off the floor!</p> The arts competition's in the morning,<br> My entry's really looking fine.<br> Beautifully presented<br> And well-documented<br> Now get me to the site on time. </p> I'm well provisioned for the morning,<br> Packed up and ready for the climb.<br> Supplies are in good shape <br> Maps, beer, and duct tape<br> Now get me to the site on time. </p> If I am sleeping, don't let me snore<br> If I've been wenching, kick them out of the door!</p> I'm leaving early in the morning<br> Even before the sun will shine.<br> I'll get there (I'm hopin')<br> Before the list opens<br> So get me to the site<br> I'm gonna drive all night<br> For God's sake get me to the site on time! </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="52"> Gilda and the Dragon </p><font size=3> by Cynthia McQuillin </b></i></p></p> Sir Loren undertook a quest, the maiden Gilda seeking.<br> He found her in a dragon's bed, from 'neath the covers peeking.<br> "What seek you here, Sir Loren dear?" the dragon asked with guile.<br> The noble knight could not but note the dragon's sated smile.</p> "Why smilest thou, Lord Dragon, sir?" asked our hero in armor laden? <br> "Why, you'd smile too," the worm replied, "if you'd just eaten a maiden."</p> "Such candor," this young lordling cried, "must touch upon dishonor!"<br> The dragon grinned his lecherous grin and once more was upon her. <br> "Cease and desist!" Sir Loren cried, his fine steel blade a-flashin'.<br> "Oh, slay him not!" young Gilda cried, her voice a play of passion.<br> "Was ever a maid so tried as I betwixt desire and honor?<br> I should demand you slay the beast, but he stirs in me such ardor!"</p> "Fie, fie!" Sir Loren cried to her. "What foolishness is this?<br> Would you deny you lord and land all for a dragon's kiss?"<br> Intently he did search her face, then frowned in deep dismay<br> As she shed a tear for honor's sake, and sent him on his way.</p> "Why smilest thou, Lord Dragon, sir?" asked our hero in armor laden? <br> "Why, you'd smile too," the worm replied, "if you'd just eaten a maiden."</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="53"> The Golden Vanity </p><font size=3> traditional </b></i></p></p> Oh, there is a lofty ship, and she sails the open sea<br> And the name of our ship is the Golden vanity<br> And we fear we will be taken by the Spanish enemy<br> And sunk beneath the lowland, lowland, lowland,<br> Sunk beneath the lowland sea.</p> Then up spoke our cabin boy, and boldly out spake he<br> Saying unto the Captain, "What will you give to me<br> If I should swim alongside of the Spanish enemy,<br> And sink her in the lowland, lowland, lowland,<br> Sink her in the lowland sea?</p> "Oh I will give you silver and gold," said he<br> "And my own fair daughter your bonny bride shall be<br> If you will swim alongside of the Spanish enemy,<br> And sink her in the lowland, lowland, lowland,<br> Sink her in the lowland sea."</p> So the cabin boy made ready and overboard sprang he,<br> And he swam to the side of the Spanish enemy<br> And with his drilling tool in her side he bore holes three<br> And sank her in the lowland, lowland, lowland,<br> Sank her in the lowland sea.</p> Then the cabin boy swam back to the Golden Vanity<br> And he called upon the Captain for to pull him from the sea.<br> But the Captain would not heed him for his daughter he did need,<br> And left him in the lowland, lowland, lowland<br> Left him in the lowland sea.</p> So then the cabin boy turned round, and he swam to the port side<br> And he called up to his messmates and most bitterly he cried,<br> Saying, "Messmates, pull me up, for I'm drifting with the tide,<br> And I'm sinking in the lowland, lowland, lowland<br> Sinking in the lowland sea."</p> Well we pulled him up on board, but upon the deck he died.<br> So we wrapped him in his hammock, which was so very wide.<br> Then we cast him overboard, and he drifted with the tide<br> And he sank beneath the lowland, lowland, lowland<br> Sank beneath the lowland sea.</p> Oh, there is a lofty ship and she sails the open sea<br> But she sails without a cabin boy whose age was twelve and three<br> And we fear we will be taken by the Spanish enemy<br> And sunk beneath the lowland, lowland, lowland <br> Sunk beneath the lowland sea.</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="54"> Greensleeves </p><font size=3> traditional </b></i></p></p> Alas, my love, you do me wrong <br> To cast me off discourteously.<br> And I have loved you so long<br> Delighting in your company.</p> Chorus<br> Greensleeves was all my joy<br> Greensleeves was my delight<br> Greensleeves was my heart of gold<br> And who, but my Lady Greensleeves.</p> I have been ready at your hand<br> To grant what ever you would crave.<br> I have both waged life and land<br> Your love and good will for to have.</p> Chorus</p> Thou couldst desire no earthly thing<br> But still thou hadst it readily<br> Thy music still to play and sing<br> And yet thou wouldst not love me.</p> Chorus</p> Well I will pray to God above<br> That thou my constancy may'st see<br> For I am still thy lover true<br> Come once again and love me.</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="55"> Gypsy Rover </p><font size=3> traditional </b></i></p></p> The gypsy rover came over the hill,<br> Bound though the valley so shady<br> He whistled and he sang 'till the green woods rang<br> And he won the heart of a lady.</p> Ah dee doo, ah dee doo dah day<br> Ah dee doo, ah dee day dee<br> He whistled and he sang 'till the green woods rang<br> And he won the heart of a lady.</p> She left her father's castle gate,<br> She left her own true lover.<br> She left her servants and her estate<br> To follow the gypsy rover. </p> Ah dee doo, ah dee doo dah day<br> Ah dee doo, ah dee day dee<br> She left her servants and her estate<br> To follow the gypsy rover.</p> Her father sadled his fasted steed,<br> He roamed the valley all over.<br> He sought his daughter at great speed<br> And the whistling gypsy rover.</p> Ah dee doo, ah dee doo dah day<br> Ah dee doo, ah dee day dee<br> He sought his daughter at great speed<br> And the whistling gypsy rover.</p> He came at last to a mansion fine<br> Down by the River Claydee,<br> And there was music and there was wine<br> For the gypsy and his lady.</p> Ah dee doo, ah dee doo dah day<br> Ah dee doo, ah dee day dee<br> And there was music and there was wine<br> For the gypsy and his lady.</p> "He is no gypsy, my father," she said,<br> But lord of tehse lands all over; <br> And I will stay 'till my dying day<br> With my whistling gypsy rover."</p> Ah dee doo, ah dee doo dah day<br> Ah dee doo, ah dee day dee<br> And I will stay 'till my dying day<br> With my whistling gypsy rover."</p> And I will stay 'till my dying day<br> With my whistling gypsy rover."</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="h"> <a name="56"> Heigh, Ho, Nobody Home </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> Heigh, ho, nobody home<br> Meat nor drink nor money have I none<br> Still, I will be merry, very merry<br> Heigh, ho, nobody home.</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="57"> The Heralds Said to Me </p><font size=3> by Ioseph and Cherie Ruadh of Locksley<br> filk: The Twelve Days of Christmas </b></i></p></p> The first time I sent my device, the heralds said to me:<br> It violates the Rule of Three."</p> The next time I tried it, the heralds said to me: <br> "We changed the forms, <br> And it violates the Rule of Three." </p> The third time I tried, and the heralds said to me: <br> "We upped the fees, <br> We changed the forms, <br> And it violates the Rule of Three."</p> Another time I tried, and the heralds said to me: <br> "We haven't got it, <br> We upped the fees, <br> We changed the forms, <br> And it violates the Rule of Three. "</p> The fifth time I tried it, the heralds said to me:<i> (monastic chant)</i> <br> "In a decision rendered by the College of Arms on August 1rst, A.S. V, it was decided that this type of heraldic design was not appropriate to the aims and intentions of the Corporate Body. Holy, Holy, Holy! </p> ...We haven't got it, <br> We upped the fees, <br> We changed the forms, <br> And it violates the Rule of Three." </p> I tried it a sixth time and the heralds said to me:</p> "It's against the Rule of Tincture, <br> "In a decision rendered by the College of Arms on August 1rst, A.S. V, it was decided that this type of heraldic design was not appropriate to the aims and intentions of the Corporate Body. Holy, Holy, Holy!</p> We haven't got it, <br> We upped the fees, <br> We changed the forms, <br> And it violates the Rule of Three.</p> <i> (Angrily)</i> The last time I sent my device, the heralds said to me:</p> <i> (Smugly)</i> "Someone else has got it, <br> "It's against the Rule of Tincture, <br> "In a decision rendered by the College of Arms on August 1rst, A.S. V, it was decided that this type of heraldic design was not appropriate to the aims and intentions of the Corporate Body. Holy, Holy, Holy! </p> ...We haven't got it, <br> We upped the fees, <br> We changed the forms, <br> And it violates the Rule of Three!</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="i"> <a name="58"> If I Only Had a Bard </p><font size=3> ©1997 by Ceara ni Neill<br> filk: If I Only Had a Brain (from the Wizard of Oz), with added chorus </b></i></p></p> In my hair I would wear flowers<br> And he'd sing songs by the hour<br> If I only had a bard;<br> Even if his jokes are corny<br> He would always make me...happy <br> If I only had a bard! </p> Chorus<br> And a heigh and a ho, and a heigh, nonny no, <br> If I only had a bard!<br> And a heigh and a ho, and a heigh, nonny no, <br> And he always would be...happy! </p> Where I sit on I'd wear rabbit<br> I'd put woad on out of habit<br> If I only had a bard.<br> I could dance around with flutes<br> And maybe tighten up my glutes<br> If I only had a bard! </p> Chorus </p> We'd hold contests during dinner<br> For to see who is more limber,<br> If I only had a bard.<br> I'd eat beef and he'd eat sweet-meats<br> But he'd always keep his beard neat, <br> If I only had a bard!</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="59"> I'm a Duke and You're Not </p><font size=3> By Lord Thomas Bordeaux<br> (melody negotiable) </b></i></p></p> I've heard some people talkin'<br> Bout the high road I've been walkin<br> Well it's really more about<br> The things that I can't live without.<br> I've got the finest clothes they're makin',<br> And the greatest care I've taken<br> Not to dress like those below me<br> Yeah, you, who used to know me<br> Won't believe the things I've got-<br> 'Cause I'm a duke, and you're not.</p> Chorus<br> I'm a duke and you're not, <br> I can throw those options shots<br> I love the sound of ringing metal,<br> Hey, there's one more for the kettle<br> Yeah, I'm a duke and you're not,<br> Come and get it while it's hot<br> Just set 'em up, I'll knock 'em down,<br> Pound those guys into the ground<br> I'm here to show you what I've got-<br> 'Cause I'm a duke and you're not.</p> When it comes to heavy fightin'<br> There's some things I really like<br> First there's the fact that I'm the winner<br> I never have to buy my dinner.<br> It doesn't matter what I'm sayin'<br> It's my word they'll be obeyin<br> 'Sides most people are just weenies<br> All my Queens wear string bikinis!)<br> I am really hot to trot-<br> 'Cause I'm a duke and you're not.</p> Chorus</p> Those other peers they think they<br> Know a little 'bout the kingdom<br> And the way that things should be.<br> Yeah, but if they did, they'd see<br> That it's the fighting men that matter<br> And the world would surely shatter<br> If I didn't play the game.<br> Things would never be the same<br> And that's why I'm at the top-<br> Cause I'm a duke, and you're not.</p> Chorus</p> I've heard that somewhere out there<br> There's some guy that likes to sing and likes<br> To tell his little stories<br> And oh wait, there's even more-he's<br> Got a little tune he's singin'<br> 'Bout some fighters that he's zingin'<br> And some say that one's about me<br> But won't give them cause to doubt me<br> There's no reason to get hot<br> 'Cause I'm a duke and he's not.</p> I'm a duke and he's not,<br> He can't block my option shots<br> He doesn't' even have a Crescent<br> On the field he isn't' present<br> I'm a duke and he's not<br> And all that he can do is natter<br> He can have his chitter-chatter.<br> Of the things that really matter<br> He's a little, I'm a lot-<br> 'Cause I'm a duke, and he's not.</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="60"> I'm a Rover </p><font size=3> also known as "A Health to All True-Lovers" </b></i></p></p> Chorus <br> I'm a rover, seldom sober.<br> I'm a rover of high degree.<br> It's when I'm drinking<br> I'm always thinking<br> How to gain my loves' company.</p> 'Tis many a night I'm going to ramble,<br> 'Tis many a night I'm going to roam<br> 'Tis many a night I'm going to ramble<br> Into the arms of my won true love.</p> Chorus</p> O through the night be as dark as dungeon<br> Still a star be seen above<br> I shall be guided without a stumble<br> Into the arms of my own true love.</p> Chorus</p> I stepped up to her bedroom window<br> I tapped softly upon the pane<br> I whispered through her bedroom window,<br> My darlin', dear, do you lie alone?</p> Chorus</p> She raised her head from her downsoft pillow<br> Waved her arms about her breast<br> Says what is that at my bedroom window<br> Disturbing me at my long night's rest?</p> Chorus</p> Says I, my darling, it's thy true lover<br> Open the door and let me in.<br> For I have come on this long nights' journey<br> For to be in thy arms again.</p> Chorus</p> She opened the door with the greatest pleasure<br> Opened the door and let me in<br> For I have come on this long nights' journey<br> For to be in thy arms again.</p> Chorus</p> Says I my darlin', I must leave you<br> To climb the hills, they're far above<br> But I shall climb with the greatest pleasure<br> I've been in the arms of my own true love.</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="61"> Itches in Me Britches </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> I was born of country parents<br> One day when I was young<br> That's how the country dialect<br> Became me native tongue.<br> That I was a pretty babe,<br> Me mother she would vow<br> The girls all ran to kiss me<br> Well I wish they'd do it now.</p> Chorus<br> Oh I wish they'd do it now,<br> Oh I wish they'd do it now,<br> I've got itches in me britches <br> And I wish they'd do it now!</p> Well, when I was only six months old<br> The girls would handle me<br> They clutched me to their bosoms<br> And they bounced me on their knee.<br> They would rock me in the cradle<br> And if I made a row<br> They'd tickle me, they'd cuddle me<br> I wish they'd do it now.</p> Chorus</p> At sixteen months, as fine a lad<br> As ever could be seen<br> The girls all liked to follow me<br> Right down to the green<br> They would make a chain of buttercups<br> And drop it on my brow<br> Then they'd roll me in the clover,<br> Well, I wish they'd do it now.</p> Chorus</p> Well the eastern girls would call for me<br> To swim when it was mild<br> Down to the river we would go<br> And splash about a while<br> They would throw the water over me<br> And duck me like a cow<br> Then they'd rub me nice all over.<br> Well, I wish they'd do it now.</p> Chorus</p> Well, it's awful lonely for a lad<br> To lead a single life<br> I think I'll go to the dance tonight<br> And find meself a wife.<br> Oh, I've got six bundle pigs<br> Likewise one big fat sow<br> There'll be plenty of love and bacon <br> For the girl who'll have me now.</p> For the girl who'll have me now<br> For the girl who'll have me now<br> There'll be plenty of love and bacon <br> For the girl who'll have me now.</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="j"> <a name="62"> Jesuitmont </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> There lived a knight in Jesuitmont<br> A huntin' he did ride<br> His footmen all attending him<br> And his horsemen by his side. </p> And they found out in Jesuitmont<br> A pleasant sport and play<br> His lady goes exceeding fine<br> To hear the masses play. </p> An she's called on her daughter Anne<br> To come to her with speed<br> To go and tell the master cook<br> To dress the dinner straight.</p> To go her message for to tell<br> Young Annie feared nae ill<br> An' she is gone to the master cook<br> The message for to tell. </p> Ye maun dress the dow, the dow<br> That fair and milk-white dow<br> That in the parlour shines so fair<br> There's none so fair to show.</p> Here is a penknife in my hand<br> Will bereave thee of my life<br> For thou art the dow that I maun dress<br> Unto thy father's wife. </p> Up them spoke the kitchie boy<br> An' he spoke loud an' high<br> "O save, O save fair Annie's life<br> An' bake me in your pie." </p> "I will not save fair Annie's life,<br> No, not for such as thee<br> But if thou divulge this lady's life<br> Thy butcher I will be." </p> When day was done and night was come<br> And they were all at dinner<br> When he's ca'd for 'is daughter Anne<br> To come and carve his dinner.</p> Up he rose and away he goes<br> An angry man was he<br> "One bit of meat I will not eat<br> Till I fair Annie see." </p> Up then spake the kitchie boy<br> An' he spake loud an' high<br> "An' ye wad your fair Annie see, <br> Ye maun break up the pie." </p> Her meat it was a minced sma'<br> An' forced by the fire<br> An' cursed by her stepmother<br> For it was her desire. </p> This lord he is a-clad in black<br> A' for his Annie's sake<br> An' he has caused her stepmother<br> To be burnt at the stake. </p> An' he has caused the master cook<br> In boilin' lead to stand<br> An' he has make the kitchie boy<br> The heir o' a' his land.</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="63"> Johnny Be Fair </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> <center> The enterprising bard will note that this song may easily be altered with the substitution of female names and, with a few other changes, may be sung by a man as well.</p></p> </center> Oh, Johnny be fair and Johnny be fine and wants me for to wed.<br> And I would marry Johnny but me father up and said,<br> "I'm sad to tell you, daughter, what your mother never knew,<br> But Johnny is a son of mine, and so is kin to you."</p> Oh, Robin be fair, and .....<br> Oh, Sean be fair, and .....</p> ( Change names as needed, repeat as many times as you want. )</p> You never saw a girl so sad and sorry as I was,<br> The boys in town are all my kin and my father is the cause.<br> If life should thus continue I will die a single miss,<br> So I will go to Mother and complain to her of this.</p> "Well, daughter, haven't I taught you to forgive and to forget,<br> And if your father sowed his oats, well, still you needn't fret.<br> Your father may be father to all the boys, but still,<br> He's not the one who sired you, so marry who you will."</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="64"> Joy to the World </p><font size=3> filk: Joy to the World </b></i></p></p> Joy to the world, for war is come And we can fight again! Let every foe know fear and woe</p> And swords and axes swing<br> And swords and axes swing<br> And swords, and swords and axes swing.</p> We'll rule the world with axe and mace<br> And heaven up above<br> Let battle cries ring fierce and high</p> For war is what we love<br> For war is what we love<br> For war, for war is what we love!</p> Joy to the world for war is come<br> With sword and arrow's flight<br> We'll maim and slay throughout the day</p> Debauch and loot at night <br> Debauch and loot at night<br> Debauch, debauch and loot at night!</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="k"> <a name="65"> Knights, Boys, Knights </p><font size=3> by Sir Cipriano d'Alvarez<br> mka Guy Bradley </b></i></p></p> Man, born of woman, was a squire for to be<br> He's born to degradation in every degree<br> Of sword blows and shield drills he never has his ease<br> He has so many masters that he don't know who to please. </p> Chorus<br> Knights, boys, knights; it's knights we ought to be.<br> Knights, boys, knights; by His Magesty's decree<br> The sword and the shield and the whipping boys are we<br> Oh, it's great to be a squire, but it's knights we ought to be! </p> Go to your knight if you want to learn how to fight<br> He'll cave in half your helm and he'll say the shot was light<br> You sue that blow in tourneys and you quickly gain some fame<br> Then your knight comes back to practice and he takes you out again. </p> Chorus </p> Go to the Earl Marshall if you want your weapons checked<br> He'll say you're under-armored with no padding on your neck<br> You make a sturdy gorget out of steel wrapped up in cloth<br> When the first blow breaks the buckle and you cannot get it off. </p> Chorus </p> Fight in a crown tourney if you want to feel a fool<br> Get beaten in a round, if you're lucky you'll last two.<br> You go back to the sidelines, but your lady isn't there<br> She's hanging on the winner and you're left just standing there. </p> Chorus </p> Then you go to the Chiurgeon 'cause you're feeling mighty ill<br> The chiurgeon looks you over and he gives you a pill<br> Then if you die he'll say you're out of his hands. <br> The chiurgeon's done his duty and he doesn't give a damn. </p> Chorus </p> You find a comely lady and you carry all her gear<br> You come right back and find you knight a-whispering in her ear<br> You try to curb your anger 'cause you never had a chance<br> Then they borrow your best sleeping bag and send you off to dance. </p> Chorus </p> Go and find the autocrat to get a place to sleep<br> He'll say there's no more beds, but the mud ain't very deep.<br> You finally get to bed nestled underneath a tree<br> Then you wake up in the morning with a double dose of fleas. </p> Chorus </p> Go tell the Kingdom Seneschal of thinking you have done<br> She'll tell you of the problems of her job which isn't fun<br> You finally do explain to her the nature of your plan<br> Then she says the king won't buy it, and she doesn't give a damn. </p> Chorus </p> The other peers I'm sure will find my tale hard to believe<br> I shall explain it shortly; you indulgences I plead<br> you say that your associates do everything we do<br> But I've yet to see a protégée get beaten black and blue! </p> Chorus </p> The populace may wonder why we're eager to be knights<br> To take on peerage status and a belt that's colored white<br> The answer's far too simple for me even to discuss<br> For anyone with eyes can see they're better off than us. </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="l"> <a name="66"> Lest We For Love </p><font size=3> by Robert Fitzmorgan </b></i></p></p> To see you now my heart would burst,<br> For I have loved you from the first.<br> My lady, I must go away<br> Lest we for love should love betray. </p> With all my heart I've served your lord<br> Since I was knighted by his sword.<br> Near you I can no longer stay,<br> Lest we for love should love betray. </p> Our love it is a dreadful sin<br> Yet still I have this love within<br> For it to end I daily pray<br> Lest we for love should love betray. </p> I stood with him when my lord wed<br> And heard the vows you and he said.<br> Hold fast to what you pledged that day<br> Lest we for love should love betray. </p> My lady I must leave you now<br> For I'd not have you break your vow.<br> Our parting I cannnot delay<br> Lest we for love should love betray.</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="67"> Lizzie Lindsey </p><font size=3> by Robert Burns </b></i></p></p> Chorus<br> Will ye gang to the hielands, Lizzie Lindsey?<br> Will ye gang to the hielands, wi' me?<br> Will ye gang to the hielands, Lizzie Lindsey<br> My bride and darlin' tae be?</p> Tae gang tae the hielands wi ye, Sir<br> I fear that never may be<br> For I ken no the land that you live in<br> Nor ken I the lad I'm gang wi'.</p> Chorus</p> Oh, Lizzie lass, ye mun ken little,<br> If you say that ye do not ken me;<br> For my name it is Lord Robert McDonald<br> A chieftain of high degree</p> Chorus</p> She's kilted up her skirts of green satin<br> She's kilted them over her knee<br> And she's off with Lord Robert McDonald<br> His bride and his darlin' tae be.</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="68"> Local SCA </p><font size=3> by somebody in Three Rivers Barony(?)<br> filk: God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen </b></i></p></p> Arrest these merry gentles, nay it would be so unkind,<br> If you'll but wait a moment sir, we will relieve your mind.<br> We are not escaped lunatics, so kindly us unbind,<br> For we are your local SCA, SCA <br> For we are your local SCA. </p> These men aren't wearing dresses, sir, those are not panty hose.<br> No, those are tights and tunics, sir, they are medieval clothes.<br> And men were really macho then, as everybody knows,<br> So please do not look upon us that way,<br> For we are your local SCA.</p> We recreate past ages, sir, and that is all we do.<br> Please give our swords and knives to us. We'd like our axes, too.<br> Return us all our weapons, sir, the act you will not rue<br> For we mostly use them for display, display.<br> For we are your local SCA. </p> We really are not dangerous, although we like to fight. <br> We do it on a tourney field, you see, so it's all right.<br> And we wear lots of armor, too, like any noble knight, <br> And use our wooden sticks to whale away, whale away<br> For we are your local SCA. </p> Oh, we pavanne in public sir, the horse bransle do also.<br> Full many a fine feast attend and to a revel go.<br> And all that night we sing and drink, for free the mead doth flow,<br> Then drive four hundred miles the next day, the next day, <br> For we are your local SCA.</p> We have a King and Prince who do our loyalty command<br> I'm from Forth Castle shire fair, the finest in the land.<br> And we are on our way to court, but not the one you planned.<br> Oh, please let us go upon our way, our way. <br> For we are your local SCA. </p> Arrest these merry gentles, nay, discretion you should use.<br> For we are lords and ladies, so how can you refuse?<br> I say, that is a lady, sir, you should not her abuse.<br> It is not genteel to act this way, this way,<br> And lock up your local SCA!</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="69"> Long Distance Squire </p><font size=3> by Genevieve Mccullum du Caen and Rei Galen of Bristol<br> filk: Cat's in the Cradle </b></i></p></p> Squired a lad just the other day<br> Gave him his belt in the usual way.<br> But there were wars to fight and men to slay<br> He made a sword while I was away. <br> And he was fightin' 'fore I knew it and as he grew<br> He'd say, "I'm gonna be like you, Sir,<br> You know I'm gonna be like you."</p> Chorus<br> And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon<br> Little squire boy and the man in the moon.<br> When you comin' here Sir, I don't know when<br> But we'll get together then, squire;<br> You know we'll have a good fight then.</p> He became a Lord just the other day.<br> He said, "Thanks for the shield, Sir; come on, lets play.<br> Can you teach me to kill?" I said, "Not today<br> I've got a lot to do." He said, "That's okay."<br> As he walked away, his smile never dimmed.<br> It said, "I'm gonna be like him, yeah.<br> You know I'm gonna be like him."</p> Chorus</p> He came from Pennsic just the other day<br> So much like a man, I just had to say<br> "Squire, I'm proud of you. Can you fight for a while?"<br> He shook his head and he said with a smile,<br> "What I'd really like sir is to borrow your tent, please;<br> See you later, will you leave us please?"</p> Chorus</p> He's long been a knight, he's traveled far away,<br> Saw him here just the other day.<br> "I want to learn that snap blow if you don't mind",<br> He said "I'd teach you Sir, if I could find the time.<br> But the new crown's a hassel and the squires are new.</p> But it's sure nice sparring with you, Sir, <br> It's been sure nice sparring with you."<br> And as the King walked away it occured to me,<br> He'd grown up just like me, yeah, <br> My squire was just like me.</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="70"> Lutefisk and Yams </p><font size=3> by THL Ulf Gunnarsson filk: Green Eggs & Ham </b></i></p></p> Hark and ware, oh Warrior!<br> Weird of Swen now hear you.<br> How good Lars he harried,<br> Pestered with questions.</p> Late at meadhall light burned;<br> Lars did strive to largen<br> Belly with a bowl of<br> Boiled fish his mission.</p> And some chunks of chicken,<br> Cheese and bread and peasoup,<br> Finally pounds of pancakes<br> Paired with lingon berries.</p> Smallish snack he snuck while<br> Woozy wife lay snoozing.<br> When inside there wandered<br> Forth a fellow northman.</p> Lars did greet him greatly<br> For he knew the gruesome<br> Tales of host who hasten<br> Travellers forth from doorstep.</p> Lars did ask his name then.<br> "I am Sven," he mentioned.<br> "Sven I am," he stated.<br> "Do you like lutefisk and yams?"</p> "Nay" said Lars, "though largely<br> Like I food most goodly, but<br> I do not like lutefisk and yams,<br> I do not like them, Sven I am."</p> "Ah," said Sven most sagely.</p> "Would you eat them on a trip?<br> Would you eat them on your ship?"</p> "Nay," said Lars, "though largely<br> Like I food most goodly, but<br> I would not eat them on a trip.<br> I would not eat them on my ship.<br> I do not like lutefisk and yams,<br> I do not like them, Sven I am."</p> "Ah," said Sven most sagely.<br> "might you eat them on a raid?<br> Might you eat them with a maid?"<br> "Nay," said Lars most strongly,</p> "Like I food most goodly, but<br> I would not eat them on a raid,<br> I would not eat them with a maid,<br> I would not eat them on a trip,<br> I would not eat them on my ship.</p> I do not like lutefisk and yams,<br> I do not like them, Sven I am."</p> "Hmmm," said Sven, "Good fellow,<br> would you eat them on the field?<br> Would you eat them off your shield?"</p> "Nay," said Lars most wrothly,<br> "Like I food most goodly, but<br> I would not eat them on a raid,<br> I would not eat them with a maid,<br> I would not eat them on a trip,<br> I would not eat them on my ship,<br> I would not eat them on the field,<br> I would not eat them off my shield.</p> I do not like lutefisk and yams,<br> I do not like them, Sven I am."</p> Sven then looked most crafty.<br> He then slyly stated:<br> "Would you eat them served up cold?<br> Would you eat them if I paid you gold?"</p> "Well," said Lars, "since largely,<br> Like I food most goodly ...</p> I might like lutefisk and yams,<br> I might like them, Sven I am."</p> Sven produced this Swedish<br> yam and lutefisk sample.<br> Lars did test this tasty<br> Treat then longly pondered.</p> Stoutly, Lars then stated:<br> "I despise lutefisk and yams.<br> I despise them, Sven I am.</p> I will not eat them served up cold.<br> I will not eat them if you pay me gold.<br> I will not eat them on the field,<br> I will not eat them off my shield.<br> I will not eat them on a raid,<br> I will not eat them with a maid,<br> I will not eat them on a trip,<br> And I will NOT eat them on <i>MY</i> ship!</p> I do not like lutefisk and yams,<br> I do not like them, Sven I am."<br> And he slew Sven.</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="m"> <a name="71"> Maids in Trades </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> Come all of ye trades and ye tradesmen<br> And let ye be wise that are fools<br> But remember each day<br> That your trade would decay<br> If a maid didn't look to your tools.</p> The blacksmith, the smokey old blacksmith<br> He's known as a jolly old fellow<br> But his iron would burn old<br> And his fire would grow cold<br> If a maid didn't blow up the bellows.</p> And then there's the candlestick maker,<br> He works up the tallow so quick.<br> But his craft would be marred<br> And the works not get hard <br> If a maid didn't hold up the wick.</p> The ploughman, the jolly old ploughman<br> He follows the plow in the silt.<br> But it's ne'er a clod turned<br> If a maid hadn't learned him<br> To drove the blade up to the hilt.</p> The brewer, the jolly old brewer<br> He maketh a very fine ale.<br> But his brew would be waste<br> If there's no maid to taste <br> And make sure it doesn't' go stale.</p> So come all of ye journeymen, craftsmen<br> And all who are apprenticed to trade<br> For it's never a srcew<br> Or a nut would be turned <br> If it weren't for the help of a maid!</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="72"> The Man Who Wouln't Die </p><font size=3> by Sir cipriano d'Alvarez<br> mka Guy Bradley </b></i></p></p> I've armored up a thousand times for<br> Country and for King<br> And many's the tale that I could tell<br> Or song that I could sing.<br> I've fought in Beltane's driving rain<br> And struggled for each breath;<br> At Salt Wars and Oleno where<br> We damn near froze to death.<br> I've had my share of bruises and <br> I've watched the arrows fly, <br> But the strangest thing I've ever seen <br> Was the man who wouldn't die. </p> He stood a tow'ring seven feet<br> A giant among men.<br> His armor was of twelve-gauge steel<br> His hide it was of ten.<br> From a land most far away he came,<br> Their champion and King,<br> And many crafty ways he had <br> To make your helmet ring.<br> The battle lines they soon were joined <br> And much to my surprise,<br> I was locked in single combat with<br> The man who wouldn't die. </p> We circled round a time or two<br> Then I opened up the show<br> With an underhanded wrist shot which<br> Is still my favorite blow.<br> He didn't even try to block, <br> Just brought that great sword down<br> And split my helm completely from<br> The chin up to the crown.<br> And thought my sword was still entrapped <br> In the dent made in his side,<br> "What a mighty Knight" his people cheered<br> "Is the man who wouldn't die."</p> Full four and twenty fighters fell<br> Before his awesome might,<br> And though many blows did land it seems<br> That every one was light.<br> The battle soon was over and <br> By God's own blood he went<br> Off to the sides to doff his gear<br> And hammer out the dents.<br> The second battle soon began<br> And I took another try,<br> Bearing a sword named "Rhino's Bane"<br> For the man who wouldn't die.</p> For "Rhino's Bane" was a special blade<br> Immortals for to cow.<br> And if he had not felt those blows<br> He'd damn well feel one now!<br> Three feet of rattan I center drilled<br> Then hollowed out the head<br> And filled that hole with six or maybe<br> Seven pounds of lead.<br> A single shop was all I'd get;<br> I raised that sword on high,<br> And buried it within the helm <br> Of the man who wouldn't die.</p> He didn't even bat an eye<br> Just calmly struck me down,<br> And then went on to clear the field<br> Of Squires, Knights and Crown.<br> I pondered why this man was not <br> A'stretched out on the dirt;<br> I guess a head shot does no good<br> With nothing there to hurt.<br> The third engagement was delayed<br> To give the chiurgeons time<br> To pry the sword from out the head<br> Of the man who wouldn't die.</p> A battle deep within the woods <br> Was the last fight of the day<br> And the men remaining on my side<br> Went on their knees to pray.<br> "Oh Lord, if you care for us,<br> Allow your moon to fall,<br> Upon this man for that would be<br> The only blow he'd call."<br> But as we marched atop a hill<br> A plan occurred which I<br> Thought maybe could lead to the death<br> Of the man who wouldn't die.</p> Upon this hill there lay a stone<br> A full six feet in girth.<br> "Oh gather round my fighters bold<br> We'll bring this man to earth!<br> Ten stalwart lads I need with me to<br> Strike the final blow,<br> While the rest shall keep behemoth here<br> Occupied below.<br> And when he stops to fight you<br> From up above will fly<br> This boulder full upon the frame<br> Of the man who wouldn't die."</p> It happened just as I foresaw<br> From out the woods he ran<br> And stopped there right below us as <br> According to the plan<br> The men below fought bravely while <br> The men above did strain<br> To send that boulder from the hill<br> Onto his alleged brain.<br> At last the stone it stirred to life<br> And with a final pry,<br> We sent that boulder on its way<br> To the man who wouldn't die.</p> Knocking trees to left and right<br> That fearsome missile sped<br> And with a final bounce it came<br> To rest upon his head.<br> His arms and legs were all that we could see beneath the stone.<br> But when we came from atop the hill <br> We heard our victim groan.<br> Astounded, round bout we stood<br> As day bled into night,<br> And heard him say one final time:<br> "My Lords, that blow was light."</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="73"> Mattie Groves </p><font size=3> by James Childe </b></i></p></p> One high, one high one holiday<br> On the very first day of the year<br> Little Mattie Groves to church did go<br> God s holy word to hear.</p> Well the first to enter was the lady in white<br> The next the lady in blue<br> The last to come was Lord Banner s wife<br> The flower among the few.</p> She cast her eye on little Mattie Groves<br> Little Mattie Groves on she<br> What would you give, my fine young man<br> To spend one night with me?</p> I dare not come, I dare not go<br> I dare not for me life<br> For I see by the little ring you wear<br> You re the great Lord Banner s wife.</p> So what if I am Lord Banner s wife, <br> Lord Banner is not at home<br> He is gone to London town<br> To fetch King Henry s throne.</p> Well, a little footpage was standing by<br> He took to his heels and he run<br> He run till he come to the waterside<br> He bent his breast and swum.</p> What news, what news, my little footpage,<br> Is my castle burning down<br> Or is my lady brought to bed<br> Of a daughter or a son?</p> No, your castle it is not burning down<br> You have no daughter or son<br> Little Mattie Groves is in bed with your wife,<br> They lie as they were one.</p> Well, they hadn t been in bed about two hours<br> I m sure it was not three<br> When Lord Banner appeared in their chamber<br> Standing at their bedfeet.</p> And how do you like my pillow, Milord?<br> And how do you like my sheets?<br> And how do you like that fair young maid<br> Who lies in your arms asleep?</p> It s well that I like your pillows, Milord<br> It s well that I like your sheets<br> But it s best that I love this fair young maid<br> Who lies in my arms asleep</p> Get up, get up, little Mattie Groves<br> Get dressed as fast as you can<br> It ll ne er be said in the morning sun <br> I slew a naked man.</p> Oh, I can t get up, I won t get up<br> I dare not for me life<br> For at your side hand two broadswords<br> And I have nary a knife.</p> If at my side hang two broadswords<br> They cost me deep in purse<br> But you shall have the better of the two<br> And I shall have the worst.</p> The very first blow that little Mattie struck<br> He struck Lord Banner sore<br> The second blow Lord Banner struck<br> Little Mattie rose no more.</p> He s taken his lady by the hand<br> And placed her on his knee<br> Saying "Who do you like the best, my dear,<br> Little Mattie Groves or me?"</p> It s well that I like your rosy red cheeks<br> It s well that I like your chin<br> But it s best that I love little Mattie Groves<br> Than you or all your kin.</p> He s taken her by the lily white hand<br> And led her through the hall<br> He s taken her to an upper room<br> And killed her before them all.</p> Go place these lovers in one grave<br> Go place them deep within<br> But place my lady on the top,<br> For she s of nobler kin.</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="74"> Mead for the Servant </p><font size=3> by Lord Aegid </b></i></p></p> I forged my blade in the fires of my wrathful indignation <br> I quenched the steel in the ice of my veins <br> I hear the fierd in their armor, impatient in the dawn <br> I hear the lookout cry at sight of land, the hosting of the foes</p> Chorus<br> So ready axe, shield and spear <br> To my war-horn pay good heed <br> I'll be the first on the land today<br> Or taste Valhalla's mead</p> All this for life and for honor And for right of kingly sway <br> All this for loot and for plunder And for mercenary pay! </p> Yet says their priest, "We are brothers,<br> Each cherished of their lord." <br> But I say, "Let us die as we have lived, <br> Servants of the sword!" </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="75"> Men of the Picts </p><font size=3> by Rudyard Kipling </b></i></p></p> Rome never heeds where she treads.<br> Always the heavy hooves fall<br> On our stomachs, our hearts and our heads.<br> And Rome never heeds when we bawl. </p> The sentries pass on, that is all.<br> And we gather behind them in hordes,<br> And plot to reconquer the Wall<br> With only our tongues for our swords. </p> We are the little folk, we,<br> Too little to love or to hate.<br> But leave us alone and you'll see<br> Just how we can drag down the State. </p> We are the worm in the wood,<br> We are the rot at the root,<br> We are the tint in the blood,<br> We are the thorn in the foot!</p> Mistletoe choking an oak<br> Rats gnawing cables in two<br> Moths making holes in a cloak<br> How they must love what they do. </p> Yes, and we are the little folk too!<br> We are as busy as they<br> Working our works out of view.<br> But watch, and you'll see them someday. </p> No, indeed we are not strong.<br> But we know people who are!<br> And we, we will guide them along<br> To crush and destroy you in war. </p> Yes, we have always been slaves,<br> And yes, we will still be their slaves.<br> But you, you will die of the shame,<br> And then we will dance on your graves. </p> We are the little folk, we.<br> Too little to love or to hate.<br> But leaves us alone and you'll see<br> Just how we can drag down the State!</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="76"> Meridies </p><font size=3> by Lady Megan Nimaia led Celeta<br> ©1979 by Lila Fraser </b></i></p></p> Will my dazzled eyes ever learn to bear the flash of sun on chrome?<br> Will there ever be a place that I can truly call my home?<br> Will my courage fail before I find the place where I belong?<br> Will the city's noise drown out the sound of a lonely minstrel's song? </p> Meridies, you mean so much to me<br> A joy in life that is almost too much to bear<br> Meridies, you've set my spirit free;<br> Now I can drop the lifeless mask I wear. </p> When I see the knights in their gleaming mail I move back through the years<br> When I see my sister with her lord I'm almost moved to tears.<br> When I see the feast-hall candle-lit it's like coming home at last;<br> Now I know you are my people and my place is in the past.</p> Meridies, you mean so much to me<br> The taste of cloves and the warmth of a stranger's kiss.<br> Meridies, you've set my spirit free;<br> I never dreamed that life could be like this. </p> There's a place where the time has no power over men and their affairs,<br> Where a craftsman still puts all his love and skill into his wares.<br> There's a place where fellowship has not become an empty word<br> Where no noise drowns out the laughter and the music can be heard.</p> Meridies, you mean so much to me<br> You gave the minstrel a time and a place to sing.<br> Meridies, you've set my spirit free;<br> Long live the kingdom, and God bless the King. </p> Meridies, you've set my spirit free;<br> Long live the kingdom, and God bless the King.</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="77"> The Mightiest Weapon </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a King who was growing bored after a feast one night. He decided to hold a contest of who at the court had the mightiest "weapon".</p> The first knight stood up and proclaimed that he had the mightiest weapon. He pulled down his pants and tied a 5-pound weight around himself, but the weapon did rise.</p> The crowds cheered, the women swooned, the children waved multi-colored banners and the minstrels played appropriate music.</p> Another knight stood up and called out that he had the mightiest weapon. He dropped his pants and tied a 10-pound weight to himself, yet the weapon rose.</p> The crowds cheered, the women swooned, the children waved multi-colored banners and the minstrels played appropriate music.</p> After several more knights tried to prove their superiority, successively tying heavier weights, the king finally spoke out. "I have the mightiest weapon of all." He dropped his pants and tied not a 10, not 20, not even 30, but a 60-pound weight to himself. The weapon doth rose.</p> The crowds cheered, the women swooned, the children waved multi-colored banners and the minstrels played "God Save the Queen".</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="78"> The Miller of Dee </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> There was a jolly miller once<br> Lived on the river Dee. <br> He worked and sang from morn till night<br> No lark more blithe than he. </p> And this the burden of his song<br> Forever used to be. <br> I care for nobody, no, not I, <br> If nobody cares for me. </p> I love my mill, she is to me<br> Like parent, child and wife <br> I would not change my station<br> For any other in life. </p> Then push, push, push the bowl my boys<br> And pass it 'round to me<br> The longer we sit here and drink, <br> The merrier we shall be. </p> So let us his example take,<br> And be from malice free<br> Let everyone his neighbor serve<br> As served he'd like to be. </p> And merrily push the can about<br> And drink and sling with glee<br> If nobody cares a dot for us, <br> Why, not a dot care we.</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="79"> Must I Go Bound </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> Chorus <br> Must I go bound and you so free? <br> Must I love one who doesn't' love me?<br> Must I be born with so little art<br> As to love a one that will break my heart? </p> I put my finger to a bush<br> I thought I'd find a trusty tree. <br> But first it bended and then it broke<br> And so did my love prove false to me. </p> Chorus</p> There is a ship that sails the sea<br> She's loaded down as deep as deep can be. <br> But not so deep as the love I'm in<br> I know not ere I sink or swim. </p> Oh, love be gentle and love be kind<br> Gay as a jewel when first it's new. <br> But love grows old and then grows cold<br> And fades away like morning dew.</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="80"> My Favorite Things </p><font size=3> (filk) from "The Sound of Music" </b></i></p></p> Heaters and broadswords and targets and maces<br> Winces of pain on my enemies' faces<br> Ladies, whose praises a noble bard sings<br> These are a few of my favorite things</p> Winning in melees, avoiding a fair fight<br> Revels that last until the morning's first light<br> Cutting down nobles and princes and kings<br> These are a few of my favorite things </p> Chorus<br> When the mail breaks <br> When the helm rings<br> When I'm feeling sad<br> I simply remember my favorite things<br> And then I don't hurt so bad </p> Watching my foemen as they tumble down<br> Fighting for money and winning the crown<br> Looting the fallen of their golden rings<br> These are a few of my favorite things</p> <i>(Mongol version)</i></p> Killing the townsfolk and ravishing maidens<br> Bringing home booty in carts heavy laden<br> Sacking the country and killing the king<br> These are a few of my favorite things</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="81"> My Love Come Late in Life </p><font size=3> by Aislinn </b></i></p></p> Oh, my love come late in life,<br> Who for a time is mine<br> There's not a rose blooms by itself<br> But others round it twine. </p> You came and took me by the hand<br> And fair you spake my name;<br> And fair you looked into my eyes<br> And I to you the same. </p> We walked in gardens of the sun<br> And danced the circle gay<br> The moon she sent her blessings down,<br> And likewise did the day. </p> Oh, Lady, bless this bed of love<br> Whereon we two do lie<br> And may our souls cling hand in hand<br> Far past the day we die. </p> And glad I am the pact was made<br> And glad the deed was done<br> No matter in whose arms you've lain<br> We still will be as one. </p> Go take the lady you must claim,<br> Go take her by the hand <br> Our love is for another life,<br> Live this one as you can. </p> Oh, my love come late in life<br> Who for a time was mine<br> There's not a rose blooms by itself<br> But others 'round it twine.</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="n"> <a name="82"> No Lady </p><font size=3> by Dierdra Mulleabhar<br> mka Debra Eccles </b></i></p></p> I am no lady born,<br> I am the child of a hungry serf.<br> But I am fair or so men say,<br> And so they came to me for mirth. </p> They had their way and left behind <br> A cold and lonely heart,<br> So I asked for coins and jewels and such<br> Before they could depart. </p> I had a little bag I hid<br> Where never man could see,<br> And in this bag of mine I stashed <br> My coins and my jewelry. </p> With passing time, my hoard it grew<br> Till I had a sufficient sum<br> To buy a house and pretty clothes.<br> I knew leaving time had come.</p> So I moved to another land<br> My identity I hid<br> And there it was I quickly found<br> Lords to do as I would bid. </p> They no longer had their way with me,<br> For they thought me a lady fair<br> And I hid all I'd done from them.<br> No secrets did I bare. </p> A noble knight, a handsome lord<br> Whose heart did for me yearn<br> Spoke of marriage. I said "Yes."<br> He had his will in turn. </p> I am a good and loving wife<br> To all the world it seems.<br> And for myself? I now have found <br> A little of my dreams. </p> Yes, I will be so good to him<br> That he will think it love,<br> But I will not give my heart to him,<br> For by the stars above; </p> If I gave my heart to him,<br> I might tell him of my youth;<br> And I would lose what I have gained<br> If I told him the truth. </p> Yes, you may think me cold;<br> You may think me unkind.<br> But life is as it is for me,<br> And I return just what I find.</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="o"> <a name="83"> Ode to Joy </p><font size=3> (filk) </b></i></p></p> Archers make ignoble foe men<br> Shoot at you then run away</p> God d#/@! mother f#@!ing bowmen<br> They're the ones I love to slay</p> Run and chase them catch and mace them<br> Mix and spread them like patie</p> God put bowmen here to bug me<br> Jeez I wish they'd go away!</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="84"> MacIntyre </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> Some friends and I in a public house<br> Was playin' dominoes one night<br> When into the room a fireman came,<br> His face all chalky white.<br> "What's up?" Says Brown, "have you seen a ghost?<br> Have you seen your Aunt Mariah?"<br> "Oh, me Aunt Mariah be buggered", says he,<br> "The bleedin' pub's on fire!"</p> "Oh", says Brown, "What a bit o' luck,<br> Everybody follow me.<br> I'ts down to the cellar; if the fire's not there,<br> Oh, we'll have a grand old spree."<br> So we all went down with good old Brown<br> And the booze we could not miss<br> We hadn't been there ten minutes or more<br> 'Til we were quite like this:</p> Chorus<br> Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand...<br> There was Brown, upside down<br> A-moppin' up the whiskey on the floor.<br> "Booze, booze!" the fireman cried<br> As they come a-knockin' at the door. (thump-thump)<br> "Oh, don't let 'em in 'til it's all mopped up." <br> Somebody shouted "MacIntyre!"<br> And we all got blue-blind paralytic drunk<br> When the Old Dun Cow caught fire.</p> Then Smith run over to the portwine tub <br> And gave it a few hard knocks. (thump-thump)<br> Started takin' off his pantaloons, likewise his shoes and socks.<br> "Hold on," says Brown, "That ain't allowed.<br> You can't do that there here.<br> Don't go washin' your trotters in the portwine tub <br> When we got Guinness's beer! </p> Chorus</p> And then there came a mighty crash<br> Half the bloody roof caved in.<br> We was drowned in the firemen's hose<br> Though we were almost...happy<br> Wo we got some tacks and old wet sacks<br> And we tacked ourselves inside<br> And we sat there getting bleary-eyed drunk<br> When the Old Dun Cow caught fire.</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="85"> Old Time Religion </p><font size=3> filk: traditional hymn </b></i></p></p> <b><i>Chorus</i><br> Give me that old time religion,<br> Give me that old time religion, <br> Give me that old time religion, <br> That's good enough for me!</b> </p> 1. Meeting at the witching hour<br> By the bud and branch and flower<br> Folks are raising up the power<br> That's where I want to be! </p> 2. We shall worship with the Druids <br> Drinking strange fermented fluids<br> Running naked through the woo-ids<br> And that's good enough for me. </p> 3. Let us gather in our saunas<br> When the Spirit comes upon us<br> To perform the rites of faunas,<br> That's good enough for me! </p> 4. I'll rise early in the morning <br> When the sun gives me the warning <br> That the solar age is dawning <br> Well, that's good enough for me.</p> 5. Let us go and worship Hermes;<br> Got a staff that crawls with wormies <br> That could knock out all the germies,<br> He's good enough for me. </p> 6. We went off to worship Venus<br> And by gosh, you should have seen us!<br> Now the clinic has to screen us,<br> But she's good enough for me!</p> 7. We will pray to Aphrodite<br> Even though she's rather flighty<br> And they say she wears no nighty <br> And that's good enough for me. </p> 8. If your rising sign is Aries,<br> You'll be taken by the fairies<br> Meet the Buddha in Benares,<br> Where he'll hit you with a pie. </p> 9. Good old Thor, the god of Thunder<br> Really helped us get our plunder<br> Tho' his head's still truly dunder,<br> He's still good enough for me. </p> 10. We will pray with those Egyptians<br> Build pyramids to put our crypts in<br> Cover subways with inscriptions,<br> And that's good enough for me. </p> 11. Oh, old Odin we will follow<br> And in fighting we will wallow<br> 'Til we wind up in Valhallo<br> And that's good enough for me. </p> 12. It was good enough for Loki,<br> It was good enough for Loki,<br> He thinks Thor's a little hokey,<br> But it's good enough for me. </p> 13. If you think religion's awful<br> And you've really had your crawful<br> Just be sure your acts are lawful<br> Or they'll all be after thee. </p> 14. Pan and all the satyrs brayed in<br> Chorus when they saw a maiden<br> "What a faith to get a-laid in!"<br> And it's good enough for me.</p> 15. Well, Pan's pipes got plugged last summer<br> And it really was a bummer.<br> Finally had to call a plumber,<br> But it's good enough 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 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="86"> One Misty Moisty Morning </p><font size=3> by Steelye Span </b></i></p></p> One misty moisty morning when cloudy was the weather<br> I met with an old man a-clothed all in leather. <br> A-clothed all in leather with his cap beneath his chin<br> Singing how d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again.</p> This rustic was a thresher as on his way he hied<br> And with a leather bottle fast buckled to his side<br> He wore no shirt upon his back but wool unto his skin<br> Singing how d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again. </p> I went a little further and there I met a maid<br> A-going a-milking, a-milking she said<br> The I began to compliment as she began to sing<br> Saying how d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again. </p> This maid her name was Dolly clothed in a gown of grey<br> I being somewhat jolly persuaded her to stay<br> And straight I fell a-courting her in hopes her love to win<br> Singing how d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again. </p> I having time and leisure, I spent a vacant hour<br> A-telling of my treasure while sitting in her bower<br> With many kind embraces I stroked her double chin<br> Singing how d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again. </p> I said that I would married be and she would be my bride<br> And long we should not tarry and twenty things beside<br> I'll plough and sow and reap and mow and you shall sit and spin<br> Singing how d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again. </p> Her parents then consented, all parties were agreed<br> Her portion thirty shillings, we married were with speed<br> Then Will the Piper he did play whilst others danced and sang, <br> Saying how d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again.</p> Then lusty Ralph and Robin with many damsels gay<br> Did ride on roan and dobbins to celebrate the day<br> And when they met together their caps they off did fling<br> Saying how d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again.</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="87"> Out of Sight, Out of Mind </p><font size=3> by Barnabe Googe, 1563 </b></i></p></p> The oftener seen, the more I lust.<br> The more I lust, the more I smart.<br> The more I smart, the more I trust.<br> The more I trust, the heavier heart.<br> The heavy heart breeds mine unrest.<br> Thy absence, therefore, like I best.<br> The rarer seen, the less in mind.<br> The less in mind, the lesser pain.<br> The lesser pain, less grief I find.<br> The lesser grief, the merrier I.<br> Therefore, I wish thy sight to fly.<br> The further off, the more I joy.<br> The more I joy, the happier life.<br> The happier life, less hurts annoy,<br> The lesser hurts pleasure most rife.<br> Such pleasures rife shall I obtain,<br> When distance doth depart us twain.<br> </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="p"> <a name="88"> Paddy's Song </p><font size=3> by James Treebull (with modifications for the SCA)<br> </b></i></p></p> Milord, I write this note for to tell you of my plight<br> And at the time of writing I am not a pretty sight.<br> My body is all black and blue; my face, a deathly grey<br> And I write this note to say why I'm not on the wall today. </p> While working on the castle wall, some bricks I had to clear.<br> For to throw them down from off the top seemed quite a good idea.<br> But the bailiff, he would not agree, him being an awful sod<br> He said I'd have to cart them down the ladder in my hod. (hood)</p> Well, clearing all these bricks by hand, it seemed so very slow<br> So I hoisted up a barrel and secured the rope below.<br> But in my haste to do the job, I was too blind to see<br> That a barrel full of building bricks is heavier than me. </p> So when I untied the rope, of course, the barrel fell like lead<br> And clinging tightly to the rope I started up instead.<br> I shot up like an arrow, and to my dismay I found<br> That halfway up I met the bloody barrel coming down. </p> Well, the barely broke my shoulder as toward the ground it sped,<br> And when I reached the top I banged the pulley with my head.<br> I clung on tight, though numb with shock from that almighty blow, <br> While the barrel spilled out half its bricks some forty feet below.</p> Now when the bricks had fallen from the barrel to the floor,<br> I then outweighed the barrel, so I started down once more.<br> Still clinging tightly to the rope, I raced towards the ground.<br> And I landed on those broken bricks that lay scattered all around. </p> While as I lay there moaning, I thought sure I'd passed the worst<br> But when the barrel hit the top, 'twas then the bottom burst.<br> A shower of bricks rained down on me. I didn't have a hope<br> And in the great confusion, I let go the bloody rope. </p> Well, the barrel now was heavier and it started down once more<br> And it landed right on top of me, as I lay there on the floor.<br> It broke three ribs and my left arm and I can only say<br> I hope you understand why I'm not on the wall today.</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="89"> Pennsic, Soon Around the Corner </p><font size=3> by Ceara ni Neill<br> mka Alexandria Long </b></i></p></p> The summer wanes, the winter it cools.<br> We realize, my love, we were only fools.<br> But care we not of our lot,<br> For Pennsic is soon around the corner. </p> So shine your boots and your armor well<br> And take care your battle stories, they do not swell.<br> For when ye do fight, then the truth it will tell!<br> For Pennsic is soon around the corner. </p> And brew ye lots of ale and mead.<br> You can ne'er brew too much for to fill your need!<br> And bring ye your cup when you come to sup,<br> For Pennsic is soon around the corner. </p> To minstrels, bards, afar I hail:<br> Come sing us your songs and drink of our ale!<br> And the dancers will dance to the drummers' beat true<br> For Pennsic is soon around the corner. </p> So smile, my love and dry your eyes<br> As the grass on the battlefield waves at the sky<br> We'll frolic together and meet many others<br> For Pennsic is soon around the corner. </p> So pack ye your tent and your garb and your sword<br> And if there is room, you can pack even more.<br> You can ne'er bring too much to the Pennsic War!<br> Aye, Pennsic is soon around the corner.<br> Aye, Pennsic is soon around the corner.</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="90"> Preachain Song </p><font size=3> by Ceara ni Neill<br> mka Alexandria Long </b></i></p></p> We live in a world that is vile and wrong<br> We look to each other to keep ourselves strong<br> With respect to our culture, we recreate the days<br> And the best we know how practice all the ancient ways.</p> The sky smiles above us to the earth beneath our feet<br> On occasion, if you listen, the winds laugh maniacally<br> But the trees wave them quiet and the brook bubbles them still<br> And the gods invite us out to play, to frolic at will. </p> Chorus<br> Preachain, Preachain, let us all gather 'round<br> And drive our enemies into the ground<br> The Goddess is with us and we fight as one<br> We belong to the Earth, the Sea and the Sun. </p> Some spend their lives struggling to keep up the pace<br> With society's downfall and technology's mace<br> But we as a Clanne seek a higher, deeper call<br> For it's our own inner child that will save us all. </p> Chorus </p> As Children of the Crow we will never grow old;<br> Our hearts are wild and free.<br> And ne'er will we live as slaves to mundanes<br> We belong to the Earth, Fire, Sky and the Sea!</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="91"> The Price of a Nobleman's Pride </p><font size=3> THL Colin MacBrayer<br> mka Leslie Bice </b></i></p></p> MacLeod and McKenzie are all in a frenzy and calling their kinsmen to war o'er six stony acres, put up in a wager that both of them claim to have won. </p> Chorus<br> And proudly they went there<br> And fiercely they fought there<br> And bravely they stood there and died<br> And the debt that was paid<br> With the blood spilled that day was<br> The price of a nobleman's pride</p> Young Seamus McKenzie, still nine short of twenty<br> Is sneaking away to the war<br> He can't wait to grow up, and prove he's a man but<br> Now all of his growing is done. </p> Chorus</p> Old Ian MacLeod was both worried and proud<br> To see all his fine sons go to war<br> But one came back witless and one came back legless<br> And one never came back at all</p> Chorus</p> Malcolm McKenzie was known to be friendly<br> And loved by the whole countryside<br> It was all he could do as he cut friends in two<br> To see through the tears in his eyes</p> Chorus</p> MacLeod and McKenzie are all in a frenzy<br> And calling their kinsmen to war<br> Vengence they claim for the ruined and slain<br> And the bloodshed has only begun. </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="92"> The Price of Duty </p><font size=3> tune: slow lament, 'Scarborough Fair-ish'<br> by Yitzhak ibn Yoshua<br> mka James M. Turner<br> </b></i></p></p> Chorus<br> Where sir be my bonnie sweet baby?<br> And where now be my lass? <br> For all that I once held dearest to me<br> Is gone like shattered glass. </p> I hold a seat of honor and power<br> With much duty to uphold<br> But once I loved a bonnie fair lady<br> With hair of red burning gold. </p> We met one night, b chance or by fortune<br> Though fate seemed heavy on me<br> Our eyes first met and our lips soon followed<br> My sweet, oh how I love thee. </p> Chorus<br> Our love was for the shadows and darkness<br> My station kept up apart<br> She played her games in public with others<br> But only I had her heart. </p> Then one bright day, she told me a secret<br> That brought to me greatest joy<br> For we'd conceived q baby together<br> A little girl or a boy. </p> Chorus<br> Then one dark eve, a knight took my lady<br> To share a bottle, he said. <br> He asked of her what she'd never give him<br> And then the sky turned blood red.</p> He struck her hard where our child lay sleeping<br> She fought him back while she bled<br> But by the time that rescue came running, <br> My baby lay in her, dead. </p> Chorus</p> This yellow cur still haunts me at present<br> He laughs and bellows at court<br> I'd challenge him to fight for his honor<br> And make his passing great sport. </p> But my lady bids me hold back my weapon<br> I can't be seen in disgrace<br> So she and I share tokens in secret<br> And mourn what we can't replace. </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="93"> </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> The Priest by Mikal Hrafspa ...as conveyed from the SCA minstrel list, at a time I do not remember:</p> <center> "Very well, Larkin," Mikal replies, and takes a long pull at the foamy horn. "A tale I will tell indeed. And if you wish explanation for this story, it is one of the old tales of the Norse, and has no explanation that would suit the ears of more 'civilized' peoples." He stands to address the fire, his eyes not seeing the surrounding bards. And in this moment, he is lost to them, lost to all but memory. He speaks:</p></p></center> </td></tr> <tr><td width=50%><font size=3 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"> Up from the town<br> Wailing their tears <br> Seeing their husbands<br> Slain on the field</p> The cries of the wounded<br> Sobs of the women<br> Death came to many<br> Dirges were wailed</p> I stayed by my friend<br> Who slew on the field<br> On the still living<br> And their souls lingered</p> Sagas I sang<br> The silver of poets<br> To summon valkyries<br> Victorious again</p> It was near sunset<br> A young priest stopped <br> And listened a while<br> In wonder at songs</p> He came to the side<br> Catching the shoulder<br> Gently he looked<br> And grasped at his pouch</p> Each time he touched <br> Prayers from the text<br> Words long remembered<br> Making deep scars</p> All of that darktime<br> Fending off death<br> From this great Norseman<br> Treating as friends</p> Just before dawn <br> Kund breathed deeper<br> I called the priest<br> Why he had pity</p> How can I turn<br> All life is truth<br> I was a student<br> To slaughter our Abbot</p> But I have read <br> His sins are removed<br> His road is short<br> He should be swift</p> With them was a man<br> Son of a merchant<br> His was the spear<br> For many seasons</p> I saw your eyes<br> You know the sermons<br> 'Give peace to your foes'<br> Remember this priest</p> The priest walked away<br> For his own people<br> I carried my friend<br> In the van of the king</p> But in the silence<br> A son of two fathers<br> Must the first one die<br> Paths I must cross<br> Here I must choose</p> </td><td width=50%><font size=3 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"> women were trudging<br> tearing their hair<br> finding their sons<br> to rot in the sun</p> whirled in the wind<br> and whispers of breath<br> relief to the dying<br> and graves were dug</p> to ward off the foes<br> or ravens that fed<br> while their breath labored<br> clutching at life</p> songs of the heroes<br> on Kund I spent<br> to take him to Vallhalla<br> my valiant friend</p> while I was singing<br> hearing the sagas<br> waiting in silence<br> that blended with wails</p> of the fallen Kund<br> of his companion<br> at the wounds gaping<br> to gather some herbs</p> each time he tended<br> he whispered each time<br> deep in their meaning<br> in my memory</p> the priest kept this duty<br> with prayer and drug<br> his people's foe<br> the ones they had fought</p> death passed them by<br> he would not die<br> to answer this poet<br> on this great Pagan</p> when prayers I sang<br> Christ gave his sons<br> that was his prayer. <br> perhaps that is good. </p> from the teachings of Patrick?<br> all is a treasure<br> when Vikings did sail<br> and carry off silver. </p> our Abbot did mention<br> raised by our monks<br> that slew our dear Abbot<br> we willed him to Satan! </p> the holy writ<br> by the holy road<br> and will end soon<br> to choose who he serves</p> saving his prayers<br> crying in pain<br> and gently laid Kund<br> and kept him quiet</p> I knew the secret<br> a servant of two faiths<br> for the other? <br> gone without a trace<br> and in choosing face </p> </td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2> <font size=3 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"> <center> Mikal drains the horn in one long pull, and turns aside from the fire quickly, lest they spy the gleam of tears in his eyes.</p> </center> </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="q"> <a name="94"> The Queen Among The Heather </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> For it's up a wide and a lonely glen<br> It was shed by many's a lofty mountain<br> It being onto the busy haunts of men<br> It being the first day that I went out a-hunting</p> For it's been to me a happy day<br> The day I spied my rovin' fancy<br> She was herding her cows out over the knolls<br> And down amongst the curlin' heather</p> For her coat was white and her gown was green<br> Her body it being long and slender<br> Wi' her cast-down locks and her well-fared face<br> It has of-times made my heart to wander </p> For it's I've been to balls where they were bust<br> And it's I've been to London and Balquither;<br> And the bonniest lassie that e'er I saw <br> She was kilted and bare-footed amongst the heather. </p> Says I, "My lass, will you come with me<br> And sleep wi' me in a bed of feathers'<br> I'll give you silks and scarlets that will make you shine<br> If you'll be my queen amongst the heather." </p> She said, "My lad, your offer's fair<br> And I really think you're all for laughter<br> For it's you being the son of a high squire man<br> And me but a poor humble shepherd's daughter." </p> But it's her I sought and it's her I got<br> And with her I intend to be contented. <br> Fare you well, fare you well to your heather hill, <br> Fare you well, fare you well, my song it is ended.</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="95"> Queen of All Argyle </p><font size=3> by Andrew M. Stewart </b></i></p></p> Gentlemen it is me duty<br> To inform you of one beauty<br> Though I'd ask of you a favour<br> Not to seek her for a while<br> Though I own she is a creature<br> Of character and feature<br> No words can paint the picture<br> Of the queen of all Argyle</p> Chorus<br> And if you could have seen her there<br> Boys, if you had just been there<br> The swan was in her movements<br> And the morning in her smile<br> All the roses in the garden<br> They bow and ask her pardon<br> For not one could match the beauty<br> Of the Queen of all Argyle</p> On the evening that I mentioned<br> I passed with light intention<br> Through a part of our dear country<br> Known for beauty and for style<br> In the place of noble thinkers<br> Of scholars and great drinkers<br> But above them all for splendour<br> Shone the Queen of all Argyle</p> Chorus</p> So my lads I needs must leave you<br> My intentions no' to grieve you<br> Nor indeed would I deceive you<br> Oh I'll see you in a while<br> I must find some way to gain her<br> To court her and attain her<br> I fear my heart's in danger<br> From the Queen of all Argyle.</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="r"> <a name="96"> The Ramblin' Rover </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> Chorus<br> There be sober men aplenty<br> And drunkards barely twenty<br> There are men of over ninety <br> Who have never yet kissed a girl. <br> But give me the Ramblin' Rover<br> From Orkney down to Dover<br> We will roam the country over <br> And together we'll face the world. </p> There be may who fain enjoyment<br> From merciless employment<br> Their admission was this deployment<br> From the minute they left the school<br> As they save and scrape the ponder <br> While the rest go out and squander<br> Wee the world and rove and wonder<br> And were happier as a rogue. </p> Chorus</p> Well, I've roved through all tarnation<br> Seen the light in all creation<br> I've enjoyed the see sensation<br> When my company did prove kind<br> And when courtin' was my pleasure<br> I drank another measure<br> To the good friends that we treasure<br> For they are always on our minds. </p> Chorus</p> So when troubles do befall me<br> To the high road I do haul me<br> Robbin' Johnny's what they call me<br> 'Tis me blessing and me bane<br> Though my comrades have been many<br> I'll take a drink with any<br> Till I've spent me last wee penny<br> And life I'll not see again. </p> Chorus</p> Wo when you're bent up with arthritis<br> And your bowels have got colitis<br> You've got gallopin' gollipanitis<br> And your thinkin' it's time you died,<br> If you've been a man of action<br> As you're lying there in traction<br> You will gain some satisfaction, <br> Thinkin', Damn it, at least I tried. </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="97"> Red Belt, Silver Spurs </p><font size=3> by Rathflaed DuNoir, Black Bard of Meridies<br> mka Stephen Melvin </b></i></p></p> Today the silver chain goes, around your shoulders<br> And we place the silver spurs upon your heels<br> As the red belt is girded around your hips<br> I remember how it feels. </p> Many years ago I myself took that honor<br> To pledge my fealty to my knight<br> Today I give to you the gift they gave so long ago to me<br> To chain you and bind you to the right. </p> As I pledge my honor to my liege lord on the field<br> And swear it by gold chain and belt of white<br> So too you pledge to me your sword and shield in the battle<br> And I know that I can count you by my side. </p> Chorus<br> Tis true I wear the white belt now, but once I stood your place<br> I recall the chivalry I searched to find<br> For by the silver chain you wear and the red belt round your waist<br> I know your honor ranks as much as mine. </p> Now you have much to learn and I have much to teach you<br> For you must wear the mantle of a knight<br> For they only give the belt of white to those who wear it on their actions<br> So let your words and deeds be bold and bright.</p> And if you wear the belt of red through all you years and days<br> And they never give to you the spurs of gold<br> Then let it not be said that they ever had a reason<br> For still you are bound by chiv'ry's code. </p> I take your oath today and I will teach you and I'll train you<br> Be proud of these you red belt, spurs and chain<br> Keep strong you faith in God, you kingdom and your knight<br> As once they asked of me to do the same. </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="98"> Rite of Passage </p><font size=3> by Duke Conn McNeill </b></i></p></p> In Hyberia born to a father full worthy <br> Who died fighting Normans with a sword in his hand. <br> My schooling was then taken up by my uncle<br> A pirate more clever than the scholars of France. </p> He said, <br> I've seen a horse, a fine Andalus stallion, <br> I've seen a blade of the good Spanish steel<br> I've seen a bonnet of Rhineland gilt iron, <br> And a cunning wrought hauberk from over the sea<br> I've seen them all, I've seen them all-a-all. <br> I've seen them all in my travels at sea. </p> Now my eyes met the knights as we boarded his vessel<br> My rusty blade sundered by his first blow at me<br> As I bore him to the deck my wound burned like fire<br> But not quite as brightly as the things in my dreams. </p> I said, <br> I'll have a horse, a fine Andalus stallion, <br> I'll have a blade of the good Spanish steel<br> I'll have a bonnet of Rhineland gilt iron, <br> And a cunning wrought hauberk from over the sea.<br> I'll have them all, I'll have them all-a-all, <br> I'll have them all with the ransom for thee. </p> The ransom by law, well it went to my uncle<br> A tunic and dagger were all he gave me<br> I drank the French wine as the knights spoke of tourney<br> And the fine things and glories that waited for me. </p> Saying, <br> I'll have a horse, a fine Andalus stallion, <br> I'll have a blade of the good Spanish steel<br> I'll have a bonnet of Rhineland gilt iron, <br> And a cunning wrought hauberk from over the sea.<br> You'll have them all, You'll have them all-a-all, <br> You'll have them all if you come back with me. </p> So I went with the knight for my heart was a lions'<br> But I had no skill with the horse or the lance<br> Through the pain and the shame of my training I chanted<br> My head hit the ground, or I stumbled at dance. </p> Saying, <br> I'll have a horse, a fine Andalus stallion, <br> I'll have a blade of the good Spanish steel<br> I'll have a bonnet of Rhineland gilt iron, <br> And a cunning wrought hauberk from over the sea.<br> I'll have them all, I'll have them all-a-all, <br> I'll have them all when I've mastered these deeds. </p> The tournament field held both demons and angels<br> Men well scarred and ruthless And ladies full fair<br> My horse and my armour were much cause for laughter<br> But I laughed right back when I saw the knights there</p> For one sat a horse a fine Andalus stallion, <br> One girt a blade of the good Spanish steel, <br> Another donned a bonnet of Rhineland gilt iron, <br> And a cunning wrought hauberk from over the sea<br> I'll have them all, I'll have them all-a-all, <br> I'll have them all when I've won them from ye</p> Now the knights in the meadow they numbered 500<br> But midst that death's throng I saw clearly but three<br> The first one still carries my lance in his shoulder<br> The second and third lie well bitten by steel</p> Now, <br> I'll have a horse, a fine Andalus stallion, <br> I'll have a blade of the good Spanish steel<br> I'll have a bonnet of Rhineland gilt iron, <br> And a cunning wrought hauberk from over the sea.<br> I have them all, I have them all-a-all, <br> I have them all and now all shall know me</p> The ladies in the evening they looked on me frowning<br> Saying "Any wild beast can do the deeds that we've seen"<br> So I danced in the galliard and lilted a chansong<br> Now all the knights grow quite jealous of me</p> For, <br> I'll have a horse, a fine Andalus stallion, <br> I'll have a blade of the good Spanish steel<br> I'll have a bonnet of Rhineland gilt iron, <br> And a cunning wrought hauberk from over the sea.<br> I have them all, I have them all-a-all, <br> I have them all, all the ladies I mean</p> By torchlight we hearkened to tales of armed pilgrims<br> Who told us of wonders in the lands to the east<br> Where a butler through merit became Prince of Jaffa<br> I cried out "My lords brave a passage for me." </p> For, <br> I'll have a horse, a fine Andalus stallion, <br> I'll have a blade of the good Spanish steel<br> I'll have a bonnet of Rhineland gilt iron, <br> And a cunning wrought hauberk from over the sea.<br> I have it all, I have it all-a-all, <br> I'll have it all, all the lands there for me</p> My hauberk has warded a dozen barbed arrows<br> My stallion with hoofs shod in iron fells three<br> The blow of an emir is turned on my bonnet<br> My blade swift as lightening flies straight at his teeth</p> And, <br> I'll have a horse, a fine Andalus stallion, <br> I'll have a blade of the good Spanish steel<br> I'll have a bonnet of Rhineland gilt iron, <br> And a cunning wrought hauberk from over the sea.<br> I have them all, I have them all-a-all, <br> I have them all, all his lands left to me</p> My fief on the marches looks east on Damascus<br> A holding fit only for the fierce and the bold<br> And I need strong vassals with hearts like a lion's<br> To help me bring back what the caravans hold. </p> And, <br> You'll have a horse, a fine Andalus stallion<br> You'll have a blade of the good Spanish steel<br> You'll have a bonnet of Rhineland gilt iron<br> And a cunning wrought hauberk from over the sea. <br> You'll have them all, You'll have them all-a-all<br> You'll have them all, all the spoils of the east</p> You'll have them all, You'll have them all-a-all<br> You'll have them all, if you come back with me.</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="99"> The Ritual of Lughnasadh </p><font size=3> by Ceara ni Neill<br> mka Alexandria Long </b></i></p></p> T'was summer, Pennsic XXIV<br> A season close to heart<br> My soul I'd thought lost to hardship and strife<br> And then the ritual began.</p> A seed deep within me I'd found long ago<br> But had feared of its power and not let it grow<br> For I had emotions I could not let show<br> And then the Circle began.</p> The cauldron of water stood still as a mirror<br> To receive the image of the Moon. <br> Sure She rose o'er the hill to spill out her light<br> And touch me, like a spell.</p> Barely conscious was I of activities at hand: <br> The Smudging, the Calling of the Corners; <br> And I shook from inside, feeling the presence<br> Of the gods, gathered with us to stand.</p> One by one, we advanced to kneel<br> And reverence the Moon in the cauldron.<br> I pulled a pebble from the pot,<br> Cold, clear water on my hand, to feel.</p> The grain we threw to the wind so gentle<br> And drank of the mead so sweet<br> When the end of the ritual was announced <br> I found myself sitting, slightly weak.</p> The Powers I'd felt were great and strong<br> Yet soft and gentle and kind<br> And I rose with a sense of renewed inner strength <br> Prepared for a journey long.</p> The presence of the gods that night<br> Induced direction in or lives.<br> Aye, hardship and strife, though perhaps more to come<br> Are passed by, with contented life.</p> T'was summer, Pennsic XXIV<br> A season close to heart. <br> Lughnasadh was the ritual<br> From which my renewed life began,<br> From which my renewed life began.</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="r"> <a name="100"> The Road to Estrella </p><font size=3> by Gunnar Redbeard<br> filk: The Streets of El Paso </b></i></p></p> I once set out on the road to Estrella<br> With forty nine lords to the Great Desert War. <br> We'd chartered a school bus by pooling resources<br> And packed it with more junk and more junk and more. </p> We finally got loaded and went down the freeway<br> 'Twas well after midnight and we were all dead<br> Forty-nine hours seemed like such an adventure<br> You couldn t have imagined the journey ahead! </p> Our shields and our armor were piled in the isle<br> A pole arm was jammed in my eye-yi-yi-yi<br> We crawled up each hill like a snail with arthritis<br> But boy, on the downgrade that school bus would fly! </p> Just try to sleep on a bright yellow school bus<br> With forty-nine lords and a trainload of gear. <br> Careening along without padding or cushions<br> For forty-nine hours sure is hell on the rear! </p> We'd all read the paper and all done the puzzle<br> We'd talked ourselves hoarse and could say nothing more. <br> My ankles are swollen, my knees are like rubber<br> By the time we arrive I'll be ruined for sure! </p> Our shields and our armor were piled in the isle<br> A pole arm was jammed in my eye-yi-yi-yi<br> If I have to eat one more time at MacDonald's<br> I'll go berserk and somebody will die! </p> The second day out found us somewhere in Kansas<br> Or perhaps Oklahoma, or Texas, who knows? <br> We no longer cared if we made any progress<br> We followed the highway wherever it goes. </p> The silence was grim and the odor could mother<br> Empty food wrappers were piled everywhere<br> Half of us hated the sight of each other<br> The other half simply was too numb to care. </p> Our shields and our armor were piled in the isle<br> A pole arm was jammed in my eye-yi-yi-yi<br> We finally broke down somewhere outside of Tucson<br> And I said, "Aw, hell!" and decided to fly! </p> No more will I take the road to Estrella<br> Although it was grand and Exciting, I'm sure<br> Forty nine hours on a school bus is torture<br> And I'm just no that desperate to go to a war. </p> Since I've returned I am feeling much better<br> I have recovered and I'm doing fine<br> And now I can laugh at my little adventure<br> But when I see a school bus, chills run down my spine! </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="101"> Road to Rome </p><font size=3> by Iain de Macusswell </b></i></p></p> We left out in the morning marching unto war <br> And I feel as if I've been here a hundred times before<br> Though it's my first time to go and dance the blades <br> Before I slept last even to my gods I prayed </p> Chorus<br> If I die in battle tomorrow I'll be home <br> Though it's seventy days march to there from Rome<br> But a soul travels swiftly on the night wind <br> And if I die in battle I'll be home again</p> They marched us through the, mud the mountains and the snow<br> I dreamed of my home the land that I know<br> But I won't return a coward to my lover's home<br> So I tighten up my sword and march along to Rome</p> (Chorus) </p> Her eyes are like the sea, her hair a shining red<br> She said I'd return a warrior 'fore next I shared her bed<br> So I fight for her and I fight for my home <br> And I fight for the gold, stamped with the name of Rome</p> (Chorus) </p> We're ten days from Rome or so the old ones say<br> And we've been upon their roads for a night and for a day<br> Then we see their host before us, a crimson sea of war<br> Can this truly be the same Rome that we fought before? </p> (Chorus) </p> We make our final stand along their cursed road<br> I'm covered in lime, blood, sweat and woad<br> And I know I'll never see the city they call Rome<br> For the sky grows dark as a javelin sends me home</p> (Chorus) </p> As I travel with the Sidhe on my journey home<br> They show me of the future of this place they call Rome<br> They show my people running they show my homeland burn <br> And the Sidhe say make ready for the legions come</p> (Chorus) </p> <i>(Final verse to be sung without chorus)</i> In my homeland a child is born the very next day<br> He learns the sword and shield while others laugh and play<br> And his mother's soul is shaken and She's frozen to the bone <br> For the child has her lover's eyes and his first word is Rome....</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="102"> Rose, Rose </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose,<br> Will I ever see thee wed?<br> I will marry at thy will, Sire<br> At thy will.</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="s"> <a name="103"> Signs </p><font size=3> by Lord Erik MacSwaser, inspired by Char ibn Bashar<br> filk: Signs </b></i></p></p> And the sign says, "Long haired freaky people, come on over and play."<br> So I looked around and scratched my head and said "It's just the SCA."<br> They said, "You look like a fine outstanding war band, we think you'll do."<br> So I put on my hat and said "Imagine that, me fighting with you."</p> Chorus<br> Signs, signs, where'd they put the signs? <br> Blocked behind the scenery, so hard to find.<br> Drive here don't drive there,<br> Where'd they put the signs?</p> And the sign says, "At the next intersection, you must take a right.<br> Then just keep on driving, you can't miss the site.<br> They put up the signs to help me find places that I'd never been<br> But I got lost, those signs were so small. Man, they were some kind of sin.</p> Chorus</p> Well hey now mister, can't you see?<br> You've got to be a peer of the realm to get seated.<br> You can't watch, no you can't eat.<br> You ain't supposed to be here.</p> And the sign says, "You have to have a waiver filled out to get on site.</p> And the sign says, if you've got court business, you're going to have to wait.<br> The heralds lost your paperwork and court's runnin' late.<br> So I got me a quill and some parchment, and I made out my own AOA<br> And when next I saw their Majesties, I just turned and went on my way.</p> Chorus<br> 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="104"> The Simple Joys of Maidenhood </p><font size=3> from the soundtrack of "Camelot" </b></i></p></p> Where are the simple joys of maidenhood?<br> Where are all those adoring, daring boys?<br> Where's the knight pining so for me<br> He leaps to death in woe for me?</p> Oh, where are a maiden's simple joys? <br> Shan't I have the normal life a maiden should?<br> Shall I never be rescued in the wood?<br> Shall two knights never tilt for me<br> And let their blood be spilt for me?<br> Oh, where are the simple joys of maidenhood?</p> Shall I not be on a pedestal,<br> Worshiped and competed for?<br> Not be carried off, or better still, <br> Cause a little war? <br> Are those sweet, gentle pleasures gone for good?</p> Shall a feud not begin for me?<br> Shall kith not kill their kin for me?<br> Oh, where are the trivial joys?<br> Harmless, convivial joys?<br> Where are the simple joys of maidenhood?</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="105"> Sitting 'Round the Fire </p><font size=3> filk: The Dawn of the Day by Steelye Span </b></i></p></p> As we sit round the fire in the twilight<br> As we wait for the coming of true night<br> We'll share a mug of ale<br> A sweet song or valiant tale<br> As we sit round the fire in the twilight</p> As the stars float above in the dark sky<br> We'll laugh and give cheer 'til the flames die<br> For there's nothing I desire <br> More than true friends round the fire<br> A thing gold and fine gems never will buy</p> As the moon rises over the tree line<br> A cup of your mead would do me fine<br> And a hundred songs we'll sing<br> For the memories that they bring<br> Like jewels brought to life from a dark mine</p> Now the fire has died down to an ember<br> And we feel the cold air of November<br> So we'll part to find our bed<br> Though we'd rather stay instead<br> For this night we will all long remember.</p> Now the darkness has upon us descended<br> The long busy day, it has ended<br> But we've good friends sitting round<br> And the songs and tales abound<br> Such a night leaves a broken heart mended.</p> As we sit round the fire in the twilight<br> As we wait for the coming of true night<br> We'll share a mug of ale<br> A sweet song or valiant tale<br> As we sit round the fire in the twilight.</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="106"> Skye Boat Song </p><font size=3> traditional </b></i></p></p> Chorus<br> Speed bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,<br> "Onward," the sailors cry!<br> Carry the lad that is born to be king,<br> Over the sea to Skye! </p> Loud the Winds howl, loud the waves roar,<br> Thunderclaps rend the air,<br> Baffled our foes stand on the shore,<br> Follow they will not dare.</p> Chorus </p> Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep,<br> Ocean's a royal bed;<br> Rocked in the deep, Flora will keep<br> Watch by your weary head.</p> Chorus </p> Many's the lad fought on that day<br> Well the claymore could wield<br> When the night came, silently lay<br> Dead on Culloden's field. </p> Chorus </p> Burned are our homes, exile and death<br> Scatter the loyal men<br> Yet e'er the sword cool in the sheath,<br> Charlie will come 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="107"> The Sleeping Scotsman </p><font size=3> by Bryan Bowers </b></i></p></p> Oh a Scotsman clad in kilt left the bar one evening fair<br> And one could tell by how he walked he'd drunk more than his share<br> He fumbled round til he could no longer keep his feet<br> Then he stumbled off unto the grass to sleep beside street. <br> Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, <br> Oh he stumbled off unto the grass to sleep beside the street. </p> Well about that time two young and lovely ladies happened by<br> And one said to the other, with a twinkle in her eye<br> "Oh see yon sleepy Scotsman, so strong and handsome built?" <br> "Well I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath their kilts."<br> Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, <br> "Oh I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath their kilts." </p> Well they snuck up to that sleeping Scotsman, quiet as could be<br> And they lifted up his kilt a little bit so they might see<br> And there before their startled eyes, beneath that Scottish skirt,<br> Was nothing more than God had graced him with upon his birth. <br> Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, <br> Was nothing more than God had graced him with upon his birth. </p> Well they marvelled for a moment, then one said, "We must be gone." Let's leave a present for our friend before we move along."<br> As a gift, they left a blue silk ribbon tied into a bow<br> Around the bonnie star the Scotsman's kilt did lift and show. <br> Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, <br> Around the bonnie star the Scotsman's kilt beneath did show. </p> Well the Scotsman woke to nature's call and stumbled towards a tree,<br> And as he lifted up his kilt, he gawks at what he sees, <br> And in a strangled voice, he says to what's before his eyes, <br> "I don't know where ye been, me lad, but I see ye took first prize!"<br> Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, <br> "I don't know where ye been, me lad, but I see ye took first prize!"</p> Our Scottish friend still dressed in kilt continued down the street, <br> He hadn't gone ten yards or more, when a girl he chanced to meet. <br> She said, "I've heard what's 'neath that kilt, tell me is it so." <br> He said, "Just put your hand up miss, if you'd really like to know."<br> Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, <br> He said, "Just put your hand up miss, if you'd really like to know." </p> She put her hand right up his kilt and much to her surprise, <br> The Scotsman smiled and a very strange look came into his eyes. <br> She said, "Why sir that's gruesome," and then she heard him roar, <br> "If you put your hand up once again you'll find it grew some more."<br> Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, <br> "If you put your hand up once again you'll find it grew some more."</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="108"> The Song of Roland </p><font size=3> by Roslinde Jehanne of Paradox Keep </b></i></p></p> The fairest flower of chivalry to bloom in all the land, And the noblest of all the Knights of Charlemagne...</p> Was Roland, Roland, King Charles' sister's son<br> Renowned through all the Frankish lands, for battles you have won.<br> In counsel hear ye Ganelon, make plea to go to war,<br> To aid the rebel Saracens, against their rightful Lord. </p> Roland, Roland, you call this plan ill made. <br> But none the less does Charlemagne agree to send them aid,<br> Then Ganelon requests you for the post most perilous,<br> And willingly do you accept as honor deems you must.</p> Roland, Roland, the rearguard you command.<br> With Oliver, your loyal friend to ride at your right hand<br> But at the vale of Rencesvals your doom is now aneigh,<br> The Saracens they hold the pass and will not let you by.</p> Roland, Roland, you know now you are betrayed.<br> But in your heart is courage and your voice is not afraid.<br> "Face we now grim battle, take there shields and raise them high,<br> With honor we have lived our lives, with honor we shall die."</p> Roland, Roland, sound your mighty horn<br> And try to call the men back that rode out just yestermorn<br> The King has heard your call afar, but Ganelon says "Nay,<br> Tis only our young Roland, out hunting on this day." </p> Roland, Roland sound your horn again.<br> As fierce the battle rages through the valley and the glen<br> Again the King has heard your call, again the traitor lies<br> And none shall come to aid you since your peril he denies.</p> Roland, Roland, sound your final blast.<br> As one by one your men-at-arms die fighting at the pass<br> And at the last is Oliver by swordsmen overthrown.<br> And ye of all the Frankish host now stand alone. </p> Roland, Roland, oh black the day you died!<br> Your comrades slain around you, your sword by your side.<br> They found you on the hilltop with your face turned towards the foe<br> And never has there been a day of such great woe.</p> Roland, Roland, your name will live in song.<br> Wherever brave men take up arms to right a mighty wrong.<br> The fairest flower of chivalry to bloom in all the land<br> And the noblest of all the Knights of Charlemagne.</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="109"> Song of the Shield Wall </p><font size=3> by Malkin Grey and Peregryn Wyndryder </b></i></p></p> Hasten, oh sea steed, over the swan road,<br> Foamy-necked ships o'er the froth of the sea!<br> Hengest has called us from Gotland and Frisia<br> To Vortigern's country his army to be.</p> We'll take our pay there in sweeter than silver<br> We'll take our plunder in richer than gold,<br> For Hengest has promised us land for our fighting,<br> Land for the sons of the Saxons to hold!</p> Hasten, oh fords-men, down to the river<br> Dragon-necked ships on the incoming tide!<br> The lindenwood shield and the old spear of ash wood<br> Are needed again at the cold waterside.</p> Draw up the shield wall, oh shoulder companions;<br> Later whenever our story is told,<br> They'll say that we died guarding what we hold dearest<br> Land for the sons of the Saxons to hold!</p> Hasten, oh huscarls, north to the Danelaw<br> Harald Hadrada's come over the sea!<br> His longships he's laden with berserks from Norway<br> To claim Canute's crown and our master to be!</p> Bitter he'll find here the bite of our spearpoints,<br> Hard-riling Northmen too proud to die old.<br> We'll grant him six feet, plus as much as he's taller<br> Of land that the sons of the Saxons will hold.</p> Hasten on southwards, strong son of Godwin<br> Triumph is sweet and your men have fought hard.<br> But William the Bastard has landed at Pevensey,<br> Burning the land you have promised to guard.</p> Draw up the spears on the hilltop at Hastings,<br> Fight 'til the sun drops and evening grows cold<br> And die with the last of your Saxons around you,<br> Holding the land you were given to hold!</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="110"> A Sonnet </p><font size=3> by Yaakov ha Mizarachi </b></i></p></p> "Written for my lady on a pleasant day in March..."</p> Spring suits her best. Though fair in any season,<br> It seems her beauty and her blushes blossom<br> Just after winter's rest. Is that the reason?<br> Her shining spirit, chilled by winter's gloom-<br> Perhaps doth sleep though winter's bitter night.<br> Then, warmed by gentler days and fragrant breezes,<br> Her shining smile awakes; its joyous light,<br> Bright in her blue eyes, dazzling as it pleases.<br> Or is it rather my own sense that sleeps,<br> Appreciation dulled by cold and dark?<br> My eye that dormant lies, as winter keeps <br> My heart in hibernation 'til spring's spark<br> Reveals what always lay before my eyes-<br> A love that ever blooms and never dies.</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="111"> The Spotted Cow </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> One morning in the month of May<br> As from my cot I strayed<br> Just at the dawning of the day<br> I met with a charming maid. <br> Just at the dawning of the day, <br> I met with a charming maid. </p> Good morning to you, whither? said I<br> Good morning to you new. <br> The maid replied, kind sir, she cried<br> I've lost me spotted cow. <br> The maid replied, kind sir, she cried<br> I've lost me spotted cow. </p> No longer weep, no longer mourn<br> Your cow's not lost my dear. <br> I saw her down in yonder grove<br> Come, love, I'll show you where. <br> I saw her down in yonder grove<br> Come, love, I'll show you where. </p> I must admit, you're very kind<br> I thank you sir, said she. <br> We will be sure her there to find<br> Come love and follow me. <br> We will be sure her there to find<br> Come love and follow me. </p> And in the grove they spent the day<br> They thought it passed too soon<br> At night they homeward bent their way,<br> While brightly shone the moon. <br> At night they homeward bent their way, <br> While brightly shone the moon. </p> Now if he should cross the flowery dale<br> Or go to view the plow<br> She comes and calls you gentle swain,<br> I've lost me spotted cow. <br> She comes and calls you gentle swain, <br> I've lost me spotted cow.</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="112"> Spring Strathspey </p><font size=3> By Gwidion </b></i></p></p> Myrddyn was playing his pipes in the wood<br> And it sounded so good to my feeling. <br> Hiree, hiroo stirred the dance in the blood<br> And my fresh maidenhood started reeling.</p> Chorus<br> Sweetly it drew me<br> The song that went through me,<br> As if sure it knew me <br> A maiden-song, laughing long.<br> I'm sure that I hear it, <br> Oh let me draw near it<br> I want to be merrily courted in spring.</p> Round us the trees formed a wheel in my mind<br> As if all womankind were careening<br> Softly he touched me, our hands intertwined<br> And we gently reclined in the clearing. </p> Chorus</p> Dew-fall to star-fall he made love to me<br> In a manner so free and revealing. <br> Swift-footed, light-footed goat-footed he<br> Played a sweet melody with such feeling. </p> Chorus</p> Daylight and I woke to spring's sweet bouquet<br> And a glorious day of beginning. <br> Myrddyn has gone on his magical way, <br> But the equinox day leaves me spinning.</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="113"> Staines Morris </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> Come ye young men, come along, <br> With your music, dance and song. <br> Bring your lassies in your hand<br> For 'tis that which love commands. </p> Chorus <br> Then to the maypole haste way<br> For 'tis now our holiday.</p> 'Tis the choice time of the year<br> And the violets now appear<br> And the rose receives it's birth<br> And the pretty primrose decks the Earth. </p> Chorus</p> And when you will reckoned have<br> What kisses you your sweetheart gave<br> Take them all again and more<br> It will never make them poor. </p> Chorus</p> When you lads have spent you time,<br> And the day is past its prime<br> To your beds restore at night<br> And dream there of your day's delight. </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="114"> Star of the County Down </p><font size=3> traditional </b></i></p></p> Near to Bainbridge town in the County Down<br> One morning last July<br> Down the boreen green came a fair colleen<br> And she smiled as she passed me by. </p> She looked so sweet from her two bare feet<br> To the crown of her nut-brown hair<br> Such a winsome elf, sure I shook myself <br> For to see I was really there. </p> Chorus<br> From Bantry Bay to Derry Quay<br> And from Galway to Dublin Town <br> No maid I've seen like the brown colleen,<br> That I met in the County Down. </p> As she onward sped, sure I scratched my head<br> And I gazed with a feeling rare<br> "I says," says I , to a passer-by, <br> "Who's that maid with the nut-brown hair? </p> He smiled at me, and with pride says he,<br> "That's the gem of Ireland's Crown,"<br> "Young Rosie McGann from the banks of the Bann<br> She's the star of the County Down." </p> Chorus </p> At the harvest fair she will surely be there<br> So I'll dress in my finest clothes, <br> For I'd wear sheep's hides and be crucified<br> For the heart of my nut-brown rose. </p> No pipe will I smoke; nor horse will I yoke<br> Though the plow turn a rust-colored brown<br> 'Til shining bright by my own fireside<br> Is the star of the County Down. </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="115"> Stranger in the Camp </p><font size=3> by Lord Giles O'Culzean<br> filk: Strangers in the Night </b></i></p></p> Stranger in the camp, so uninvited<br> Stranger in the camp, drunk and benighted<br> Stranger in the camp, unintroduced to you</p> Stranger in the camp, so unexpected<br> Stranger in the camp, lost and dejected<br> Stranger in the camp, passed out in bed with you</p> Stranger in the camp: is he expired?<br> Stranger in the camp: he claims that he's squired!<br> Now around his eyes, bands of tight skin glisten<br> Asks if you can help him find his red belt which has come up missin'</p> Stranger in the camp, he's been exiled<br> Stranger in the camp, no one defiled<br> Drunken victim or a tramp& Who was that stranger in the camp?</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="116"> Supercalafragalistic </p><font size=3> (filk) </b></i></p></p> Pillage, rape and loot and burn but all in moderation<br> If you do the things we say ten you'll soon rule the nation<br> Kill all of your enemies then kill all their relations<br> Pillage, rape and loot and burn but all in moderation!</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="t"> <a name="117"> The Tavern Song </p><font size=3> ©1996 by Ceara ni Neill </b></i></p></p> One evening in the winter<br> In a tavern that I know well<br> A man dressed in plaid, he smiled my way<br> And he said these words, these words to me:</p> Chorus<br> Lassie, will ye pass the mead?<br> Tis a gift of the gods and the wild honey-bee<br> To bring laughter and life to those who would drink<br> Won't ye come and have some, and have some with me?</p> His words, they warmed my racing heart<br> And with a smile, I did reply<br> Take me where ye will, I'll drink my fill<br> And I'll drink to you, to you besides.</p> Chorus</p> He took my hand, we walked by the riverside<br> The moonlight, it shone our way<br> Then he looked in my eyes at the rest of our lives<br> And I'll never, no never, never leave his side.</p> Chorus<br> 1/2 Chorus<br> To bring laughter & love to those who would drink<br> Won't ye come and have some, and have some with 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 color="#110000" LINK="#666666" VLINK="#003366"><b><i> <a name="118"> Temperance Union </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> We're coming, we're coming, our brave little band,<br> On the right side of temperance we do take our stand.<br> We don't use tobacco because we do think<br> That the people who use it are likely to drink.</p> Chorus<br> Away, away with rum, by gum,<br> With rum, by gum, with rum, by gum!<br> It's the song of the Temperance Union!</p> We never eat fruitcake because it has rum,<br> And one little bite turns a man to a bum.<br> Can you imagine a sorrier sight <br> Than a man eating fruitcake until he gets tight?</p> Chorus</p> We never eat cookies, they make them with yeast,<br> And one little bite turns a man to a beast.<br> Can you imagine such a sorry disgrace,<br> As a man in the gutter with crumbs on his face?</p> We never drink Coke 'cause it's made from cocaine,<br> And you night as well shoot it right into your vein.<br> Can you imagine a sorrier bind <br> Than rotting your teeth while blowin' your mind?</p> Chorus</p> We never drink tea 'cause it comes from a pot<br> And that could be evil as likely as not<br> We don't mind the taste, but it's really bad news,<br> To get busted for holding what Tom Lipton brews.</p> Chorus</p> We don't step on grapes because that's making wine,<br> And one single stomp turns a man into swine.<br> Can you imagine a fouler defeat,<br> Than a man getting schnockered by licking his feet?</p> Chorus</p> Shun girls who are witty and pretty and kind.<br> There's nothing like love for corrupting your mind.<br> At least in our circle, it just isn't done<br> Our kids are adopted. We never have fun!</p> Chorus</p> So drinking and eating and loving, you see,<br> Are bound to destroy spirituality.<br> Our tastes are austere and our virtue is sure.<br> We don't have much fun, but our honor is pure.</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="119"> Thank God I'm a Nobleman </p><font size=3> Filk: Thank God I'm A Country Boy (Missing chorus and a word or two. If you can fill in the blanks, please e-mail me!) </b></i></p></p> <br> Chorus (-?-)</p> I go out to fight for my King and Queen<br> When the battle comes around I can't be seen.<br> Rather keep my brand new armor clean.<br> Thank God I'm a nobleman!</p> Chorus</p> Well my Baron calls me up as a man-at-arms<br> Says "Glory's on the field and not on the farm."<br> Rather have the glories of my lady's charm.<br> Thank God I'm a nobleman!</p> Chorus</p> Well a lot of folks think I'm a fighting fool<br> But I think that the reveling is far more cool<br> An wench is the lap beats a sword in the (-?-)<br> Thank God I'm a nobleman!</p> Chorus</p> Well my friends all tell me that at this rate<br> That a crosssbow wedding's gonna be my fate<br> But I don't care, I can dodge just great<br> Thank God I'm a nobleman! </p> Chorus</p> Well I know you all think from my song tonight<br> That all I like to do is to wench and to fight<br> Well all I can say is you're prob'ly right.<br> Thank God I'm a nobleman! </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="121"> There's Me A Lassie </p><font size=3> ©2001 by Ceara ni Neill </b></i></p></p> Oh, I have a story to tell <br> So all ye, listen well:<br> There s nothing so striking<br> As a handsome Viking<br> Sayin there s me a lassie now!</p> He swept me off my feet<br> And gave me a dram to drink<br> He laid on the charm<br>  Til I fell in his arms<br> Sayin there s me a lassie now!</p> So he raises his sword on high<br> And swears for my honor to fight<br> And ne er will he yield<br> By the Wolf on his shield<br> Sayin there s me a lassie now!</p> His name and his honor I ll hold<br> And he ll live on in stories of old<br> I ll stand by his side<br> And his children, with pride<br> Sayin here is your lassie now! </p> I ll stand by his side<br> And his children, with pride<br> Sayin here is your lassie now!</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="123b"> Traveler's Tale </p><font size=3> ©2001 by Ceara ni Neill </b></i></p></p> Warm the day and cool the night<br> In the land I travelled fair<br> Naught did I know of my plight<br> And the love I would find there</p> Soft he spoke and sweet he sang<br> Close we held those starry nights<br> And the bells they loudly rang <br> And we danced til morning's light</p> Then we parted for a spell<br> To seek friends and all my kin<br> I to make my fond farewells<br> Not to see them e'er again.</p> There were bandits at the quay<br> And my carraige did capsize<br> They upon me had their way<br> Then did Death come rest my eyes</p> Go, my lover, do not weep<br> Have my blessing and my kiss<br> Find another for to keep<br> So that you may not me miss</p> Warm the day and cool the night<br> In the land I travelled fair<br> Now my soul it travels light<br> For the love of one that's there.</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="121b"> Three Blind Laurels </p><font size=3> by Symon d'Auvergne filk: Three Blind Mice </b></i></p></p> Three blind laurels<br> Three blind laurels<br> See how they judge<br> See how they judge<br> They all ran up to the Queen one night<br> And altered her gown with a carving knife<br> Have you ever seen such a sight in your life <br> As three blind laurels?</p> (repeat ad nauseum)</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="122b"> Too Much of a Good Thing </p><font size=3> By Peggy Seeger </b></i></p></p> On a Monday night he came to my door<br> And he made such a din<br> Get up, get up you darling girl<br> And let your lover come in. <br> Well I got up and I let him in<br> And on me he did fall<br> It was five o'clock in the morning<br> Before I got any sleep at all.</p> On Tuesday night he came to my door<br> The joys of love to tend<br> Get up, get up, you darling girl<br> Before I go' round the bend. <br> Well I got up and I let him in<br> And in my arms he lay<br> I had to hear the stroke of four<br> Before he'd go away. </p> On Wednesday night he came to my door<br> A little late in time<br> I'd have been here sooner, you darling girl, <br> But the hill's so hard to climb. <br> I hadn't been long all in his arms<br> Before he let me be<br> Then out of the house and down the road<br> Just after the stroke of three. </p> On Thursday night he came to my door <br> So weary and so slow<br> Oh, give me a drink, you darling girl<br> And then to work we'll go. <br> Well all night long he fought with it<br> But I had to help him through<br> And I heard him sigh as he rose to go, <br> It's only after two. </p> On Friday night he came to my door <br> Shaking in every limb <br> Get up, get up you darling girl<br> Get up and carry me in. <br> Well I got up and I carried him in <br> And gently laid him down<br> But hardly could his spirits rise<br> To reach the stroke of one. </p> On Saturday night he came to my door,<br> He came on his hands and knees<br> Oh, don't come down, you darling girl,<br> Stay home and let me be. <br> Well I got up and I let him in<br> But he fell down in a swoon<br> And though often I tried to raise him up <br> He lay 'til Sunday noon.</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="122"> Traditions </p><font size=3> By Robert Fitzmorgan, Barony of Northkeep </b></i></p></p> If ever you should visit Ansteorra one fine day<br> We'd hope to make you welcome, and that you enjoy your stay. <br> But if you wonder at our customs, what to do and what to say, <br> Perhaps this rhyme of mine will help to ease your way. </p> Etiquette in Ansteorra really isn't all that tough. <br> Simple courtesy and manners will do you well enough. <br> But if you want to do things right, as one who knows the score, <br> Then you must prepare a bit and learn a little more. </p> We bow before our king and queen as all good subjects do<br> But when we pass the empty thrones we bow before them too.<br> The Crown of Ansteorra is itself held in renown. <br> We do honor to the office and the one beneath the crown. </p> When from time to time we are called before the thrones<br> An Ansteorran need not set aside the steel he owns. <br> Our Crowns have naught to fear from us, a man may freely bring<br> Such weapons as he carries when he comes before the king. </p> When the day is ending and we're gathered for the feast<br> And we all sit down together from the greatest to the least<br> Before you lift your glass in toast and drink a good drought down<br> Remember by tradition the first toast is to the Crown. </p> When a presentation's made or an award is given out<br> And to show support the populace is inclined to give a shout<br> We do not shout Huzzah! here, we don't shout Hip, Hip, Hurray! <br> When we want to show approval, Vivat's the word to say. </p> The heralds can explain how awards work in our land. <br> And if you want to know our combat rules there are marshals close at hand. <br> My intention was to clarify a courtly rule or two<br> So that when you come to visit you'll know just what to do. </p> Each kingdom does things it's own way and this is for the best<br> Each land has it's own history, each different from the rest. <br> The differences between us run deeper than our name<br> But then our world would be much poorer if each kingdom were the same.</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="123"> The Trapper </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> An old farmer was sitting outside his cottage one day, watching the grass grow, when a young peasant boy came by carrying a bundle of wire. The farmer called out, "Wherefore the wire, boy?"</p> The lad replied, "This isn't plain wire, it's chicken wire. I'm off to catch chickens for the kings' table." The farmer said, "Silly boy, you can't catch chickens with chicken wire!"</p> The boy ignored him and went on his way. Several hours later he returned carrying a dozen chickens all bound in the chicken wire. The farmer scratched his head, amazed, but said nothing.</p> The next day, the farmer noticed the boy passing by again, this time carrying several rolls of tape. He called out, "Wherefore the tape, boy?"</p> The lad replied, "This isn't plain tape, it's duck tape. I'm off to catch ducks for the kings' table."</p> The farmer said, "Silly boy, you can't catch ducks with duck tape!" The boy ignored him and went on his way. Several hours later he returned carrying a several ducks all bound in the duck tape.</p> The farmer scratched his head, even more amazed, but still said nothing.</p> The next day the farmer saw him yet again, carrying a stick. "Whither with the stick, boy?" called the farmer. "This isn't a plain stick, it's a pussy willow," explained the boy.</p> Saith the farmer without hesitation, "Wait, let me get my hat..."</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="123b"> Traveler's Tale </p><font size=3> ©2001 by Ceara ni Neill </b></i></p></p> Warm the day and cool the night<br> In the land I travelled fair<br> Naught did I know of my plight<br> And the love I would find there</p> Soft he spoke and sweet he sang<br> Close we held those starry nights<br> And the bells they loudly rang <br> And we danced til morning's light</p> Then we parted for a spell<br> To seek friends and all my kin<br> I to make my fond farewells<br> Not to see them e'er again.</p> There were bandits at the quay<br> And my carraige did capsize<br> They upon me had their way<br> Then did Death come rest my eyes</p> Go, my lover, do not weep<br> Have my blessing and my kiss<br> Find another for to keep<br> So that you may not me miss</p> Warm the day and cool the night<br> In the land I travelled fair<br> Now my soul it travels light<br> For the love of one that's there.</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="124"> The Twelfth Knight </p><font size=3> by Duke Sir John the Bearkiller </b></i></p></p> Twelve knights they rode upon the land, <br> On horses strong and lean<br> Eleven belts were old and grim<br> The twelfth was young and green.</p> The youngest knight was newly made<br> Eldon was his name<br> He traveled with the elder men<br> To earn both blade and fame.</p> Barely tall and eighteen years<br> Sworn new to belt and chain, <br> He strived to all, like these men,<br> And live as evil's bane.</p> They tired then, as sunset came<br> And shelter now, their quest<br> Into a peasant's yard they rode<br> And demanded all the best.</p> Eldon watched as the peasants bowed<br> And hurried to and fro<br> To serve the noble knights requests<br> And ward away their blows.</p> Eldon could not understand<br> How the treatment was deserved;<br> To beat the peasants, these lowly folk,<br> Who had only meant to serve.</p> A comely daughter of the house<br> Was grabbed and tossed about.<br> Her brother tried to stay their hands<br> Was beaten, called a lout.</p> Eldon stood and drew his sword<br> And as he freed the maid,<br> Knocked down Sir Karl and said quite low,<br> "The next one tastes my blade."</p> "How can you, all sworn to truth<br> Treat this kindness such?<br> Perhaps you've taught me all too well<br> For I find this way too much.</p> "I'll take my sword and leave you now<br> To find my chivalry<br> For noble birth is no excuse <br> For lies and hypocrisy."</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="125"> Two Magicians </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> She looked out of the window, as white as any milk<br> And he looked in at the window as black as any silk. </p> Chorus<br> Hello, hello, hello, hello, you coal black smith<br> You have done me no harm<br> But you never shall have my maidenhead<br> That I have kept so long. <br> I'd rather die a maid, ah, but then she said, <br> And be buried all in my grave, <br> Than to have such a nasty, husky, dusky, fusky, musky, coal black smith; <br> A maiden I will die. </p> She became a duck<br> A duck all on the stream<br> And he became a water dog<br> And fetched her back again. </p> She became a star<br> A star all in the night<br> And he became a thunder-cloud <br> And muffled her out of sight. </p> Chorus</p> She became a rose, <br> A rose all in the wood<br> And he became a bumble bee<br> And kissed here where she stood. </p> Chorus</p> She became a nun<br> A nun all dressed in white<br> And he became a canting priest<br> And prayed for her by night. </p> Chorus</p> She became a trout, <br> A trout all in the brook<br> And he became a feathered fly<br> And catched her with his hook. </p> Chorus</p> She became a corpse<br> A corpse all in the ground<br> And he became the cold clay <br> And smothered her all around.</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="u"> <a name="126"> The Unquiet Grave </p><font size=3> by Thomas Bordeaux </b></i></p></p> The wind doth blow today my love <br> And a few small drops of rain <br> I never had but one true love <br> In a cold grave she was lain. </p> I'll do as much for my true love <br> As any young man may <br> I'll sit and mourn all at her grave <br> For a twelve month and a day. </p> The twelfth month and a day being up <br> The dead began to speak <br> Saying, "Who sits weeping on my grave<br> And will not let me sleep?" </p> 'Tis I my love sits on your grave<br> And will not let you sleep <br> For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips <br> And that is all I seek. </p> You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips <br> But my breath smells earthly strong. <br> If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips, <br> Your time will not be long. </p> It's down in yonder garden green<br> Love, where we used to walk <br> The finest flower that e'er was seen <br> Has withered to a stalk </p> The stalk has withered dry, my love<br> So will our hearts decay. <br> So make yourself content, my love <br> 'Til God calls you away. </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="v"> <a name="127"> The Viking's Christmas Carol </p><font size=3> by Guy Bradley<br> filk: T'was the Night Before Christmas </b></i></p></p> Twas the night before Christmas and all through the hall<br> Not a creature was stirring, not warrior nor thrall.</p> The Vikings lay scattered about on the floor<br> With visions of pillaging, looting, and more.</p> And I in my curaiss, my greaves and my helm<br> Was drunker than anyone else in the realm.</p> I fell up the stairs and collapsed into bed<br> While four quarts of mead were ablaze in my head.</p> When down from below came the sounds of a brawl,<br> So I grabbed up my axe and ran down to the hall.</p> I missed the last step and crashed down in a heap,<br> Thinking "Why can't those lowlifes downstairs go to sleep!"</p> When what to my hungover eyes should appear<br> But two brawny strangers with mallet and spear.</p> I said to myself, "We'll soon have them beat" When I noticed ten warriors laid out at their feet.</p> I let out a yell and leapt into the fray.<br> I'll always regret the poor choice that I made.</p> The one laid his hammer up the side of my nose,<br> And up, up, up to the rafters I rose.</p> Then came a lone, frightened voice from the floor,<br> "Those are no mortal warriors, that's Odin and Thor!"</p> They looked at each other. They said, "Battle's done."<br> Now they know who we are, it is no longer fun.</p> Thor raised his hammer, his elbow he bent<br> And with a loud crash, through the ceiling they went.</p> I crawled though the hall and flung open the door<br> Not sure that I really had seen them before.</p> With the snow bathed in starlight, the moon like a gleed<br> I saw them ride off on an eight-legged steed.</p> And I heard them exclaim as they rode out of sight, <br> "To hell with Christmas, we just love a good fight!"</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="128"> Vivat, the Dream! </p><font size=3> by Warjina Waleska Katzjmjr<br> ©1992 Varina Suellen Plonski </b></i></p></p> The Known Worlde remembers mid laughter and tears<br> The dream we've been dreaming for twenty-five years<br> And in celebration, we gather as then<br> To be certain the Dream comes alive once again</p> Chorus<br> So sing "Vivat! The Dream!" May it live long<br> In hearts and in poetry, story and song<br> For all men need a dream, as we all ken<br> And each time that we gather, we dream it again.</p> Oh chivalry, courtesy, honors and love<br> Are ideals that we cherish, all others above <br> Ideals are a fire in the hearts of all men<br> And each time that we gather, we live it again.</p> Each Lord needs a Lady to strengthen his arm<br> Each Lady a Lord for to keep her from harm<br> Tis love and the Dream bring together all men<br> And each time that we gather, we live it again</p> The Known Worlde remembers mid laughter and tears<br> The dream we've been dreaming for twenty-five years<br> And in celebration, we gather as then<br> To be certain the Dream comes alive once again</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="w"> <a name="129"> The Wager </p><font size=3> </b></i></p></p> My lady and her maid<br> Upon a merry pin<br> They made a match at farting<br> Who should the wager win. </p> Joan lights three candles then,<br> And sets them bolt upright<br> With the first fart she blew them out<br> With the next she gave them light. </p> In comes my lady then, <br> With all her might and main<br> And blew them out<br> And in and out<br> And in and out again.</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="130"> Wearin' of the Green </p><font size=3> traditional </b></i></p></p> Oh Paddy dear did you hear the news that's goin' round<br> The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground<br> St. Patrick's day no more we'll keep, his color can't be seen<br> For there's a cruel law agin' the wearin' of the green</p> I met with Napper Tandy and he took me by the hand<br> And he said, "How's poor old Ireland, and how does she stand?"<br> She's the most distressful country that ever you have seen<br> They're hangin' men and women there for wearin' of the green</p> Then since the color we must wear, is England's cruel red<br> Sure Ireland's sons will ne'er forget the blood that they have shed<br> You may take the shamrock from your hat, and cast it in the sod<br> But 'twill take root and flourish still, tho' underfoot 'tis trod</p> When the law can stop the blades of grass from growin' as they grow<br> And when the leaves in summertime their verdure dare not show<br> Then I will change the color I wear in my Caubeen<br> But 'till that day, I'll stick for aye to wearin' of the green</p> But if at last our color should be torn from Ireland's heart<br> Her sons with shame and sorrow from the dear old soil will part<br> I've heard whisper of a country that lies far beyond the say<br> Where rich and poor stand equal, in the light of freedom's day</p> Oh, Erin must we leave you, driven by the tyrant's hand<br> Must we ask a mother's welcome from a strange but happy land<br> Where the cruel cross of England's thralsdom never shall be seen<br> And where, in peace, we'll live and die, a-wearin' of the 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="131"> Welsh History 101 </p><font size=3> by Heather Rose Jones<br> filk: The Ash Grove </b></i></p></p> If ever you wander out by the Welsh border<br> Come stop by and see me and all of my kin.<br> I'm Morgan ap Dafydd ap Gwion ap Hywell<br> Ap Ifor ap Madoc ap Rhodri ap Gwyn.</p> We'll feast you on mutton and harp for your pleasure<br> And give you a place to sleep out of the cold<br> Or maybe we'll meet you out on the dark roadway<br> And rob you of horses and weapons and gold.</p> My neighbor from England has come across raiding <br> Slain six of my kinsmen and burned down my hall.<br> It cannot be borne, this offense, this injustice!<br> I've only killed four of his, last I recall.</p> I'll send for my neighbors, Llewellyn and Owain<br> We'll cut him down as for the border he rides!<br> But yesterday Owain stole three of my cattle<br> So first I'll retake them and three more besides.</p> We need a strong prince to direct our resistance <br> Heroic, impartial, of noble degree.<br> My brother's wife's fourth cousin's foster son Gruffydd<br> Is best for the job, as I'm sure you'll agree.</p> What matter that Rys is the old prince's nephew?<br> He's sailed off to Ireland and will not return.<br> I know this for every time boats he is building<br> I send my spies money to see that they burn.</p> Yes, we are just plain folk who mind our own business<br> Honest and loyal and full of good cheer<br> So if ever you wander out by the Welsh border <br> Come stop by and see all the friendly folk here.</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="132"> When the Ale Runs Out </p><font size=3> by Dietrich von Greyssen </b></i></p></p> I woke up this morning, trying to get up<br> I've quite a headache,<br> Reach for my cup<br> I look in horror with a disbelieving blink<br> I've just discovered I'm all out of drink!</p> Chorus<br> What do you do when you run out of ale?<br> Do you cry, sigh, yell, or turn pale?<br> What do you do when you run out of ale<br> You run to the tavern and drink down another!</p> Chorus</p> Just finished fighting, swashbuckling too, <br> And as hot as it is, I'm beginning to stew.<br> My throat is so dry I'm dying of thirst<br> But my opponent has beaten me and drank it all first! </p> Chorus</p> I'm now hearing stories, poets, and song<br> I never realized it would take so long! <br> Still I stand attentive, my goblet in hand<br> But it's just like me, dry as the land! </p> Chorus</p> They're still telling stories, but it's now late at night.<br> The fire's died low and I'm seeing this sight.<br> Everyone's sleeping, but I'm burning mad<br> Because after searching, there's no ale to be had! </p> Chorus</p> I'm falling fast now, into deep sleep and trance<br> And thelast thing I remember that catches my glance<br> Is my empty old tankard from which flows never a drop<br> Will someone please make my ale-less dreams stop!</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="133"> The Wild Rover </p><font size=3> traditional </b></i></p></p> I've been a wild rover for many a year,<br> And I've spent all my money on whiskey and beer<br> But now I'm returning with gold in great store<br> And never will play the wild rover no more.</p> Chorus<br> And it's no, nay, never<br> No nay never, no more <i>(right up yer kilt!)</i><br> Will I play the rover.<br> No never, no more.</p> I went to an ale house I used to frequent,<br> And I told the landlady my money was spent.<br> I asked her for credit, she answered me nay<br> Such custom like yours I could have any day.</p> Chorus</p> I took from my pocket ten sovereigns bright<br> And the landlady's eyes opened wide with delight.<br> She said, "I have whiskeys and wines of the best,<br> And I'll take you upstairs and show you the rest."</p> Chorus</p> I'll go home to my parents, confess what I've done,<br> And I'll ask them to pardon their prodigal son.<br> And if they caress me as oft times before,<br> I never will play the wild rover no more!</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="133b"> With Honor Clear </p><font size=3> by <a href="mailto:tomrichard@bizec.rr.com">Alvero Diogo</a> </b></i></p></p> My heart pours out upon this page, to Atlantia so fair<br> And to the one who on this day<br> With lordly might<br> Shall earn the right<br> To the Crown with honor clear</p> But first the blood will start to flow and the ladies' tears<br> The clash and crash of weapons ring<br> As many fight <br> For the right<br> To the Crown with honor clear</p> A warrior knows Death's boney grip is always terribly near<br> And only one shall shine today<br> Burning bright<br> With the right<br> To the Crown with honor clear</p> So to the one who stands his ground and fights without a fear<br> I shall serve with reverence and with song<br> I bow to your might<br> Your noble right<br> To the Crown with honor clear</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="134"> The Witch, the Bagge and the Bishop </p><font size=3> from Handlyng Synne </b></i></p></p> There was a witch, and she made a bagge<br> A belly of leather, a great swagge</p> She conjured this belly bagge<br> That it went and sucked mans cattle<br> At evening and at the morning time<br> In their pasture, or else where beside</p> Long it went about and faste<br> Until it was perceived at the laste. </p> Then all goode men of the towne, <br> Before the bishop did her summon<br> They did also bear the bagge with her <br> To see what she would answer to. </p> It was shown before the bishop<br> How she got such a milk-sop</p> Through witchcraft and misadventure, <br> To suck their cattle in their pasture. <br> The bishop marveled and the others did more<br> That how she might make the bagge go</p> Dame, said the bishop do thy conjuring<br> And let us see how it shall ryse</p> This witch here did a charm begin to seye<br> The bagge rose up and began to move<br> The bishop "This we have seen; <br> Do it now, to lye still again." </p> The witch did alle at hys will<br> She made the bagge again, stand still. </p> The bishop made the clerk to write<br> All she said, and did, in detail. <br> And all how she made the bagge here go. <br> The bishop then got the written extract</p> Then said the bishop "Now shall I <br> As thou has done do thy conjuring." </p> The bishop began the charme to read.<br> And as she did, he did indeed<br> He said and did in every detail<br> Right as she did he did as welle. </p> The bagge stayed as still, it did not move<br> For him it rose not off the floor. </p> Why! He cried, does it not rise? <br> I have done all your little ways. <br> And said the words, no less or more<br> Why will it not leave the floor? </p> I've conjured just as you would do<br> Why for me will it not move? </p> Nay said she, why should it move? <br> You do not believe it will as I do! <br> Would you believe the words as I do<br> And it will go and suck a cow</p> He said "Then all I faileth in is faith?" <br> She said "That helpeth all my works!" </p> And so it is oure lawe, <br> Belief is more than the sawe<br> For thou may'st say what thou wilt<br> But if thou believe it, or else is all spilt.</p> Alle that I said I believe it well! <br> My belief hath done the deed in all detail</p> The bishop commanded that she should not <br> Believe the work that she had wrought. <br> And as such made an end on it. </p> Here now we wyte believe will make<br> There the words no might may take. </p> The bishop sayde the words each one<br> But believe therein had he known<br> No more shall it avail thee<br> That believest not there where belief should be.</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="135"> Woad of Harlech </p><font size=3> filk: Men of Harlech </b></i></p></p> What's the use of wearing braces,<br> Hats or spats or shoes with laces<br> Vest and pants you buy in places<br> Down on Broughampton Road?</p> What the use of shirts of cotton <br> Studs that always get forgotten<br> These affairs are simply rotten,<br> Better far is woad!</p> Woad's the suff to show men,<br> Woad to scare your foemen!<br> Boil it to a brilliant blue<br> And rub it on you legs and abdomen!</p> Ancient Britons never hit on<br> Anything as good as woad to fit on<br> Necks or knees or where you sit on,<br> Tailors, you'd be blowed!</p> Romans came across the Channel<br> All dressed up in tin and flannel<br> Half a pint of woad per man-o<br> Clothed us more than these!</p> Saxons, you may save your stitches<br> Building beds for bugs in britches.<br> We have woad to clothe us which is<br> Not a nest for fleas.</p> Romans, keep your armors,<br> Saxons, your pajamas!<br> Hairy coats were made for goats<br> Gorillas, yaks, retriever dogs and llamas!</p> March on, Snowdon, with your woad on<br> Never mind if you get rained or snowed on<br> Never need a button sewed on, <br> Good for us today!</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></table> <hr> <center> <a href="http://HouseBarra.com">Home</a> | <a href="/PastTimes/">PastTimes on the Web</a> | <a href="/AnS/">Ceara's Arts & Sciences Resources</a> <br> <a href="/clipart/">Ceara's Mostly Medieval Clipart</a> | <a href="/bard/">Bardic Resources</a> | <a href="/Alex/">Alex's Page</a> | <a href="/webrings/">Webrings</a> </center> </center> </BODY> </HTML>