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Advice to Ladies
©1995 by Morgan Wolfsinger mka Catherine Demott Come all ye fine ladies and listen to me If you think maid or lover is acting too free If suspicions arouse and there is many a clue Just pray it's a woman and not, say, a ewe. Chorus And it's men, men, drink to the men Drain mug or goblet, and raise it again. Although they are trouble they're still one in ten It's worth every minute, so drink to the men. Oh men are strange critters, and given to lust, And rare is the one who is worthy of trust. When love is concerned in such matters one knows, They're best led around by the balls, not the nose. Chorus Now if you find out that his love is a sheep, Don't worry , she's warm and she's easy to keep. She'll not ask for diamonds or rubies or wine, And served up with mint sauce she'll taste mighty fine. Chorus If he looks for too long now, and boys are his choice, Don't cry them out fool, lass, stand up and rejoice. His new lighter love might be manly and fair And if you ask sweetly then maybe he'll share. Chorus If his heart's desire seems really quite young In fact at an age where a lullaby is sung Just send off a note the town constable's way Then smile, give her cookies and send her to play. Chorus Now should your love's taste run to leather and chains Jelly and butter and other things strange If such does amuse you then join in the fun If not see that he is the receiving one. Chorus If worse comes to worse, now, and he's his own love Don't send up your cries to the heavens above Just dust off his clothes, give his mirror a shine And you and his ego will get along fine. Chorus If you've found no comfort in what I have said, You're tired of his quirks and you wish he was dead. Don't slice up your lover, for murder's a crime Just find you another and have a good time. Chorus | |
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Anne Boleyn Song
In the Tower of London large as life, The ghost of Anne Boleyn walks, they declare Poor Anne Boleyn was once King Henry's wife, Until he made the headsman bob her hair Ah, yes, he did her wrong long years ago And she comes out at night to tell him so.... Chorus With her head, tucked, underneath her arm, She walks the bloody tower With her head, tucked, underneath her arm At the midnight hour She's come to haunt King Henry, She means giving him what for Gadzooks, she's going to tell him off For spilling all her gore, And just in case the headsman wants to give her an encore She has her head tucked underneath her arm Chorus Sometimes gay King Henry gives a spread For all his Earls and churls a ghostly fun The headsman carves the joint and cuts the bread Til Anne Boleyn comes in to spoil the run She holds her head up with a wild war hoop! And Henry cries "Don't drop it in the soup!" Chorus One night she found King Henry, He was in the Canteen Bar Said he "Are you Jane Seymore, Anne Boleyn, or Katherine Parr? How the sweet St. Parian do I know who you are? With your head tucked underneath your arm?" Chorus | |
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Artan's Toy
by Ceara ni Neill mka Alexandria Long filk: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer Good Lord Artan MacDarach Had a very big ego And if you ever saw him, He would say that he had grown! He liked to build big toys, So he built a trebusche. Thought he could hurl some TP When he brought it out to play. Then one winter solstice eve Lord Stephen set us right. "Lord Artan let that TP fly, It hit my helm and was not light!" Then all the fighters cheered him, And we shouted out with glee. "Well," said Artan MacDarach, "That's medieval history." | |
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Auchindoon
traditional
As I came 'pon Finnachside, all on a May morning I saw Willie McIntosh, as the cocks were crowing. Chorus 1 Turn ye McIntosh, turn again I bid thee If you burn Auchindoon, Huntley he will head thee Head me or hang me, that well ne're frighten me I''ll burn Auchindoon, e're my life shall leave me. As I came 'pon Auchindoon, all on a May morning Auchindoon was burning, as the cocks were crowing. Chorus 2 Burning, burning, Auchindoon was burning For Huntley had killed Murrey all on a May morning Head me or hang me, that will ne're frighten me I'll burn Auchindoon, e're my life shall leave me. As I came 'pon Cairn Coon, all on a May morning I saw Willie McIntosh, amidst the town a burning. Chorus 2 (slower) Bonnie Willie McIntosh, where have ye left your fine young men? I've left them down at Stapley Gate and they will ne're come home again. Chorus 1 | |
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Beowolf
(the childrens' version) by Rathfled DuNoir, the Black Bard of Meridies See Grendel. See Grendel eat. Eat, Grendel, eat. Grendel is eating a few Danish for breakfast. Grendel especially likes the ones with the yellow coating on top. This is good because there are many of them. Yummy! See Hrothgar. He is sad. Sad, sad, sad. His warriors are leaving. They are sad because Grendel has eaten many of their friends. They do not want to play with Grendel anymore because Grendel is mean. Hrothgar is also sad because his food is almost gone. Grendel eats the cows and pigs and horsies, too. Grendel is very hungry. Eat, Grendel, eat. Hrothgar is also sad because his wife sill not stop complaining. Whine, wife, whine. Hrothgar has tried to stop listening to her for three days now. Drink, Hrothgar, drink. Hrothgar is almost out of mead. Poor Hrothgar. O see Beowulf. He is big and strong and handsome. He has long Viking braids and pointy horns on his hat and a really big sword. Ooh, Beowulf, ooh! He is sailing to Denmark to visit Hrothgar. Sail, Beowulf, sail. He does not know that Hrothgar is almost out of mead. Poor Beowulf. Beowulf likes to sail. Beowulf likes to drink even more. Poor Beowulf. When he gets to Denmark, there is enough mead left for one feast. Poor Beowulf. Poor Hrothgar. Poor Warriors. Poor Grendel. Beowulf is very mad. Mad, mad, mad. Beowulf vows to slay Grendel. Vow, Beowulf, vow. He promises to do many great feats. He swears to return with Grendel's head. Drink, Beowulf, drink. Beowulf is lying very still. Is he waiting to surprise Grendel? No, he is not waiting to surprise Grendel. Is he meditating? No, he is not meditating. Is he practicing an Arcane magical ritual involving a lawn chair, six milk bottles and a tuning fork? No, he is unconscious. Won't he be surprised when he wakes up and they tell him about his promises? Won't he be happy to know that he has a quest? Won't he feel grand when the warriors cheer him? No, Beowulf will not feel grand for a while. He has a headache. Poor Beowulf. Please stop cheering, warriors. O see the castle. It is very quiet. Is it quiet because everyone is afraid of Grendel? No, it is not quiet because everyone is afraid of Grendel. Is it quiet because everyone is afraid of Beowulf? Yes, it is quiet because everyone is afraid of Beowulf. Beowulf has had a very bad headache for three days. Last night, Beowulf's head hurt so much that he was very mad. Mad, mad, mad. Grendel came over to play and made too much noise. Beowulf was very upset. Beowulf was so upset that he ripped Grendel's arm off and hung it over the door. Poor Grendel. Poor warriors. Smile at Beowulf. Just do it quietly. O see the feast hall. It is bright and cheery. There is food on the tables and mead in the horns and a great big arm over the door. They are singing and laughing and drinking. Are they happy that Grendel is dead? Yes, they are happy that Grendel is dead. Are they happy that they can laugh and sing and play again? Yes, they are happy that they can laugh and sing and play again. But most of all they are happy that there is more mead. Drink, Beowulf, drink. O see Hrothgar. He is happy. Happy, happy, happy. Is he happy that Grendel is dead? Is he happy that there is more mead? Yes, but he is mostly happy because his wife has stopped complaining. Smile, Hrothgar, smile. O see Grendel's mother. She is sad. Sad, sad, sad. Is she sad because Grendel is gone? Is she sad because her other children never call? Is she sad because the Angels are losing again? Yes, she is sad because of all these things. But she is mostly sad because she won't get any more mother's day presents. This makes her mad. Mad, mad, mad. She gets so mad that she decides to have some Danish for dessert. That is silly. Everyone knows that you are supposed to have Danish for breakfast. Silly, silly, silly. In fact it is so silly that we think that Grendel's mother may have had something besides food for dinner. We think that Grendel's mother may have been drinking. Just like Beowulf. O see Beowulf. Now that there is mead again he is drinking some more. Drink, Beowulf, drink. When Grendel's mother comes to the feast, Beowulf has already drunk quite a bit. So has Grendel's mother. He thinks she is the most beautiful woman in the world and makes a pass at her. Pass, Beowulf, pass. She is caught off guard and says no. Tease, monster, tease. Beowulf tries again. She leaves and he goes home with her. Grendel's mother was never heard from again. Beowulf was very quiet about the whole situation. Quiet, quiet, quiet. The End. | |
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The SCA Happy Birthday Song,
otherwise known as the Birthday Dirge filk: The Volga Boatmen Chorus after every verse: Happy Birthday! (UHH!) Happy Birthday! (UHH!) |
1. Death and gloom and black despair People dying everywhere 2. May the candles on your cake Burn like cities in your wake 3. Fear and gloom and darkness yet No one found out you know what 4. You're a period cook, its true Ask the beetles in the stew 5. Now your jail-bait days are done Let's go out and have some fun! 6. Were I sitting in your shoes I'd go out and sing the blues 7. Now you've lived another year Age to you is like stale beer 8. Long ago your hair turned grey Now it's falling out, they say 9. Indigestion's what you get From the enemies you 'et 10. This one lesson you must learn FIRST you pillage, THEN you burn 11. While you eat your birthday stew We will sack a town for you 12. Death will come before the dawn Now's the time to party on! 13. Rape the horses while they sleep, See the women wail and weep 14. Your ship of fortune arrives at last Plague death flag nailed to its mast 15. You hear the patter of small feet Midget thieves have robbed your keep 16. Your daughter's face could crack a mirror Your firstborn son is acting queer 17. Burn the castle, storm the keep Kill the women but save the sheep! 18. May your deeds with sheep and yaks Equal those with sword and axe 19. Your servants steal, your wife's untrue Your children plot to murder you 20. They stole your gold, your sword, your house They stole your sheep, but not your spouse 21. So another year has passed Don't look now they're gaining fast! 22. The Black Death has struck your town You yourself feel quite run-down |
23. We brought you linen, white as clouds Now we'll sit and sew your shroud! 24. So far death you have bypassed Don't look back it's gaining fast 25. I'm a leper, can't you see Have a birthday kiss from me 26. Burn, then rape by firelight Add romance to life tonight! 27. Now you've lived another year, And your death is drawing near. 28. Raise your cup of bitter cheer, Make the barman eat his ear 29. We like children, yes we do Baked or broiled or in a stew. 30. Famine, fear, and fire and flood, Can't keep your face out of the mud. 31. News that fills our hearts with fear: They've proved cancer's caused by beer 32. Just be glad the friends you've got Haven't found out you-know-what! 33. Birthdays come but once a year Marking time as Death draws near 34. Now you've reached the age you are Your demise cannot be far 35. Like the wrinkles in your lace Time is etched upon your face 36. When you've reached your age you know That the mind is first to go 37. Now you've lived another year And your death is drawing near 38. It's your birthday; never fear; You'll be dead this time next year 39. Children dying everywhere Women crying in despair 40. Typhoid, plague and polio Coffins lined up in a row 41. May the children in the street Be your barbequeing meat 42. Your friends are here, your enemies too, We just don't know who is who.... 43. May the women that you see Not have sense enough to flee |
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Blood Oath
by Conn MacNeill
Chorus Preachain, Preachain, for Clanne and for kinsmen, Preachain, Preachain, to battle we go Preachain, Preachain, for spears colored crimson, Preachain, Preachain, it's blood for the oath! There's a Clanne of bold temper, they're wild-eyed and clever, Their war-yell a death-knell for many a foe. The Morrigan's hammer, their song joyful clamor, They're oath-bound for sword-ground to keep a grim oath. Now the Senachal's spoken of a time long forgotten, When word-sign was tongue-plied by beats as by man, When the corn that they'd hoped for lay blighted and broken, And the Crow-king on coal-wing came swift to the Clanne. Chorus We'll no corn be taking, if to join in oath-making, You sword-swear no work-snare is set for the Crow. It's battle we're needing, on flesh and blood feeding, And red-gold to the sword-bold and their kinsmen will flow. In these words was wisdom, they bound themselves in them, A crow-sign or the war-line a token of faith. They armed and took hire, employed sword and fire, Took war-gear, gained word-fear and swept all away. Chorus From that time to this time, as spoken in fair rhyme, Preachain and the crow-band keep the unbroken oath, If you've stomach for warring than heed well my warning To the sword-bold give the war-gold or your flesh to the Crow! There's a Clanne of bold temper, they're wild-eyed and clever, Their war-yell a death-knell for many a foe. The Morrigan's hammer, their song joyful clamor, They're oath-bound for sword-ground to keep a grim oath. Chorus | |
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Celtic Ring of Fire
by "Those Wacky Dahlradians" filk: Ring of Fire, tune originally recorded by Johnny Cash When Caesar came to Albion He vowed to conquer all he saw. We drove old Caesar form our shore The legions muttered, "Nevermore!" Chorus He fell down into a Celtic ring of fire He went down, down, down, but the flames leapt higher! And he burned, burned burned, that Roman tyrant, That Roman tyrant! A Roman in a wickerman Scrams like only Romans can We danced around his funeral pyre We gave him to the God of Fire! Chorus When smashing down the walls of Rome Brennus drove his lesson home! "Woe to the vanquished" was his word! Upon the scales, he threw his sword. Chorus When Boudicca did lead the clannes They slaughtered Romans in the glens She chose to die upon her feet Than live like Romans on their knees! Chorus | |
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The Chastity Belt
O say, gentle maiden, may I be your lover? Condemn me no longer to mourn and to weep! Cut down like a hart, I lie wounded and fainting Let down your drawbridge, I'll enter your keep. Enter your keep, nonny, nonny Enter your keep, nonny, nonny Let down your drawbridge, I'll enter your keep. Alas, gentle errant, I am not a maiden. He's caged me in armor, that cunning old Celt! He's off to the wars for a twelve-month or longer And taken the key to my chastity belt. Taken the key, nonny, nonny Taken the key, nonny, nonny And taken the key to my chastity belt. Fear not, gentle maiden, for I know a locksmith To his forge we will go, at his door we will knock. To try and avail of his specialized knowledge And see if he's able to unpick your lock. Unpick your lock, nonny, nonny Unpick your lock, nonny, nonny And see if he's able to unpick your lock. "Alas, Sir and Madame, to help I'm unable. My technical knowledge is of no avail. I can't find the secret of your combination; The cunning old bastard has fitted a Yale! Fitted a Yale, nonny, nonny Fitted a Yale, nonny, nonny The cunning old bastard has fitted a Yale! The knight's squire returned with sad news of disaster. "A terrible mishap I have to confide: As our ship was passing the Straits of Gibraltar The knight and the key, they went over the side. Over the side, nonny, nonny Over the side, nonny, nonny The knight and the key, they went over the side." Alas and Alack! I am locked up forever! But up spoke a blacksmith, saying "Leave it to me." "'Twas I forged your belt, I forged the key also And as a precaution I've copies made three: One for his Lordship, one for the High Priest But only one fits and I kept that for me. Kept that for me, nonny, nonny Kept that for me, nonny, nonny But only one fits and I kept that for me. | |
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Circles
By Gwen Zak Filk: Windmills In days gone by, when the world was much younger Men wondered at spring, born of winter's cold strife Wondered at the games of the moon and the Sunlight, They saw there the Lady and Lord of all life. Chorus And around and around and around turns the good Earth All things must change as the seasons go by We are the children of the Lord and the Lady Whose mysteries we know, but we'll never know why. In all lands the people were tied with the good Earth Plowing and sowing as the seasons declared Waiting to reap of the rich golden harvest Knowing her laugh in the joys that they shared. Chorus Through Flanders and Wales and the green land of Ireland In kingdoms of England and Scotland and Spain Circles grew up all along the wild coastline And worked for the land with the sun and the rain. Chorus Circles for healing and working the weather Circles for knowing the Moon and the Sun Circles for thanking the Lord and the Lady Circles for dancing the dance never done. Chorus And we who reach for the stars in the heavens Turning our eyes from the meadows and groves Still live in the love of the Lord and the Lady The greater the Circle, the more the love grows. Chorus Chorus | |
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Closer to Daylight
by Ceara ni Neill, ?999 filk: Closer to Eleven by Lyra and Rael of Preachain filk: Closer to Fine by the Indigo Girls We traveled to the Fool's War of Meridies With many bottles of good brew And the meat of Ailsun's deer Pop Chiv said the party would be a big one. So we set out with our mugs to have much fun This was war practice, after all. Yeah..right. Into our camp came friends from the Consortium. With good songs & good cheer within their hearts Then the Period Police appeared to wreck our campin' But Lord Uilleagh chased them off with his "O Narseman" He is Spearcatcher, after all. Chorus We started at our camp And moved on to their camp And everywhere we reveled We raised the noise level And the more I think about it and look back in time, I wish that I had brought more wine. And I must keep an eye on the time, The closer it gets to daylight. The closer it gets to daylight. I need to seek the Herald of Meridies And bring to Baron Hywel my tales of woe I tried to get my name passed And sent in my device They get shot down with comments that are not nice But it's only paper after all. And I must submit it til I get it right, The closer it gets to daylight. Sir Bryce stumbled by the fire at 3 am To seek solace in Drambouie and to drum with some good friends A dancer lost a tassel, it got stuck in Gryffri's ear I went over to him and said, "Have a beer, Hips do project things after all." Chorus Lord Malcolm and Sir Theatyn soon joined us Sir Fiachna told us legends of the Yam. Someone said "potato", Then he said "po-tah-to". And then the knight caught Malcolm drinking beer, So he bade us all goodnight. Chorus | |
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Cois na Teineadh
by T.W. Rolleston
Where glows the Irish hearth with peat There lives a subtle spell... The faint blue smoke, the gentle heat, The moorland odours tell Of white roads winking by the edge Of bare, untamed land, Where dry stone wall of ragged hedge Runs wide on either hand. To cottage lights that lure you in From rainy Western skies; And by the friendly glow within Of simple talk, and wise, And tales of magic, love or arms From days when princes met Too listen to the lay that charms The Connacht peasant yet, There honour shines though passions dire, There beauty blends with mirth-- Wild hearts, ye never did aspire Wholly for things of earth! Cold, cold this thousand years-- yet still On many a time-stained page Your pride, your truth, your dauntless will, Burn on from age to age, And still around the fires of peat Live on the ancient days; There still do living lips repeat The old and deathless days. And when the wavering wreaths ascend Blue in the evening air, The soul of Ireland seems to bend Above her children there. | |
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Crusader's Song
by: Duke Conn McNeill
Chorus I'm for the Holy Land sailing, To win back Jerusalem's walls I'm for the Holy Land sailing, And I'll win my fortune or a martyr I'll fall. As my ship sails out I watch the far coastline, Leaving my kinsman my heart is full pained I've traded all for the cross at my shoulder, No land for a third son so I'm away Chorus As I look around me at the men on the benches, Their eyes are like mine so I know their hearts pain I sing them a song of bravery and battle, Now their eyes shine like the keen polished blade Chorus We're for the Holy Land sailing, To win back Jerusalem's walls We're for the Holy Land sailing, And we'll win our fortune or as martyrs we'll fall I followed King Richard to Sicily island, Joanna's dowry against Tancred prevailed Now a fortune in silver, a new wife hath Richard, I've a swift horse and a fine coat of maile Chorus At landfall in Cypress they refused Berengaria, Richard in anger has answered in steel Now the crown of Cypress he's added to England's, I've added knighthood's gold spurs to my heels Chorus I followed the banner to battle at Targrin, Held it aloft when it's bearer was slain We've given Richard a tower o'er the city, He's given me rank and a full captain's pay Chorus On the coastline at Tarsus we met with the Paynim, We won the battle though many men fell One was a baron with lands that need tending, Now they are mine and I'll tend them well Chorus Now I sit in court over Christian and Muslim, I've a strong keep and soldiers ten score King Richard's army has sailed back to England, I've said farewell for I'll see them nay more You see I'm in the Holy Land staying; To guard my own castle walls I'm in the Holy Land staying, I've won my fortune so farewell to all. | |
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The Day the Table Died
filk: American Pie, by Don McClean
'Twas so long ago, but I still remember How the legends used to make me smile... And I knew given half a chance I'd kill so many with my lance, And maybe I'd be famous for a while. So death and bloodshed I'd deliver, With every arrow from my quiver. All this bloody hassle, Just to defend one castle! I remember how he shed a tear When he learned of Lance and Guenivere And something touched me way down here, The day the Table died. Chorus Hail, hail, to the fellas in mail! Slaying dragons, saving damsels, chasing after the Grail. We fought off evil, til our faces were pale Wondering if there was a chance we might fail, Could there be a chance we might fail? Hast thou read the Book of Merlin, With its stories that Sir Rod of Serling Could have penned for the Twilight Zone? Dost thou believe in legend'ry, And all the tales of chivalry Like the one about the Longsword and the Stone? Well, Lancelot came from Par-ee To serve in Arthur's calvary He sweated off his tail, to wear the royal mail. When Lance had won his confidence He met Queen Guenivere by chance And melted down his iron pants The day the Table died. For several years, Lance and the Queen Had kept their meetings clandestine Finding ways to be alone. 'Twas on a fateful summer's day When Mordred found them in the hay And the Frenchman knew his cover had been blown. Arthur cried, "Swear by Excalibur, That you truly did not lie with her!" The notion was absurd. Lance said not a word. And so the knight, no longer chaste, Unto his native soil he raced Left Guenivere alone to face The day the Table died. Chorus Convicted of a grave offense By Mordred's damning evidence, Guenivere was set to burn. Arthur loathed his bastard son For all his work had been undone But he vowed the tables would be turned. Having Lance arrive to save the day He carried Guenivere away The king was so relieved. His true love was reprieved! Then Guenivere became a nun And Lancelot had no more fun And Mordred soon was on the run The day the Table died. Chorus I stand guard at this castle door, Though Arthur reigns not anymore Camelot's a memory. It does my heart good to recall The mighty kingdom's rise and fall And the space it occupies in history. The spirit of those days, it seems, Continues only in our dreams For there we can enjoy it; Let no one dare destroy it! One prophecy of days of yore Says Arthur shall arise once more To make all as it was before The day the Table died. Chorus Chorus | |
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Do Virgins Taste Better
by R. Farran filk: The Irish Washerwoman A dragon has come to our village today. We've asked him to leave, but he won't go away. Now he's talked to our king and they worked our a deal: No more homes will he burn and no crops will he steal. Now there is but one catch, we dislike it a bunch: Twice a year he invites him a virgin to lunch. Well, we've no other choice, so the deal we'll respect, But we can't help but wonder and pause to reflect: Chorus Do virgins taste better than those who are not? Are they salty, or sweeter, more juicy or what? Do you savor them slowly? Gulp them down on the spot? Do virgins taste better than those who are not? Now we'd like to be shed you, and many have tried But no one can get though your thick, scaly hide. We hope that some day, some brave knight will come by, 'Cause we can't wait around 'til you're too fat to fly. Now you have such good taste in your women for sure, They always are pretty, they always are pure. But your notion of dining, it makes us all flinch For your favorite entree is barbecued wench. Chorus Now we've found a solution, it works out so neat, If you insist on nothing but virgins to eat. No more will our number ever grow small, We'll simply make sure there's no virgins at all! Chorus | |
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Dragon Road
by Sir Cipriano d'Alvarez mka Guy Bradley It was on the first of August, out of Aronmerray, Half a dozen horses and a wagon load of hay There had been a party, hangovers galore Our clerics were unconscious and our fighters saddle-sore. Chorus And there were dragons, dragons, flying o'er the road, Wyverns all around us and behind us yellow mold And there were orcses, orcses, filling all the wood They all jumped upon us because we were lawful good. We were not discouraged. We were set to fight But we had drunk ten gallons of the finest mead that night! Sir Morris was disheveled, Sir Percy was the same And the elf who traveled with us was too drunk to know his name. Chorus The dragons got the horses, the orcs got even more And chewing on our wagon was an ugly manticore. We finally woke our wizard, he would make them pay But he rally pulled a boner when he mumbled spells that day. Chorus His fireball misfired, his lightning missed the mark And then the party found itself encased in total dark He tried to polymorph them, that dirty ancient louse And we did not think it funny when Sir Kay became a mouse. Chorus Our fighters bravely battled, but it was all for nought 'Cause we had not the measure of the monsters that we fought T'was our bard who finally saved us, for he could do no wrong And he really had them running when he belted out this song! Chorus | |
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Duck Tape Documentation
by Ceara ni Neill mka Alexandria Long 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. 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. 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! | |
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Early Mournin' Dew
by Mary Taran of Glastobury filk: Leavin' on a Jet Plane Oh, your shield is hacked from many a blow, I'm standing here, though you don't know, I hate to wake you up to see you die. But the shield wall is breaking, it's battered and torn, The herald's calling , he's blowing his horn Already I am mournin' for your hide. Chorus So wake up and fight for me, Tell me that you'll die for me. Hurry and get armored up and go. You'll go out there and get slain. I don't know if you will fight again. Oh, my lord, you have to go. There's so many times they've knocked you down, So many times you've lost a round, I tell you now, they don't mean a thing. Every battered helm is worn by you. Every mace they swing, they swing at you. If you come back, I'll mend your chain mail rings. Chorus Now the time has come to wake you One more time must I shake you You soon will be deep within the fray. Think about the days to come While you go out there all alone, About the time I won't have to say: Chorus | |
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The Fairy's Love Song
Chorus Why should I sit and sigh Pulling bracken, pulling bracken? Why should I sit and sigh On a hillside dreary? When I see the plover* rising Or the curfew* wheeling Then I know my mortal lover Back to me is stealing. Chorus Ah, but there is something wanting; Oh but I am weary! Come by, blithe and bonny laddie, O’er the knoll to cheer me. Chorus *plover: a bird, related to the sandpiper. *curfew: a bird, related to the woodcock. | |
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The Favor
by Ceara ni Neill mka Alexandria Long filk: Rossann nel Coir (recorded by Scartaglen) Ireland's sun is shining today But my heart does not bask in it's rays For my lover has gone off to battle And he carried the favor of fair Faye. Promised he me never to leave, But to steal his heart Faye did achieve Now he leaves me, alone, to my own fate Since for her my love he did betray. Come they, come they, suitors aplenty; I send, I send them away For my lover, he's gone into battle, Though he carried the favor of fair Faye. Ireland's sun is shining today, But my heart does not bask in its rays. For my brothers have gone into battle For to gain my honor thrown away. And I went to the battlefield today And from his belt, pulled the favor of fair Faye. | |
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Folk o' the Plaid
traditional
Ken ye the heart of the folk o' the plaid Wonder as many of what they are made? For they're hard as the highlands and cold as Loch Sloy Scots hae a spirit tha' nay can destroy. Chorus And it's hey to the highlands, hello to the low If ye leave a Scot breathin', he'll strike the last blow As the English Chieftain so angrily knows, A thistle bows not to the rose, a thistle bows not to the rose. Born in the damp winds and raised in the hills Those who reach manhood have iron-like wills For the weavers and the rovers and the brigands, it's known A Scotsman looks after his own, a Scotsman looks after his own. Chorus Now french ladies charm with their glances and sighs But give me a lassie with fire in her eyes. Aye, Scots girls are fiery, they're long, and they're lean, Sharper of wit than a dirk it is keen. Now lovin' the women's like juggling with knives; Too many at once and they'll look to your lies. Find ye but one lass and stay to her true She'll fight at your back and share all that you do. Chorus Now some call us heartless and callous and cruel But a Scot's a survivor and nobody's fool. We've wagered though the ages of hardship and strife Sometimes it takes a hard man to lead a hard life. So we'll pipe 'til the blood sings, and we'll drink liquid fire Watch where ye tread lest ye risk Scottish ire Hark ye the words of the MacKintosh Clan Touch not the cat without a gloved hand. Chorus Chorus | |
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Fop Hunt
by Lyra and Rael filk: Moondance It's a marvelous night for a fop hunt All their lace in the moonlight will glow. A fantabulous night to make fops run Through the barbed wire fences so low. And all their blood will be flowin' When I sever their heads! You know they won't be goin' 'Cause they'll be dead...oh, so dead! Chorus Can we just have one more fop hunt, Danu, tonight? Can we just make some more fops run, Danu, tonight? Well I wanna take heads with you tonight, I can't wait for the mornin' to come. And I know if I hold my spear just right, Then straight into the point fops will run. And all their spleens will be ruptured And their entrails will flow I'll slash their femoral arteries Then they'll run really slow! Chorus Well I'm walkin' around with a fop's head With his testicles shoved up his nose And I know I'll complete my collection With the rest of our buttery-butt foes And every time I kill one I just tremble and shake You know it feels so good To put their head on a stake! Chorus | |
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Four Blind Mice
Four blind mice are dead Four blind mice are dead See how they lie See how they lie Four dead bodies on the ground Four dead bodies on the ground Poor dead mice Poor dead mice | |
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The Froggy Song
by Ceara ni Neill mka Alexandria Long When I was a young lass of fourteen and two, I went to a witch who could tell fortunes true. But I swear that that witch cast a spell upon me For since then I've only eyes for men slimy green. Chorus Someday I will find my true horny-toad. My kiss will change him to a fine, handsome rogue But with my luck, he'll love me and leave me to be A-lookin' for another frog to kiss and marry me. I hear a frog croaking near yonder deep pond. His voice is so deep, it makes my heart grow fond! Perhaps he's a large toad with back spotted brown; He'll change to a fine prince with hair to the ground! Chorus "Come to me, sweet Ceara," he croaked with a smile. "Aye, here lass, sit by me and chat for a while. I'll tell you a story, you'll sing me a song. We'll frolic together 'til dusk becomes dawn!" "I hear thee, dear Toadie, but what if I do? Perhaps there's no spell and your words are untrue." "Then kiss me, I beg of you, for I know well To regret today is better than no story to tell." Chorus With eyes closed, my lips touched his skin, damp and cold; I feared of the warts of which I had been told. But my wondering eyes opened to find such a treat A stately, tall, and handsome prince with perfect webbed feet! Chorus | |
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Gilda and the Dragon
by Cynthia McQuillin
Sir Loren undertook a quest, the maiden Gilda seeking. He found her in a dragon's bed, from 'neath the covers peeking. "What seek you here, Sir Loren dear?" the dragon asked with guile. The noble knight could not but note the dragon's sated smile. "Why smilest thou, Lord Dragon, sir?" asked our hero in armor laden? "Why, you'd smile too," the worm replied, "if you'd just eaten a maiden." "Such candor," this young lordling cried, "must touch upon dishonor!" The dragon grinned his lecherous grin and once more was upon her. "Cease and desist!" Sir Loren cried, his fine steel blade a-flashin'. "Oh, slay him not!" young Gilda cried, her voice a play of passion. "Was ever a maid so tried as I betwixt desire and honor? I should demand you slay the beast, but he stirs in me such ardor!" "Fie, fie!" Sir Loren cried to her. "What foolishness is this? Would you deny you lord and land all for a dragon's kiss?" Intently he did search her face, then frowned in deep dismay As she shed a tear for honor's sake, and sent him on his way. "Why smilest thou, Lord Dragon, sir?" asked our hero in armor laden? "Why, you'd smile too," the worm replied, "if you'd just eaten a maiden." | |
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Greensleeves
traditional
Alas, my love, you do me wrong To cast me off discourteously. And I have loved you so long Delighting in your company. Chorus Greensleeves was all my joy Greensleeves was my delight Greensleeves was my heart of gold And who, but my Lady Greensleeves. I have been ready at your hand To grant what ever you would crave. I have both waged life and land Your love and good will for to have. Chorus Thou couldst desire no earthly thing But still thou hadst it readily Thy music still to play and sing And yet thou wouldst not love me. Chorus Well I will pray to God above That thou my constancy may'st see For I am still thy lover true Come once again and love me. Chorus | |
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Gypsy Rover
traditional
The gypsy rover came over the hill, Bound though the valley so shady He whistled and he sang 'till the green woods rang And he won the heart of a lady. Ah dee doo, ah dee doo dah day Ah dee doo, ah dee day dee He whistled and he sang 'till the green woods rang And he won the heart of a lady. She left her father's castle gate, She left her own true lover. She left her servants and her estate To follow the gypsy rover. Ah dee doo, ah dee doo dah day Ah dee doo, ah dee day dee She left her servants and her estate To follow the gypsy rover. Her father sadled his fasted steed, He roamed the valley all over. He sought his daughter at great speed And the whistling gypsy rover. Ah dee doo, ah dee doo dah day Ah dee doo, ah dee day dee He sought his daughter at great speed And the whistling gypsy rover. He came at last to a mansion fine Down by the River Claydee, And there was music and there was wine For the gypsy and his lady. Ah dee doo, ah dee doo dah day Ah dee doo, ah dee day dee And there was music and there was wine For the gypsy and his lady. "He is no gypsy, my father," she said, But lord of tehse lands all over; And I will stay 'till my dying day With my whistling gypsy rover." Ah dee doo, ah dee doo dah day Ah dee doo, ah dee day dee And I will stay 'till my dying day With my whistling gypsy rover." And I will stay 'till my dying day With my whistling gypsy rover." | |
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The Heralds Said to Me
by Ioseph and Cherie Ruadh of Locksley filk: The Twelve Days of Christmas The first time I sent my device, the heralds said to me: It violates the Rule of Three." The next time I tried it, the heralds said to me: "We changed the forms, And it violates the Rule of Three." The third time I tried, and the heralds said to me: "We upped the fees, We changed the forms, And it violates the Rule of Three." Another time I tried, and the heralds said to me: "We haven't got it, We upped the fees, We changed the forms, And it violates the Rule of Three. " The fifth time I tried it, the heralds said to me: (monastic chant) "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! ...We haven't got it, We upped the fees, We changed the forms, And it violates the Rule of Three." I tried it a sixth time and the heralds said to me: "It's against the Rule of Tincture, "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! We haven't got it, We upped the fees, We changed the forms, And it violates the Rule of Three. (Angrily) The last time I sent my device, the heralds said to me: (Smugly) "Someone else has got it, "It's against the Rule of Tincture, "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! ...We haven't got it, We upped the fees, We changed the forms, And it violates the Rule of Three! | |
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If I Only Had a Bard
?997 by Ceara ni Neill filk: If I Only Had a Brain (from the Wizard of Oz), with added chorus In my hair I would wear flowers And he'd sing songs by the hour If I only had a bard; Even if his jokes are corny He would always make me...happy If I only had a bard! Chorus And a heigh and a ho, and a heigh, nonny no, If I only had a bard! And a heigh and a ho, and a heigh, nonny no, And he always would be...happy! Where I sit on I'd wear rabbit I'd put woad on out of habit If I only had a bard. I could dance around with flutes And maybe tighten up my glutes If I only had a bard! Chorus We'd hold contests during dinner For to see who is more limber, If I only had a bard. I'd eat beef and he'd eat sweet-meats But he'd always keep his beard neat, If I only had a bard! Chorus | |
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Johnny Be Fair
the substitution of female names and, with a few other changes, may be sung by a man as well. And I would marry Johnny but me father up and said, "I'm sad to tell you, daughter, what your mother never knew, But Johnny is a son of mine, and so is kin to you." Oh, Robin be fair, and ..... Oh, Sean be fair, and ..... ( Change names as needed, repeat as many times as you want. ) You never saw a girl so sad and sorry as I was, The boys in town are all my kin and my father is the cause. If life should thus continue I will die a single miss, So I will go to Mother and complain to her of this. "Well, daughter, haven't I taught you to forgive and to forget, And if your father sowed his oats, well, still you needn't fret. Your father may be father to all the boys, but still, He's not the one who sired you, so marry who you will." | |
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Lest We For Love
by Robert Fitzmorgan
To see you now my heart would burst, For I have loved you from the first. My lady, I must go away Lest we for love should love betray. With all my heart I've served your lord Since I was knighted by his sword. Near you I can no longer stay, Lest we for love should love betray. Our love it is a dreadful sin Yet still I have this love within For it to end I daily pray Lest we for love should love betray. I stood with him when my lord wed And heard the vows you and he said. Hold fast to what you pledged that day Lest we for love should love betray. My lady I must leave you now For I'd not have you break your vow. Our parting I cannnot delay Lest we for love should love betray. | |
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Local SCA
by somebody in Three Rivers Barony(?) filk: God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen Arrest these merry gentles, nay it would be so unkind, If you'll but wait a moment sir, we will relieve your mind. We are not escaped lunatics, so kindly us unbind, For we are your local SCA, SCA For we are your local SCA. These men aren't wearing dresses, sir, those are not panty hose. No, those are tights and tunics, sir, they are medieval clothes. And men were really macho then, as everybody knows, So please do not look upon us that way, For we are your local SCA. We recreate past ages, sir, and that is all we do. Please give our swords and knives to us. We'd like our axes, too. Return us all our weapons, sir, the act you will not rue For we mostly use them for display, display. For we are your local SCA. We really are not dangerous, although we like to fight. We do it on a tourney field, you see, so it's all right. And we wear lots of armor, too, like any noble knight, And use our wooden sticks to whale away, whale away For we are your local SCA. Oh, we pavanne in public sir, the horse bransle do also. Full many a fine feast attend and to a revel go. And all that night we sing and drink, for free the mead doth flow, Then drive four hundred miles the next day, the next day, For we are your local SCA. We have a King and Prince who do our loyalty command I'm from Forth Castle shire fair, the finest in the land. And we are on our way to court, but not the one you planned. Oh, please let us go upon our way, our way. For we are your local SCA. Arrest these merry gentles, nay, discretion you should use. For we are lords and ladies, so how can you refuse? I say, that is a lady, sir, you should not her abuse. It is not genteel to act this way, this way, And lock up your local SCA! | |
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The Man Who Wouln't Die
by Sir Cipriano d'Alvarez mka Guy Bradley I've armored up a thousand times for Country and for King And many's the tale that I could tell Or song that I could sing. I've fought in Beltane's driving rain And struggled for each breath; At Salt Wars and Oleno where We damn near froze to death. I've had my share of bruises and I've watched the arrows fly, But the strangest thing I've ever seen Was the man who wouldn't die. He stood a tow'ring seven feet A giant among men. His armor was of twelve-gauge steel His hide it was of ten. From a land most far away he came, Their champion and King, And many crafty ways he had To make your helmet ring. The battle lines they soon were joined And much to my surprise, I was locked in single combat with The man who wouldn't die. We circled round a time or two Then I opened up the show With an underhanded wrist shot which Is still my favorite blow. He didn't even try to block, Just brought that great sword down And split my helm completely from The chin up to the crown. And thought my sword was still entrapped In the dent made in his side, "What a mighty Knight" his people cheered "Is the man who wouldn't die." Full four and twenty fighters fell Before his awesome might, And though many blows did land it seems That every one was light. The battle soon was over and By God's own blood he went Off to the sides to doff his gear And hammer out the dents. The second battle soon began And I took another try, Bearing a sword named "Rhino's Bane" For the man who wouldn't die. For "Rhino's Bane" was a special blade Immortals for to cow. And if he had not felt those blows He'd damn well feel one now! Three feet of rattan I center drilled Then hollowed out the head And filled that hole with six or maybe Seven pounds of lead. A single shop was all I'd get; I raised that sword on high, And buried it within the helm Of the man who wouldn't die. He didn't even bat an eye Just calmly struck me down, And then went on to clear the field Of Squires, Knights and Crown. I pondered why this man was not A'stretched out on the dirt; I guess a head shot does no good With nothing there to hurt. The third engagement was delayed To give the chiurgeons time To pry the sword from out the head Of the man who wouldn't die. A battle deep within the woods Was the last fight of the day And the men remaining on my side Went on their knees to pray. "Oh Lord, if you care for us, Allow your moon to fall, Upon this man for that would be The only blow he'd call." But as we marched atop a hill A plan occurred which I Thought maybe could lead to the death Of the man who wouldn't die. Upon this hill there lay a stone A full six feet in girth. "Oh gather round my fighters bold We'll bring this man to earth! Ten stalwart lads I need with me to Strike the final blow, While the rest shall keep behemoth here Occupied below. And when he stops to fight you From up above will fly This boulder full upon the frame Of the man who wouldn't die." It happened just as I foresaw From out the woods he ran And stopped there right below us as According to the plan The men below fought bravely while The men above did strain To send that boulder from the hill Onto his alleged brain. At last the stone it stirred to life And with a final pry, We sent that boulder on its way To the man who wouldn't die. Knocking trees to left and right That fearsome missile sped And with a final bounce it came To rest upon his head. His arms and legs were all that we could see beneath the stone. But when we came from atop the hill We heard our victim groan. Astounded, round bout we stood As day bled into night, And heard him say one final time: "My Lords, that blow was light." | |
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Men of the Picts
by Rudyard Kipling
Rome never heeds where she treads. Always the heavy hooves fall On our stomachs, our hearts and our heads. And Rome never heeds when we bawl. The sentries pass on, that is all. And we gather behind them in hordes, And plot to reconquer the Wall With only our tongues for our swords. We are the little folk, we, Too little to love or to hate. But leave us alone and you'll see Just how we can drag down the State. We are the worm in the wood, We are the rot at the root, We are the tint in the blood, We are the thorn in the foot! Mistletoe choking an oak Rats gnawing cables in two Moths making holes in a cloak How they must love what they do. Yes, and we are the little folk too! We are as busy as they Working our works out of view. But watch, and you'll see them someday. No, indeed we are not strong. But we know people who are! And we, we will guide them along To crush and destroy you in war. Yes, we have always been slaves, And yes, we will still be their slaves. But you, you will die of the shame, And then we will dance on your graves. We are the little folk, we. Too little to love or to hate. But leaves us alone and you'll see Just how we can drag down the State! | |
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Meridies
by Lady Megan Nimaia led Celeta ?979 by Lila Fraser Will my dazzled eyes ever learn to bear the flash of sun on chrome? Will there ever be a place that I can truly call my home? Will my courage fail before I find the place where I belong? Will the city's noise drown out the sound of a lonely minstrel's song? Meridies, you mean so much to me A joy in life that is almost too much to bear Meridies, you've set my spirit free; Now I can drop the lifeless mask I wear. When I see the knights in their gleaming mail I move back through the years When I see my sister with her lord I'm almost moved to tears. When I see the feast-hall candle-lit it's like coming home at last; Now I know you are my people and my place is in the past. Meridies, you mean so much to me The taste of cloves and the warmth of a stranger's kiss. Meridies, you've set my spirit free; I never dreamed that life could be like this. There's a place where the time has no power over men and their affairs, Where a craftsman still puts all his love and skill into his wares. There's a place where fellowship has not become an empty word Where no noise drowns out the laughter and the music can be heard. Meridies, you mean so much to me You gave the minstrel a time and a place to sing. Meridies, you've set my spirit free; Long live the kingdom, and God bless the King. Meridies, you've set my spirit free; Long live the kingdom, and God bless the King. | |
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My Love Come Late in Life
by Aislinn
Oh, my love come late in life, Who for a time is mine There's not a rose blooms by itself But others round it twine. You came and took me by the hand And fair you spake my name; And fair you looked into my eyes And I to you the same. We walked in gardens of the sun And danced the circle gay The moon she sent her blessings down, And likewise did the day. Oh, Lady, bless this bed of love Whereon we two do lie And may our souls cling hand in hand Far past the day we die. And glad I am the pact was made And glad the deed was done No matter in whose arms you've lain We still will be as one. Go take the lady you must claim, Go take her by the hand Our love is for another life, Live this one as you can. Oh, my love come late in life Who for a time was mine There's not a rose blooms by itself But others 'round it twine. | |
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No Lady
by Dierdra Mulleabhar mka Debra Eccles I am no lady born, I am the child of a hungry serf. But I am fair or so men say, And so they came to me for mirth. They had their way and left behind A cold and lonely heart, So I asked for coins and jewels and such Before they could depart. I had a little bag I hid Where never man could see, And in this bag of mine I stashed My coins and my jewelry. With passing time, my hoard it grew Till I had a sufficient sum To buy a house and pretty clothes. I knew leaving time had come. So I moved to another land My identity I hid And there it was I quickly found Lords to do as I would bid. They no longer had their way with me, For they thought me a lady fair And I hid all I'd done from them. No secrets did I bare. A noble knight, a handsome lord Whose heart did for me yearn Spoke of marriage. I said "Yes." He had his will in turn. I am a good and loving wife To all the world it seems. And for myself? I now have found A little of my dreams. Yes, I will be so good to him That he will think it love, But I will not give my heart to him, For by the stars above; If I gave my heart to him, I might tell him of my youth; And I would lose what I have gained If I told him the truth. Yes, you may think me cold; You may think me unkind. But life is as it is for me, And I return just what I find. | |
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| Old Time Religion filk: traditional hymn | |
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Chorus
Give me that old time religion, Give me that old time religion, Give me that old time religion, That's good enough for me! 1. Meeting at the witching hour By the bud and branch and flower Folks are raising up the power That's where I want to be! 2. We shall worship with the Druids Drinking strange fermented fluids Running naked through the woo-ids And that's good enough for me. 3. Let us gather in our saunas When the Spirit comes upon us To perform the rites of faunas, That's good enough for me! 4. I'll rise early in the morning When the sun gives me the warning That the solar age is dawning Well, that's good enough for me. 5. Let us go and worship Hermes; Got a staff that crawls with wormies That could knock out all the germies, He's good enough for me. 6. We went off to worship Venus And by gosh, you should have seen us! Now the clinic has to screen us, But she's good enough for me! 7. We will pray to Aphrodite Even though she's rather flighty And they say she wears no nighty And that's good enough for me. 8. If your rising sign is Aries, You'll be taken by the fairies Meet the Buddha in Benares, Where he'll hit you with a pie. |
9. Good old Thor, the god of Thunder Really helped us get our plunder Tho' his head's still truly dunder, He's still good enough for me. 10. We will pray with those Egyptians Build pyramids to put our crypts in Cover subways with inscriptions, And that's good enough for me. 11. Oh, old Odin we will follow And in fighting we will wallow 'Til we wind up in Valhallo And that's good enough for me. 12. It was good enough for Loki, It was good enough for Loki, He thinks Thor's a little hokey, But it's good enough for me. 13. If you think religion's awful And you've really had your crawful Just be sure your acts are lawful Or they'll all be after thee. 14. Pan and all the satyrs brayed in Chorus when they saw a maiden "What a faith to get a-laid in!" And it's good enough for me. 15. Well, Pan's pipes got plugged last summer And it really was a bummer. Finally had to call a plumber, But it's good enough for me. |
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Pennsic, Soon Around the Corner
by Ceara ni Neill mka Alexandria Long The summer wanes, the winter it cools. We realize, my love, we were only fools. But care we not of our lot, For Pennsic is soon around the corner. So shine your boots and your armor well And take care your battle stories, they do not swell. For when ye do fight, then the truth it will tell! For Pennsic is soon around the corner. And brew ye lots of ale and mead. You can ne'er brew too much for to fill your need! And bring ye your cup when you come to sup, For Pennsic is soon around the corner. To minstrels, bards, afar I hail: Come sing us your songs and drink of our ale! And the dancers will dance to the drummers' beat true For Pennsic is soon around the corner. So smile, my love and dry your eyes As the grass on the battlefield waves at the sky We'll frolic together and meet many others For Pennsic is soon around the corner. So pack ye your tent and your garb and your sword And if there is room, you can pack even more. You can ne'er bring too much to the Pennsic War! Aye, Pennsic is soon around the corner. Aye, Pennsic is soon around the corner. | |
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Preachain Song
by Ceara ni Neill mka Alexandria Long We live in a world that is vile and wrong We look to each other to keep ourselves strong With respect to our culture, we recreate the days And the best we know how practice all the ancient ways. The sky smiles above us to the earth beneath our feet On occasion, if you listen, the winds laugh maniacally But the trees wave them quiet and the brook bubbles them still And the gods invite us out to play, to frolic at will. Chorus Preachain, Preachain, let us all gather 'round And drive our enemies into the ground The Goddess is with us and we fight as one We belong to the Earth, the Sea and the Sun. Some spend their lives struggling to keep up the pace With society's downfall and technology's mace But we as a Clanne seek a higher, deeper call For it's our own inner child that will save us all. Chorus As Children of the Crow we will never grow old; Our hearts are wild and free. And ne'er will we live as slaves to mundanes We belong to the Earth, Fire, Sky and the Sea! Chorus | |
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The Priest
by Mikal Hrafspa
...as conveyed from the SCA minstrel list, at a time I do not remember:
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Up from the town Wailing their tears Seeing their husbands Slain on the field The cries of the wounded Sobs of the women Death came to many Dirges were wailed I stayed by my friend Who slew on the field On the still living And their souls lingered Sagas I sang The silver of poets To summon valkyries Victorious again It was near sunset A young priest stopped And listened a while In wonder at songs He came to the side Catching the shoulder Gently he looked And grasped at his pouch Each time he touched Prayers from the text Words long remembered Making deep scars All of that darktime Fending off death From this great Norseman Treating as friends Just before dawn Kund breathed deeper I called the priest Why he had pity How can I turn All life is truth I was a student To slaughter our Abbot But I have read His sins are removed His road is short He should be swift With them was a man Son of a merchant His was the spear For many seasons I saw your eyes You know the sermons 'Give peace to your foes' Remember this priest The priest walked away For his own people I carried my friend In the van of the king But in the silence A son of two fathers Must the first one die Paths I must cross Here I must choose |
women were trudging tearing their hair finding their sons to rot in the sun whirled in the wind and whispers of breath relief to the dying and graves were dug to ward off the foes or ravens that fed while their breath labored clutching at life songs of the heroes on Kund I spent to take him to Vallhalla my valiant friend while I was singing hearing the sagas waiting in silence that blended with wails of the fallen Kund of his companion at the wounds gaping to gather some herbs each time he tended he whispered each time deep in their meaning in my memory the priest kept this duty with prayer and drug his people's foe the ones they had fought death passed them by he would not die to answer this poet on this great Pagan when prayers I sang Christ gave his sons that was his prayer. perhaps that is good. from the teachings of Patrick? all is a treasure when Vikings did sail and carry off silver. our Abbot did mention raised by our monks that slew our dear Abbot we willed him to Satan! the holy writ by the holy road and will end soon to choose who he serves saving his prayers crying in pain and gently laid Kund and kept him quiet I knew the secret a servant of two faiths for the other? gone without a trace and in choosing face |
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The Ritual of Lughnasadh
by Ceara ni Neill mka Alexandria Long T'was summer, Pennsic XXIV A season close to heart My soul I'd thought lost to hardship and strife And then the ritual began. A seed deep within me I'd found long ago But had feared of its power and not let it grow For I had emotions I could not let show And then the Circle began. The cauldron of water stood still as a mirror To receive the image of the Moon. Sure She rose o'er the hill to spill out her light And touch me, like a spell. Barely conscious was I of activities at hand: The Smudging, the Calling of the Corners; And I shook from inside, feeling the presence Of the gods, gathered with us to stand. One by one, we advanced to kneel And reverence the Moon in the cauldron. I pulled a pebble from the pot, Cold, clear water on my hand, to feel. The grain we threw to the wind so gentle And drank of the mead so sweet When the end of the ritual was announced I found myself sitting, slightly weak. The Powers I'd felt were great and strong Yet soft and gentle and kind And I rose with a sense of renewed inner strength Prepared for a journey long. The presence of the gods that night Induced direction in or lives. Aye, hardship and strife, though perhaps more to come Are passed by, with contented life. T'was summer, Pennsic XXIV A season close to heart. Lughnasadh was the ritual From which my renewed life began, From which my renewed life began. | |
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The Simple Joys of Maidenhood
from the soundtrack of "Camelot"
Where are the simple joys of maidenhood? Where are all those adoring, daring boys? Where's the knight pining so for me He leaps to death in woe for me? Oh, where are a maiden's simple joys? Shan't I have the normal life a maiden should? Shall I never be rescued in the wood? Shall two knights never tilt for me And let their blood be spilt for me? Oh, where are the simple joys of maidenhood? Shall I not be on a pedestal, Worshiped and competed for? Not be carried off, or better still, Cause a little war? Are those sweet, gentle pleasures gone for good? Shall a feud not begin for me? Shall kith not kill their kin for me? Oh, where are the trivial joys? Harmless, convivial joys? Where are the simple joys of maidenhood? | |
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Skye Boat Song
traditional
Chorus Speed bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing, "Onward," the sailors cry! Carry the lad that is born to be king, Over the sea to Skye! Loud the Winds howl, loud the waves roar, Thunderclaps rend the air, Baffled our foes stand on the shore, Follow they will not dare. Chorus Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep, Ocean's a royal bed; Rocked in the deep, Flora will keep Watch by your weary head. Chorus Many's the lad fought on that day Well the claymore could wield When the night came, silently lay Dead on Culloden's field. Chorus Burned are our homes, exile and death Scatter the loyal men Yet e'er the sword cool in the sheath, Charlie will come again. Chorus | |
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The Sleeping Scotsman
by Bryan Bowers
Oh a Scotsman clad in kilt left the bar one evening fair And one could tell by how he walked he'd drunk more than his share He fumbled round til he could no longer keep his feet Then he stumbled off unto the grass to sleep beside street. Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, Oh he stumbled off unto the grass to sleep beside the street. Well about that time two young and lovely ladies happened by And one said to the other, with a twinkle in her eye "Oh see yon sleepy Scotsman, so strong and handsome built?" "Well I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath their kilts." Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, "Oh I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath their kilts." Well they snuck up to that sleeping Scotsman, quiet as could be And they lifted up his kilt a little bit so they might see And there before their startled eyes, beneath that Scottish skirt, Was nothing more than God had graced him with upon his birth. Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, Was nothing more than God had graced him with upon his birth. 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." As a gift, they left a blue silk ribbon tied into a bow Around the bonnie star the Scotsman's kilt did lift and show. Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, Around the bonnie star the Scotsman's kilt beneath did show. Well the Scotsman woke to nature's call and stumbled towards a tree, And as he lifted up his kilt, he gawks at what he sees, And in a strangled voice, he says to what's before his eyes, "I don't know where ye been, me lad, but I see ye took first prize!" Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, "I don't know where ye been, me lad, but I see ye took first prize!" Our Scottish friend still dressed in kilt continued down the street, He hadn't gone ten yards or more, when a girl he chanced to meet. She said, "I've heard what's 'neath that kilt, tell me is it so." He said, "Just put your hand up miss, if you'd really like to know." Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, He said, "Just put your hand up miss, if you'd really like to know." She put her hand right up his kilt and much to her surprise, The Scotsman smiled and a very strange look came into his eyes. She said, "Why sir that's gruesome," and then she heard him roar, "If you put your hand up once again you'll find it grew some more." Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, "If you put your hand up once again you'll find it grew some more." | |
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The Song of Roland
by Roslinde Jehanne of Paradox Keep
The fairest flower of chivalry to bloom in all the land,
And the noblest of all the Knights of Charlemagne...
Was Roland, Roland, King Charles' sister's son Renowned through all the Frankish lands, for battles you have won. In counsel hear ye Ganelon, make plea to go to war, To aid the rebel Saracens, against their rightful Lord. Roland, Roland, you call this plan ill made. But none the less does Charlemagne agree to send them aid, Then Ganelon requests you for the post most perilous, And willingly do you accept as honor deems you must. Roland, Roland, the rearguard you command. With Oliver, your loyal friend to ride at your right hand But at the vale of Rencesvals your doom is now aneigh, The Saracens they hold the pass and will not let you by. Roland, Roland, you know now you are betrayed. But in your heart is courage and your voice is not afraid. "Face we now grim battle, take there shields and raise them high, With honor we have lived our lives, with honor we shall die." Roland, Roland, sound your mighty horn And try to call the men back that rode out just yestermorn The King has heard your call afar, but Ganelon says "Nay, Tis only our young Roland, out hunting on this day." Roland, Roland sound your horn again. As fierce the battle rages through the valley and the glen Again the King has heard your call, again the traitor lies And none shall come to aid you since your peril he denies. Roland, Roland, sound your final blast. As one by one your men-at-arms die fighting at the pass And at the last is Oliver by swordsmen overthrown. And ye of all the Frankish host now stand alone. Roland, Roland, oh black the day you died! Your comrades slain around you, your sword by your side. They found you on the hilltop with your face turned towards the foe And never has there been a day of such great woe. Roland, Roland, your name will live in song. Wherever brave men take up arms to right a mighty wrong. The fairest flower of chivalry to bloom in all the land And the noblest of all the Knights of Charlemagne. | |
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Star of the County Down
traditional
Near to Bainbridge town in the County Down One morning last July Down the boreen green came a fair colleen And she smiled as she passed me by. She looked so sweet from her two bare feet To the crown of her nut-brown hair Such a winsome elf, sure I shook myself For to see I was really there. Chorus From Bantry Bay to Derry Quay And from Galway to Dublin Town No maid I've seen like the brown colleen, That I met in the County Down. As she onward sped, sure I scratched my head And I gazed with a feeling rare "I says," says I , to a passer-by, "Who's that maid with the nut-brown hair? He smiled at me, and with pride says he, "That's the gem of Ireland's Crown," "Young Rosie McGann from the banks of the Bann She's the star of the County Down." Chorus At the harvest fair she will surely be there So I'll dress in my finest clothes, For I'd wear sheep's hides and be crucified For the heart of my nut-brown rose. No pipe will I smoke; nor horse will I yoke Though the plow turn a rust-colored brown 'Til shining bright by my own fireside Is the star of the County Down. | |
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The Tavern Song
1996 by Ceara ni Neill
One evening in the winter In a tavern that I know well A man dressed in plaid, he smiled my way And he said these words, these words to me: Chorus Lassie, will ye pass the mead? Tis a gift of the gods and the wild honey-bee To bring laughter and life to those who would drink Won't ye come and have some, and have some with me? His words, they warmed my racing heart And with a smile, I did reply Take me where ye will, I'll drink my fill And I'll drink to you, to you besides. Chorus He took my hand, we walked by the riverside The moonlight, it shone our way Then he looked in my eyes at the rest of our lives And I'll never, no never, never leave his side. Chorus 1/2 Chorus To bring laughter & love to those who would drink Won't ye come and have some, and have some with me | |
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There's Me A Lassie
by Ceara ni Neill
Oh, I have a story to tell So all ye, listen well: There’s nothing so striking As a handsome Viking Sayin’ there’s me a lassie now! He swept me off my feet And gave me a dram to drink He laid on the charm ‘Til I fell in his arms Sayin’ there’s me a lassie now! So he raises his sword on high And swears for my honor to fight And ne’er will he yield By the Wolf on his shield Sayin’ there’s me a lassie now! His name and his honor I’ll hold And he’ll live on in stories of old I’ll stand by his side And his children, with pride Sayin’ here is your lassie now! I’ll stand by his side And his children, with pride Sayin’ here is your lassie now! | |
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Three Blind Laurels
by Symon d'Auvergne
filk: Three Blind Mice
Three blind laurels Three blind laurels See how they judge See how they judge They all ran up to the Queen one night And altered her gown with a carving knife Have you ever seen such a sight in your life As three blind laurels? (repeat ad nauseum) | |
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Too Much of a Good Thing
By Peggy Seeger
On a Monday night he came to my door And he made such a din Get up, get up you darling girl And let your lover come in. Well I got up and I let him in And on me he did fall It was five o'clock in the morning Before I got any sleep at all. On Tuesday night he came to my door The joys of love to tend Get up, get up, you darling girl Before I go' round the bend. Well I got up and I let him in And in my arms he lay I had to hear the stroke of four Before he'd go away. On Wednesday night he came to my door A little late in time I'd have been here sooner, you darling girl, But the hill's so hard to climb. I hadn't been long all in his arms Before he let me be Then out of the house and down the road Just after the stroke of three. On Thursday night he came to my door So weary and so slow Oh, give me a drink, you darling girl And then to work we'll go. Well all night long he fought with it But I had to help him through And I heard him sigh as he rose to go, It's only after two. On Friday night he came to my door Shaking in every limb Get up, get up you darling girl Get up and carry me in. Well I got up and I carried him in And gently laid him down But hardly could his spirits rise To reach the stroke of one. On Saturday night he came to my door, He came on his hands and knees Oh, don't come down, you darling girl, Stay home and let me be. Well I got up and I let him in But he fell down in a swoon And though often I tried to raise him up He lay 'til Sunday noon. | |
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Traveler's Tale
©2001 by Ceara ni Neill
Warm the day and cool the night In the land I travelled fair Naught did I know of my plight And the love I would find there Soft he spoke and sweet he sang Close we held those starry nights And the bells they loudly rang And we danced til morning's light Then we parted for a spell To seek friends and all my kin I to make my fond farewells Not to see them e'er again. There were bandits at the quay And my carraige did capsize They upon me had their way Then did Death come rest my eyes Go, my lover, do not weep Have my blessing and my kiss Find another for to keep So that you may not me miss Warm the day and cool the night In the land I travelled fair Now my soul it travels light For the love of one that's there. | |
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The Twelfth Knight
by Duke Sir John the Bearkiller
Twelve knights they rode upon the land, On horses strong and lean Eleven belts were old and grim The twelfth was young and green. The youngest knight was newly made Eldon was his name He traveled with the elder men To earn both blade and fame. Barely tall and eighteen years Sworn new to belt and chain, He strived to all, like these men, And live as evil's bane. They tired then, as sunset came And shelter now, their quest Into a peasant's yard they rode And demanded all the best. Eldon watched as the peasants bowed And hurried to and fro To serve the noble knights requests And ward away their blows. Eldon could not understand How the treatment was deserved; To beat the peasants, these lowly folk, Who had only meant to serve. A comely daughter of the house Was grabbed and tossed about. Her brother tried to stay their hands Was beaten, called a lout. Eldon stood and drew his sword And as he freed the maid, Knocked down Sir Karl and said quite low, "The next one tastes my blade." "How can you, all sworn to truth Treat this kindness such? Perhaps you've taught me all too well For I find this way too much. "I'll take my sword and leave you now To find my chivalry For noble birth is no excuse For lies and hypocrisy." | |
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Two Magicians
She looked out of the window, as white as any milk And he looked in at the window as black as any silk. Chorus Hello, hello, hello, hello, you coal black smith You have done me no harm But you never shall have my maidenhead That I have kept so long. I'd rather die a maid, ah, but then she said, And be buried all in my grave, Than to have such a nasty, husky, dusky, fusky, musky, coal black smith; A maiden I will die. She became a duck A duck all on the stream And he became a water dog And fetched her back again. She became a star A star all in the night And he became a thunder-cloud And muffled her out of sight. Chorus She became a rose, A rose all in the wood And he became a bumble bee And kissed here where she stood. Chorus She became a nun A nun all dressed in white And he became a canting priest And prayed for her by night. Chorus She became a trout, A trout all in the brook And he became a feathered fly And catched her with his hook. Chorus She became a corpse A corpse all in the ground And he became the cold clay And smothered her all around. | |
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The Viking's Christmas Carol
by Guy Bradley filk: T'was the Night Before Christmas Twas the night before Christmas and all through the hall Not a creature was stirring, not warrior nor thrall. The Vikings lay scattered about on the floor With visions of pillaging, looting, and more. And I in my curaiss, my greaves and my helm Was drunker than anyone else in the realm. I fell up the stairs and collapsed into bed While four quarts of mead were ablaze in my head. When down from below came the sounds of a brawl, So I grabbed up my axe and ran down to the hall. I missed the last step and crashed down in a heap, Thinking "Why can't those lowlifes downstairs go to sleep!" When what to my hungover eyes should appear But two brawny strangers with mallet and spear. I said to myself, "We'll soon have them beat" When I noticed ten warriors laid out at their feet. I let out a yell and leapt into the fray. I'll always regret the poor choice that I made. The one laid his hammer up the side of my nose, And up, up, up to the rafters I rose. Then came a lone, frightened voice from the floor, "Those are no mortal warriors, that's Odin and Thor!" They looked at each other. They said, "Battle's done." Now they know who we are, it is no longer fun. Thor raised his hammer, his elbow he bent And with a loud crash, through the ceiling they went. I crawled though the hall and flung open the door Not sure that I really had seen them before. With the snow bathed in starlight, the moon like a gleed I saw them ride off on an eight-legged steed. And I heard them exclaim as they rode out of sight, "To hell with Christmas, we just love a good fight!" | |
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Wearin' of the Green
traditional
Oh Paddy dear did you hear the news that's goin' round The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground St. Patrick's day no more we'll keep, his color can't be seen For there's a cruel law agin' the wearin' of the green I met with Napper Tandy and he took me by the hand And he said, "How's poor old Ireland, and how does she stand?" She's the most distressful country that ever you have seen They're hangin' men and women there for wearin' of the green Then since the color we must wear, is England's cruel red Sure Ireland's sons will ne'er forget the blood that they have shed You may take the shamrock from your hat, and cast it in the sod But 'twill take root and flourish still, tho' underfoot 'tis trod When the law can stop the blades of grass from growin' as they grow And when the leaves in summertime their verdure dare not show Then I will change the color I wear in my Caubeen But 'till that day, I'll stick for aye to wearin' of the green But if at last our color should be torn from Ireland's heart Her sons with shame and sorrow from the dear old soil will part I've heard whisper of a country that lies far beyond the say Where rich and poor stand equal, in the light of freedom's day Oh, Erin must we leave you, driven by the tyrant's hand Must we ask a mother's welcome from a strange but happy land Where the cruel cross of England's thralsdom never shall be seen And where, in peace, we'll live and die, a-wearin' of the green | |
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Welsh History 101
by Heather Rose Jones filk: The Ash Grove If ever you wander out by the Welsh border Come stop by and see me and all of my kin. I'm Morgan ap Dafydd ap Gwion ap Hywell Ap Ifor ap Madoc ap Rhodri ap Gwyn. We'll feast you on mutton and harp for your pleasure And give you a place to sleep out of the cold Or maybe we'll meet you out on the dark roadway And rob you of horses and weapons and gold. My neighbor from England has come across raiding Slain six of my kinsmen and burned down my hall. It cannot be borne, this offense, this injustice! I've only killed four of his, last I recall. I'll send for my neighbors, Llewellyn and Owain We'll cut him down as for the border he rides! But yesterday Owain stole three of my cattle So first I'll retake them and three more besides. We need a strong prince to direct our resistance Heroic, impartial, of noble degree. My brother's wife's fourth cousin's foster son Gruffydd Is best for the job, as I'm sure you'll agree. What matter that Rys is the old prince's nephew? He's sailed off to Ireland and will not return. I know this for every time boats he is building I send my spies money to see that they burn. Yes, we are just plain folk who mind our own business Honest and loyal and full of good cheer So if ever you wander out by the Welsh border Come stop by and see all the friendly folk here. | |
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Woad of Harlech
filk: Men of Harlech
What's the use of wearing braces, Hats or spats or shoes with laces Vest and pants you buy in places Down on Broughampton Road? What the use of shirts of cotton Studs that always get forgotten These affairs are simply rotten, Better far is woad! Woad's the suff to show men, Woad to scare your foemen! Boil it to a brilliant blue And rub it on you legs and abdomen! Ancient Britons never hit on Anything as good as woad to fit on Necks or knees or where you sit on, Tailors, you'd be blowed! Romans came across the Channel All dressed up in tin and flannel Half a pint of woad per man-o Clothed us more than these! Saxons, you may save your stitches Building beds for bugs in britches. We have woad to clothe us which is Not a nest for fleas. Romans, keep your armors, Saxons, your pajamas! Hairy coats were made for goats Gorillas, yaks, retriever dogs and llamas! March on, Snowdon, with your woad on Never mind if you get rained or snowed on Never need a button sewed on, Good for us today! | |