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                                     -trans.: Ioseph of Locksley
                         CAMBRIAN DREAM
                              -Gwydion PenDerwyn
                              copyright probably to Nemeton
      In the mountains of Cambria, by Rhymney's bright stream
      I have oft slept in heather, and dreamed a bright Dream
      No mortal could wake me, nor see what I've seen
      No landscape could ever compare.
      'Twas the Land of my Fathers, unfettered, and free
      Ere the time that the Saxon swept over the Sea
      When mistletoe grew 'neath the shining Oak Tree
      No landscape could ever compare!
      (Chorus): Dreaming of Prydein, asleep on a hill
                When I awaken, will you be there still?
                Oh, Island of Poets, my dreams you can fill
                But never the long waking hours.
      Mighty Poets and Warriors traversed every road
      Leaving stories and legends wherever they strode
      Their pasts are recalled in the humblest abode
      In tales of the sunnier days.
      Now my story is ended, my song is all gone
      I have slept thru the evening, and into the dawn
      Yet still, I remember your Face, Albion,
      And your older, and much wiser ways!
                                 -Donovan Leitch
              Guinivere of the Royal Court of Arthur
              Dressed in white velvet, linen and lace.
              The rustle of her gown on the white marble staircase
              Sparkles on fingers, both slender and pale.
              (Chorus): the Jester he sleeps while the Raven he peeps
                        thru the dark foreboding skies
                        of the Royal Domain.
              Maroon-coloured wine, from the vinyards of Charlemagne
              is sipped by the Queen's Lips, and so tenderly.
              Indigo eyes in the flickering candlelight
              Such is the silence over Royal Camelot.
                      THE SONG OF GOLIAS
                               -John Meyers Meyers
                                copyright 1949 (from "Silverlock")
                               -tune by Gordon R. Dickson
      I have known both joy and grief, neat, and mixed together
      Cold and Heat I've known, and found both good drinking weather
      Light and Darkness I have known, seldom doubting whether
      Tammuz would return again, when he'd slipped his tether!
      I remember gaudy days when the Year was springing
      Tammuz, Gilgamesh and I, clinking Cups and singing
      Till Ininni sauntered by, skimpy garments clinging
      To her hips, and things like that: Tammuz left us, winging!
      So we welcomed Enkidu when he came to Erech
      He was rough as hickory bark, nothing of the Cleric!
      But his taste in Wine and Ale, THAT was Esoteric!
      And he used a drinking cup that would strain a derrick!
      Khumbaba then felt our strength 'neath the magic Cedars
      And we wrestled Anu's Bull, pride of Heaven's Breeders!
      Thrice we struck, and once he fell, drawing wolves for feeders
      while we strode where drinking men called for expert leaders.
      Tammuz must have joined us there, but he'd just got wedded
      And Ininni (blast the Wench!) hacked him as they bedded
      Such a honeymoon as that, I have always dreaded....
      For a drinking man is...spoiled...once he's been beheaded!
      So we waked him with a will, ale and teardrops pooling
      Then we drank to him for months, while the year was cooling.
      But he came back with the grass! Death was only fooling!
      Tammuz told us: "Fill my Cup! I'm both dry...and drooling!"
                          CUP OF WONDER
                                 -Ian Anderson
                                 recorded: "Songs from the Wood"
                                            Jethro Tull
                                 copyright 1977 Salamander Music
                                 pub. USA: Chrysalis Music Corp.

May I make my fond excuses for the lateness of the hour But we accept your invitation, and we bring you Beltane's Flower For the May Day is the Great Day, strung along the Old Straight Track And those who ancient Lines did Ley will heed this song that calls them back!

Ask the Green Man where he comes from, ask the Cup that fills with Red Ask the old grey Standing Stones who show the Sun His way to bed Question all as to their Ways, and learn the Secrets that they hold Walk the lines of Nature's Palm, crossed with Silver and with Gold.

      (Chorus): Pass the Word, and pass the Lady
                Pass the Plate to all who hunger!
                Pass the Wit of Ancient Wisdom
                Pass the Cup of Crimson Wonder!

Join in Black December's Madness! Lie in August's welcome Corn! Stir the Cup that's ever filling with the Blood of all that's born! For the May Day is the Great Day, strung along the Old Straight Track And those who ancient Lines did Ley will heed this Song that calls them back!

                         CUP OF WONDER II
                              -variant lyrics by Ioseph of Locksley

May I make my fond excuses for the lateness of the Hour But I accept your invitation, and I bring you Beltane's Flower For the May Day is the Great Day strung along the Old Straight Track And those who ancient Lines did Ley will heed this Song that calls them back!

Ask the Green Man where he comes from, ask the Sun his way to bed Ask the grey and Standing Stones where last they lay their head Ask the Lady where She's standing, growing young, and growing old Cross the Lines of Nature's Palm, marked with Silver, crossed with Gold For the May Day is the Great Day strung along the Old Straight Track And those who ancient Lines did Ley will heed this Song that calls them back!

Ask the Lady where She's standing in the green and growing corn! Take the Cup that's ever filling with the Blood of all that's born! For the May Day is the Great Day, strung along the Old Straight Track And those who ancient Lines did Ley will heed this Song that calls them back!

      So, pass the Cup, and pass the Lady!
      Pass the Plate to all who hunger!
      Pass the Wit of Ancient Wisdom
      Pass the Cup of Crimson Wonder!

(repeat verse 1)

                            ANNA THEA
                                 -Anonymous (PD)
                                 tune: Lydia Wood
                                 recorded by Judy Collins
              Lazlo Thea stole a stallion
              Stole him from the Misty Mountain
              And they chased him, and they caught him
              And in iron chains they bound him.
              Word was brought to Anna Thea
              That her brother was in prison
              "Give me gold and six white horses
              I will buy my brother's freedom."
              "Judge, Oh Judge please spare my brother
              I will give you gold and silver!"
              "I don't want your gold and silver;
              All I want are your sweet favours!"
              "Anna Thea, Oh my sister! 
              Are you mad with grief and sorrow?
              He will rob you of your Flower,
              And he'll hang me from the gallows!"
              Anna Thea did not heed him;
              Straightway to the Judge went running.
              In his golden bed, at midnight,
              There she heard the gallows groaning!
              Cursed be that Judge so cruel!
              Thirteen years shall he lie bleeding!
              Thirteen doctors shall not heal him!
              Thirteen shelves of drugs won't save him!
              Anna Thea, Anna Thea! 
              Don't go out into the forest!
              There, among the green pines standing,
              You will find your brother....hanging.
                       LORD OF THE DANCE
                              recorded by Joe Bethancourt 
                                          "Celtic Circle Dance"
      She danced on the water, and the wind was Her horn
      The Lady laughed, and everything was born
      And when She lit the sun and its' light gave Him birth
      The Lord of the Dance first appeared on the Earth
    (Chorus): Dance, dance, where ever you may be
              I am the Lord of the Dance, you see!
              I live in you, and you live in Me
              And I lead you all in the Dance, said He!
      I danced in the morning when the World was begun
      I danced in the Moon and the Stars and the Sun
      I was called from the Darkness by the Song of the Earth
      I joined in the Song, and She gave Me the Birth!
      I dance in the Circle when the flames leap up high
      I dance in the Fire, and I never, ever, die
      I dance in the waves of the bright summer sea
      For I am the Lord of the wave's mystery
      I sleep in the kernel, and I dance in the rain
      I dance in the wind, and thru the waving grain
      And when you cut me down, I care nothing for the pain;
      In the Spring I'm the Lord of the Dance once again!
      I dance at the Sabbat when you dance out the Spell
      I dance and sing that everyone be well
      And when the dancing's over do not think that I am gone
      To live is to Dance! So I dance on, and on!
      I see the Maidens laughing as they dance in the Sun
      And I count the fruits of the Harvest, one by one
      I know the Storm is coming, but the Grain is all stored
      So I sing of the Dance of the Lady, and Her Lord:
      The Horn of the Lady cast its' sound 'cross the Plain
      The birds took the notes, and gave them back again
      Till the sound of Her music was a Song in the sky
      And to that Song there is only one reply:
      The moon in her phases, and the tides of the sea
      The movement of the Earth, and the Seasons that will be
      Are the rhythm for the dancing, and a promise thru the years
      That the Dance goes on thru all our joy, and tears
      We dance ever slower as the leaves fall and spin
      And the sound of the Horn is the wailing of the wind
      The Earth is wrapped in stillness, and we move in a trance,
      But we hold on fast to our faith in the Dance!
  • more *
      Lord of the Dance (cont.)
      The sun is in the southland and the days grow chill
      And the sound of the horn is fading on the hill
      'Tis the horn of the Hunter, as he rides across the plain
      And the Lady sleeps 'til the Spring comes again
      The Sun is in the Southland and the days lengthen fast
      And soon we will sing for the Winter that is past
      Now we light the candles and rejoice as they burn
      And we dance the Dance of the Sun's return!
      They danced in the darkness and they danced in the night
      They danced on the Earth, and everything was light
      They danced out the Darkness and they danced in the Dawn
      And the Day of that Dancing is still going on!
      I gaze on the Heavens and I gaze on the Earth
      And I feel the pain of dying, and re-birth
      And I lift my head in gladness, and in praise 
      For the Dance of the Lord, and His Lady gay
      (repeat verse 1)
                          BORED IN THE SCA! 
                                      -various Marklanders
                                      -tune: "Born in the USA"
      BORED in the SCA!
      Oh, I'm a LORD in the SCA!
      I use "Prince Valiant" for historical sources!
      I'm a knight, but where are the horses?!
      Bright colors and panty hose!
      Polyester from my head to my toes!
      Oh, I am BORED in the SCA!
      Yes, I am BORED in the SCA!
      Over there's a Samurai, I think,
      Must because of the fishy stink!
      I'm a King in Fantasyland,
      Don't fight with steel, I use bare rattan!
      Oh, I am BORED in the SCA!
      Joined the HORDE in the SCA!
      Now I can rape and pillage and burn
      Goon the jerks that never learn!
      Looks like ( insert name of choice ) is here!
      Hide the chickens, and dogs and beer!
      I was BORED in the SCA!
      I was BORED in the SCA!
      Joined the HORDE in the SCA!
      Joined the HORDE in the SCA!
                               -Wm. Butler Yeats
                        recorded by Judy Collins
              I went out to the hazel - wood
              Because a fire was in my head
              Cut and peeled a hazel - wand
              Tied a berry to a thread
              And when white moths were on the wing
              And moth - white stars were flickering out
              I dropped the berry in a stream
              And caught a little silver trout..........
              I had but laid it on the bank
              And gone to blow the fire a-flame
              Something rustled in the air
              Something called me by my name!
              It had become a glimmering Girl
              With apple - blossom in her hair
              Who called me by my name, and ran
              And vanished in the brightening air........
              Though I am old, with wandering
              Thru hilly lands, and hollow lands;
              I'll find out where she has gone
              To seek her lips, to take her hands-
              And walk thru long green dappled grass;
              To pluck 'til Time, and times are done:
              The Silver Apples of the Moon;
              The Golden Apples of the Sun...............
                      SHE MOVED THRU THE FAIRE
                                  -Padraic Colum
                      recorded by Theodore Bikel
              My young love said to me: My mother won't mind
              And my father won't slight you for your lack of kind
              She put her arms 'round me; these words she did say:
              It will not be long, love, 'til our wedding day!
              Then she stepped away from me, and she moved thru the Faire
              And so fondly I watched her move here and move there
              At last she turned homeward, with one star awake
              As the Swan in the evening moves over the lake.
              Last night she came to me, my dead love came in
              And so soft did she move that her feet made no din
              She put her arms 'round me; these words she did say:
              It will not be long, love, 'til our wedding day!
                      THE MUSKETEER'S SONG
                              -Tamara fitzGloustre of the White Boar
                                with additions by Ioseph of Locksley
                               -tune: "Mouseketeer's Song"
      Who's the leader of the troop that's made for me and thee?
      He who hands the muskets out: Good old King Louis!
      Zounds! Gadzooks! Well Met, Lads! Fill your tankards up with me!
      And toast His Grace who sets the pace: Good old King Louis!
      (Chorus): Musketeers! ( Cardinal's Guards! )
                Musketeers! ( Cardinal's Guards! )
                Forever we defend the Fleur-de-Lis!
                                    (Thrust! Parry! Thrust!)
      Bring a sword and spit a Lord who works for Du Plessis;
      Give a hand to Good Queen Anne, wife to King Louis!
      Cavaliers and Roundheads, sing this song along with me:
      Cheers for Athos, Porthos, D'Artagnan and Aramis!
      deBergerac had quite a knack, and so, m'lads, have we!
      So drink 'em down and set 'em up for good old King Louis!
      Sharpen up your rapiers and put on your foppery,
      And raise your voices to the skies and sing in harmony:
      (Slowly, with lechery:)
      Come you here, my pretty Maid, and sit upon my knee.........
      C-A-V ("V" is for VICTORY!)
      A-L-I (I'm for France! (or England, or Cromwell, or Myself...&c.)
                          THE CHILDISH EDDA
                              -Bela of Eastmarch, KSCA
                               Ron Ellik
                              -tune: "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp"
      Yggdrasil, where Nine Worlds clash, is a noble piece of ash
      That shelters Norns and Gods and all that crew
      There, a Dragon gnaws the base of an Eagle's resting place,
      And four Harts, a Goat and Squirrel are there too!
      Frigga took a year or so, and, except for mistletoe
      Got from everything an Oath for Balder's good
      Evil Loki wished him harm, so he hired Hodr's arm,
      And the staff the Blind God threw was kissing-wood!
      Tyr vowed Fenris-Wolf his hand if he couldn't break the Band
      That All-Father's wisdom made both light and hefty...
      Lupine muscles strained away, but the magic held its' sway -
      And from then on, till The Time, they called Tyr "Lefty!"
      When Thor went out to fish, he quickly got his wish,
      and he hauled a Jormangandr from the Bay.
      But Hymr cut the cable, and Thor was only able
      To brag about the "one that got away..."
      When Thor called upon the Giants, they didn't show defiance,
      But they soon got rid of him, and of his Hammer!
      For the sea he could not swallow, and old Grandmaw beat him hollow,
      And the House-Pet caused an awful katzenjammer!
      Asa-Thor became a "her" for to repossess Mjollnir,
      And unto a frosty brute his troth did plight;
      But the vittles that he ate would an army more than sate,
      And the chefs at Utgard always rued that night!
      Each God's Apple every day, kept the doctor far away
      'Til a Giant captured Ydun from their Halls...
      Loki fetched home Bragi's Bride, with Her health-food store beside,
      Plus a char-broiled eagle underneath the Walls!
      Odin said to Mim: "I think I would sort of like a drink."
      Answered Mim: "That will cost you your left eye!   
      For you've come up very late to the Well at Wisdom's Gate
      And the set-up prices, after hours, are high!"
      Oh, the Giants brought their War up to Bifrost's very Door
      And the battling wrecked Asgards perfect clime-
      Jormungandr, Hel and Fenris dealt out Death in doses generous
      And, in fighting, did the Aesir pass The Time!
                      DEAR KINDLY LOCAL HERALD
                               -Goldwyn of Britain
                           -tune: "Officer Krupke"

Submittor: Dear kindly local herald, I'm new - fresh off the farm.

          The SCA's fantastic!  I want a coat of arms!
          I don't like heralds muchly.  Your terms all leave me bored.
          This I know - I think I want a sword.

Local: Dear kindly newcomer, don't bring it to me.

          Baronial Pursuivant is the one you should see.
          In heraldic terms it's called "passing the buck"
          So, go away... and best of luck.

Submittor: Best of luck? Local: Best of luck! Best of luck! You'll need all your pluck

          To submit.  I'll wish you best of luck.

Submittor: Dear Baronial Pursuivant, I'm told to come to you

          So, here is my submission. I know it will go through
          I've got a rampant dragon, a sword that's upside down.
          Over all there is a golden crown!

Baronial: Dear kindly submittor, I've bad news for you.

          It's nice, but you are shy about a copy or two.
          Before this submission the College will see -
          We should have told you - we need three.

Submittor: You need three? Baronial: We need three copies - three! We need one, two, three.

          Need eight bucks and copies one, two, three.

Submittor: Dear kindly Kingdom Herald, my name and my device

          I've shown to other heralds.  They say it's really nice.
          My lady's made a banner - I've fiberglassed my shield.
          Pass it and my future will be sealed.

Kingdom: Dear kindly submittor, I'm sorry to say

          That at the herald's meeting that we had yesterday,
          We checked our books singly, we checked them en masse;
          I've got to tell you - it won't pass.

Submittor: It won't pass? Kingdom: It won't pass, it won't pass. It conflicts and won't pass.

          You can bet your ass it will not pass.

Submittor: Dear Laurel King (Queen) of Arms. I'm running out of hope

          The pressure's getting to me.  I really cannot cope.
          The herald's I've avoided, the tourneys I have missed...
          I've been patient.  Now I'm getting pissed!

Laurel: Dear pesky submittor, quit bothering me.

          'Cause heralds don't respond to an emotional plea.
          I'm not gonna pass it, unless you consent
          To start again - and document!

Submittor: Document! Laurel: Document, document ere I give assent.

          That is what I said and what I meant!

Local: The trouble is it's simple. Baronial: It's overly complex. Kingdom: The trouble is it's marshalled. Laurel: It's like Purina Chex! Heralds: The trouble is it has all the troubles we have known Submittor: Heralds I've got troubles of my own!

          Dear Board Of Directors - I'm pleading wit'youse
          And here is all my research which you cannot refuse.
          Besides all of this, there is just one more thing....
          I just became my Kingdom's King!
                                    -Goddwyn of Britain
                   -tune: "It's A Small World After All"
              'Twas in fourteen hundred and ninety-two
              Chris Columbus sailed 'cross the ocean blue
              Didn't find what he'd planned,
              So he told Ferdinand
              It's a New World after all!
                      It's a New World after all (3x)
                      It's a Brand New World!
              So it isn't India - we won't get spice,
              They have things there, King, that are just as nice!
              There's a spring there, forsooth,
              Called the Fountain of Youth!
              In that New World, after all!
                      It's a New World after all,
                      And it's round just like a ball!
                      That Italian showed 'em all!
                      It's a Brave New World!
              It's a world of treasure, a World to gain!
              It's a world of riches, and all for Spain!
              It'll be oh so fine
              When the Pope draws the Line!
              It's a New World after all!
                      It's a New World, after all,
                      Like an Eden ere the Fall,
                      We won't share with Portugal!
                      'Cause it's Spain's New World!
              Oh, the Natives are friendly as they can be,
              Gave us gifts of maize, and a little VD,
              And the folk, not a one,
              Heard of Lief Eriksson!
              So it's Spain's world after all!
                      Go to Spain's world, one and all,
                      Get there if you have to crawl!
                      I hear El Dorado call,
                      There in Spain's New World!
              Oh, the Aztecs and Mayans have lots of gold,
              And the Incas have more, or so we've been told,
              When those far western shores
              Meet the Conquistadores,
              Then it's Spain's world, after all!
                      When it's Spain's world, after all,
                      Then on England soon will fall
                      The Armada, strong and tall,
                      'Cause it's Spain's New World!
                                      -Author Unknown
                       -recorded by the Kingston Trio
              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 long, long years ago!
              And she comes back a 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!
              (BRIDGE): The Sentrys think that it's a football
                            That she carries in
                        And when they've had a few they shout:
                           "Is Army going to win?"
                        They think that it's Red Grange instead
                            Of poor old Anne Boleyn
                        With her head tucked underneath her arm!
              Sometimes Good King Henry gives a spread
              For all his pals and gals, a ghastly crew!
              The Headsman carves the joint, and cuts the bread,
              Then in comes Anne Boleyn to queer the do!
              She holds her head up with a wild war-whoop!
              And Henry cries: "Don't drop it in the soup!"
                            MEN OF GARLIC
                                 -Robert L. Plunkett
                            copyright 1987 R.L.Plunkett
                            -tune: "Men of Harlech"
                 Men of Garlic, heads so hollow
                 Where they go the smell must follow
                 With their drugs and with their Gallo,
                 Wine, drugs, port and bheer!
                 See them wear, as is their habit,
                 Men's bikinis made of rabbit
                 Showing off ten yards of flab, it
                 Doesn't quite endear!
                 See their boasting blunder!
                 Like a rolling thunder!
                 Watch them press against a dress,
                 And whisper: "Lady, I was born to plunder!"
                 Tell them that their smell is evil,
                 They'll answer: "Hygiene's not medieval!"
                 As they cause a small UPheaval....
                 Every time they're near!

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