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                         AIR FALALALO
      There's lilt in the song I sing, there's laughter and love
      There's tang of the sea, and blue from Heaven above!
      Of reason there's none; and why should there be, for why?
      As long as there's fire in the blood, and light in the eye!
      CHORUS: Air falalalo horo, air falalalay (3X)
              Falee, falo, horo, air falalalay!
      The heather's ablaze wi' bloom, the myrtle is sweet
      There's song in the air; the road's a song at our feet!
      So step it along as light as the bird on the wing!
      And, stepping along, let's join our voices and sing:
      And whether the blood be Highland, Lowland or no,
      And whether the hue be black or white as the snow;
      Of kith and of kin, we are One, be it right, be it wrong,
      If only our hearts beat true to the lilt of the song!


                   A LESSON
A charming master minstrel came travelling South one day
Dressed he was in robes so fine, bright with colors gay
And when he arrived at the inn where he had planned to stay
He called to the serving wench and to her did say
"Fetch me down some ale to drink for my throat is dusty!
For it would never never do if my voice were rusty!
Do be sure the sheets are clean and the room's not musty
Come a little nearer, dear, you seem a wench most lusty!"
The wench then did as she was bid and served a dinner fine
The minstrel ate and then he called for a flagon full of wine
Ans while he drained the flagon full he called the wench divine
And as in answer to his prayers the wench brought him more wine
The minstrel drank his wine more ribald grew his songs
The wench did leave the minstrels side...but not for very long!
Coming back she brought more wine, how could she do wrong?
If the minstrel matched his songs he was very, very strong!
The hour grew late and still the minstrel did not seem to tire
All his songs had done to her was stoke her passion higher!
And at last the room was full and dying was the fire
"Four o'clock and alls well" sang the town's crier
Suddenly the minstrel tired and needed help to bed
He called to the serving wench and to her he said
"Walk before me with the candle for I must be led
For my senses, like the wine, seemingly are fled!"
Then she led him to a room that had been set aside
Wondering about his sudden needing of a guide
Thinking about all the wine which he had imbibed
Ardently she hoped the songs about him hadn't lied
The wench did turn her back to him and closed the chamber door
The minstrel then did fall in bed and he began to snore
To herself she said as she looked for wine to pour
"To this man I should have served less wine instead of more.."
Now I've come to the end and moral of this tale
Ladies if you'd like to spend your evening without fail
And you do not wish to hear him snoring like a whale
Limit then his intake of spirits, wine and ale!


              ALWAYS A HERALD 
                  -Silverwolf Moonshadow 
       (Tune: "Always a Woman," by Billy Joel)

     He can call you in court
     And bring tears to your eyes
     He can lose your device
     In his casual files
     And he only will read
     What is in Heraldese
     He draws like a child
     But he's always a herald to me
     He will take your device
     He can pass you or fail you
     You can show him your proof
     But he'll never believe you
     And he'll take your four copies
     Along with his fee
     Yeah he charges too much
     But he's always a herald to me
     Oh, he takes care of your name
     It can wait if he wants
     He is always behind
     And he never gives out
     He just keeps taking in
     And gets further behind
     And he'll summon you forth
     In front of the kingdom
     Then he casually praise you
     And smile while your kneeling
     But he'll shout out your name
     Just as wrong as can be
     Blame it all on the scribe
     Cause he's always a herald to me
     He's frequently loud
     And he's seldomly clear
     He cries poorly at Pennsic
     For he's full of cheap beer
     He can't be retired
     He does it for free
     And the most he will do
     Is shout 'Oyez' at you 
     But he's always a herald to me


We're coming, we're coming, our brave little band,
On the right side of temperance we do take our stand.
We don't use tobacco because we do think
That the people who use it are likely to drink.
CHORUS: Away, away with rum by gum, 
        With rum by gum, with rum by gum!
        Away, away with rum by gum!
        The song of the Temperance Union!
                        (Salvation Army)
We never eat fruitcake because it has rum
And one little bite turns a man to a bum,
Oh, can you imagine a sorrier sight
Than a man eating fruitcake until he gets tight?
We never eat cookies, because they have yeast,
And one little bite turns a man to a beast.
Can you imagine such a sorry disgrace,
As a man in the gutter with crumbs on his face?
We don't drink Coke or Pepsi, they're made from cocaine,
And you might as well shoot it right into your vein.
Oh, can you imagine a sorrier bind
Than rotting your teeth while blowing your mind. (1)
We never drop tea, cause it comes from a pot,
And that could be evil as likely as not,
We don't mind the taste, but it's really bad news,
To get busted for holding what Tom Lipton brews. (1)
We don't step on grapes because that's making wine,
And one single stomp turns a man to a swine.
Can you imagine a fouler defeat,
Than a man getting stonkered by licking his feet? (1)
Shun girls who are witty and pretty and kind
There's nothing like love for corrupting your mind.
At least in -our- circle it just isn't done
Our kids are adopted; we -never- have fun. (1)
We don't buy any cereal because its called mush
And one little bite turns a kid to a lush
Oh, can you imagine the pain of a Ma
To watch little Junior act just like his Pa! (2)
We don't take any rub-downs, stiff muscles to cure
Because alcohol turns a man to a boor
O, can you imagine a sorrier fate:
Than a man getting mass-aged 'till he can't stand up straight? (2)
We don't allow backrubs, we think they're a crime
We will always condemn them in song or in rhyme
An alcohol backrub is worse than straight gin:
When you think of the liquor absorbed thru your skin! (4)

5 Away With Rum (cont.)

We don't watch television because its a sin
To exhibit the body of a nude Rin-Tin-Tin
And all those bad cowboys a-shooting their guns!
And a-shooting again when they show the re-runs! (3)
When you go out dining, you're tempted to eat
All the delicacies on a menu elite
Remember this warning, on wine we've a ban;
Try spaghetti and meatballs and -not- coq au vin! (4)
We never drink milk, that's where kumiss comes from
And one tiny sip makes a Mongoloid bum!
Oh, can you imagine a sadder disgrace
Than a stone blind drunk Mongol with milk on his face? (5)
We never touch coffee, it makes our eyes gleam
At least, when they add irish whiskey and cream
Oh, can you imagine a fate so unkind
Than slugging down coffee, and getting stone-blind? (6)
Since eggnog is evil, we never eat eggs
Give way to one sin and who knows what comes neggst?
There might be excuses for brandy or gin
But who wants DTs on account of some hen? (6) 
We wish you'd avoid putting ice in your drink
It harms your intestines and palate, we think
And if you escape that, it still isn't nice
To wake up hung over because of bad ice! (6)
We never drink water, they mix it with gin
Just one little sip and a man starts to grin
Oh, can you imagine a sillier clunk
Than a man swigging water until he's geshtunk? (6)
Now if you ride railroads with bar-cars on trains
You're giving the Devil the key to your brains
Think of a story that's sadder to tell
Than to start from Grand Central and wind up in Hell! (7)
We never eat jelly, they make it with wine
And one little bite turns a man to a swine
Can't you envision, in Hell he will roast,
That teen-ager drunk on his jelly and toast! (8)
We never use mouthwash, we know very well
That those who taste alcohol go straight to Hell
Oh, can you imagine a sorrier scene
Than a man down in Hell 'cause he used Listerine? (8)
We never eat choc'late, 'cause its just like sex
The endorphins will make you a moral wreck
You'll finish the bag-full, all covered with sweat....
And then you just -gotta- have a cigarette! (5)

6 Away With Rum (cont.)

We don't read Science-Fiction, 'cause its too complex
And Heinlein and Farmer just talk about sex!
That Lazarus Long is a Dirty Old Man
He's a Bad Example to set for a Fan! (5)
We never drink tea, for they mix it with wine
And one little drink turns a man to a swine
Oh can you imagine a sorrier sight
Than a man drinking tea, and singing all night? (0)
We never use money, 'cause that's gam-bol-in'
And that, my good friends, is surely a SIN
Our life may be simple, it's surely a bore
But what else can you do when you tend to be poor? (0)
We never sing folk (filk) songs, they're evil and crude
They celebrate Sin, and their language is lewd
The language is shocking, the politics vile
And their grammar and rhetoric ain't got no style! (6)
When you meet a folk (filk) singer, you haven't much choice
But to sit there and listen while they prove they have no voice
And the shockingest thing to imagine by far
Is a girl with a G-string....upon her guitar! (3)
We don't listen to filk songs, it isn't our dish
We don't like Bob Kanefski, and -hate- Leslie Fish!
We know all the filkers will wind up in Hell
And besides, all them filksongs have a real Fish-y smell!  (5)
We don't listen to Rock, 'cause it's Satan's own vice
And the people who sing it are not very nice
Oh can you imagine, it fills us with dread
Me and the Bangles all sharing a bed!  //YEAH!// (5)
We don't mess with computers, they're the Devil's own thing
And one little byte puts your mind in a sling!
Oh can you imagine a sorrier sight
Than a computer-nerd taking byte after byte!  (5)
We don't play medieval, we think it's a cult
They wear funny clothing; they're quite difficult.
Oh can you imagine a worse thing to say
Than to say you're a member of the SCA?   (5)
So drinking and eating and loving you see,
Are bound to destroy Spi-ri-tu-al-i-ty.
Our tastes are austere and our virtue is sure.
We don't have much fun, but our honor is pure. (1)
We're coming, we're coming, our brave little band
On the right side of Temperance we do take our stand
We masturbate daily because we do think
That once you start screwing, you're likely to drink! (9)


  • * Away With Rum (cont.) 30 verses last update: 09/08/91 Known source credits: The first three verses are the "traditional" ones. (0) Source unknown (1) Stephen Whitis (2) Devera and Martin Marcus (3) Julius Kogan (4) Pat Herson (5) Joe Bethancourt (6) Dick Eney (7) Mark Glasser (8) Paula Smith (9) Jim Landau * 8 * THE BALLAD OF THE GREEN PERFORMER (Credited to Jane Rogge Fredericksen, Elise Krueger, Brian Murphy, and whoever else was in the car on the way home from Minrod's wedding) See-through tights You know those guys upon their legs called Puke and Snot? They can`t dance They get put down or juggle eggs an awful lot Three hundred kids They say they're snobs tried out today But hey, who cares? and all but three They're pretty nice will get no pay. for millionaires…. You rookies think I worked and prac- this is your chance ticed constantly to have a Fest- in hopes the staff ival romance would notice me If you'd avoid They showed me that embarrasment they really care Make sure to get They traded me a soundproof tent to Valleyfair (*amusement park competitor*) Last year I camped This is a mind- upon the ground expanding show The winds they blew I've learned so much the rain came down I didn't know This year my home I have discovered is watertight cosmic truth I've moved into It's four parts gin a Satellite. one part vermouth (*local brand of Porta-San, Porta-potty*) A minstrel lives This year we're get- upon her hat ting kind of mean You won't get rich We like to turn Remember that! the patrons green You'll never hear Our method to the clink of gold provoke unease unless you're cute We sing duets and five years old. In different keys! * 9 * BALLAD OF SAINT BUNSTABLE -Cerian Cantwr © copyright 1990 Charles Grab CHORUS: Guard the wine, guard the wine. No matter what may happen, you make sure that wine stays hid. Guard the wine, guard the wine. Now we all guard our wine like Saint Bunstable did. In an abbey on the coast of dear old England's shores, An alcoloyte, named Bunstable, was told to do his chores. He did not have an inkling of just what fate had in mind, Patron saint of fermentation, alcohaul, beer, mead, and wine. Bunstable, he was a simple soul, he wasn't very bright. But he did his duty faithfully, morning, noon, and night. His chores, they weren't too complex, for that would tax his head. On in particular was simple. This is what his abbot said: One fateful day came Viking raiders, like a dark wave on the coast. The abbey was unable to repel the Norsemen's host. Bunstable was in the cellar, heard them slaughter young and old. And though trembling with fear, he knew to do as he'd been told. The cellar door it had been locked, but the Vikings would break through So grimly looking round, he knew exactly what to do. He broke open each and every cask, he did not think of flight. And when the deed was done, he'd drunk every drop in sight. When the Vikings came downstairs, they were somewhat less than pleased That Bunstable had drunk the wine, there was none to be siezed. They threatened Bunstable with flame, but when fire met his breath, There was a great explosion, and they all burned to death. When the Vikings reached Valhalla, they were certainly surprised, And for his act of brav'ry Bunstable was canonized. It truly is a miracle, to drink up as he did, And it is to his credit that he kept the wine well hid. * 10 * THE BARNYARDS O'DELGATY As I gang doon by Turra Market, Turra Market for t'fee I fell in wi' a farmer chiel, by th' Barnyards O'Delgaty Chorus: Luntin addie, turin addie, luntin addie turin-ee Luntin lowrin' lowrin' lowrin', the barnyards o'Delgaty! He promised me the aye best horse that iver I set my een upon But when I gat t'his barnyard, there's naethin' there but skin and bone The auld black horse sat on her rump, th' auld grey mare sat on her wime And fer all I'd whup an' crack, they wouldna rise at yokin' time When I gang doon tae Kirk on Sunday, many's th' bonny lass I see Sittin' by her father's side, winkin' o'er th' pews at me! Oh I can drink and no be drunk, and I can fecht an' no be slaun, And I can lie wi' another man's lass and still be welcome tae my own! Noo me cannle is brunt oot, me snotter's fairly on the wane, Fare-ye-weel ye Barnyards: Ye'll niver catch me here again! (alternate verses 2 and 3:) He promised me the aye best hoor that iver I set my een upon But when I gat t'his barnyard, t'was naethin' there but skin-and-bone! The auld black hoor sat on her rump, th' auld grey mare sat on her wime And fer all I'd whup an' crack, I couldna rise at yokin' time! * 11 * BARTHOLOMEW ROBERTS -David Grossman copyright 1983 David Grossman I found him lyin' on a broken dock In a drunken sleep about four o'clock In the mornin' One leg good, the other one wood, His eye patched over just like it should, I woke 'im. I said "Excuse me, sir, but might you be A Bartholomew Roberts piracy?" He asked what it was to me….. I told him. "I, sir, am but an average Joe, A song-smith travelin' here and fro, I'd like to talk to you a bit before I go." He said, "My belly could use a little rum, you know." I gave him the bottle, and he turned to speak His face was old, his voice was weak He claimed to be the last of the crew's defeat By a British Man O'War off Cape Lopez CHORUS: Roberts was a gentleman Drank his tea from an old tin can Never touched a bottle, kept a clean ship and…. You'd never guess he was a pirate! He said "Our ship was as mighty as a sloop could be, Over four hundred vessles plundered we With our sacks full of biscuits we'd return to the sea Our Jolly Roger blowin' proud and free." "Once Roberts robbed a vessle of it's prize He'd return the ship to its' Captain's sorry eyes. Never questioned any man's disguise; Followed the Sabbath as he followed the skies." "I remember the day clear in me mind, We were scrubbin' the hull for the very last time, A British Man-of-War attacked from behind, We were too drunk to fight, we were too drunk to mind." "Well, I, by chance, swum under a pier, And escaped my fate thru luck and fear Roberts wasn't drunk, he was just too near; The thought of his death still fills me eyes with tears." I left the dock, and headed on, Put the pirate's words into a song, Roberts may be dead, but his story's not gone, (Though it's hard to believe he was a pirate!) * 12 * THE BEGGAR MAN I am a little beggar-man, a beggin' I have been I been three-score or more in this little Isle of green, And I'm known from the Liffey, down to Segume, And I'm known by the name of old Johnny Dhu! Of all the things a-goin', sure the beggin' is the best When an old man is tired he can sit down and rest Beggin' for his dinner, he has nothin' else to do Than to lie around his parlor on his old rig-a-doo! I slept in a barn down at Currabawn A wet night came on and I slept till the dawn With holes in the roof, and the rain a-comin' thru And the rats and the cats, they was playin' peek-a-boo! When who should awaken, but the woman of the house, With her white spotty apron and her calico blouse She became frightened, and I said "Boo! Arrah! Don't be afraid, ma'am, it's only Johnny Dhu!" I met a little flaxey-haired girl one day, "Good mornin' little flaxey-haired girl," I did say; "Well, good mornin' little beggar-man, and how do y'do? Wi' your rags and your tags and your old rig-a-doo?" I'll buy a pair of buckles, and a collar and a tie, And a nice young lady I will fetch, by and by, Buy a pair of stockings and I'll color them blue And an old fashioned lady I will make of you! Over the road with me pack on me back Over the fields wi' me great heavy sack! With holes in me shoes, and the toes a-peekin' thru Singin' skin-a-ma-rink-a-doodle-dum for old Johnny Dhu! I must be goin' t'bed, for it's gettin' late at night And the fires all banked, and out goes the light Now you've heard the story of me old rig-a-doo, It's goodbye and God be with ya, says old Johnny Dhu! (Note: the melody is known also as "The Little Red-Haired Boy") * 13 * BERSERK RAG (written A.S.IV) -Anonymous (Tune: "Feel Like I'm Fixin' To Die Rag") I just read in my TI That we should all prepare to die For you must fight within the lists As though there's steel within your fist When you get out there to fight, you swing with all your might! For it's one, two, three, why do we strike full force? Don't tell me that's absurd, I follow Bersark's word And it's five, six, seven, open up the pearly gates Well, ours is not to question why– Whoopie, we're all going to die! Walk across the people bunchin', Listen to the bones a-crunchin' See the fighters start to hurt, Watch the blood fall out in spurts Be the first one on the floor to fall all covered with gore Splinter temples, sever arteries, Shatter craniums, hit 'em harder please Hit so hard they'll hear it in Donegal, But list your injuries with the Seneschal If you can't knock off his head, hit 'em in the kidneys instead Set your sword against the slim one And get pounded by the grim one If you think that you're the best, Go and challenge Seldomrest Be the first Knight on your block to send your squire home in a box! For it's one, two, three, why do we strike full force? A rule we can't afford, let's complain to the Board! And it's five, six, seven, answer this if you will Wouldn't you like to be the first to die - Better yet first to kill! * * 14 * BOLD MARAUDER -Richard Farina © copyright 1967 Music Publishers Holding Corp. It's hi, ho, hey, I am the bold marauder! It's hi, ho, hey, I am the white destroyer! For I will buy you silver and gold and I will bring you treasure And I will bring a widowing flag and I will be your lover And I will show you grotto and cave and sacrificial altar And I will show you blood on the stone and I will be your mentor And night will be our darling and fear will be our name It's hi, ho, hey, I am the bold marauder! It's hi, ho, hey, I am the white destroyer! For I will take you out by the hand and lead you to the hunter And I will show you thunder and steel and I will be your teacher And we will dress in helmet and sword, and dip our tongues in slaughter And we will sing a warrior's song and lift the praise of murder And Christ will be our darling and fear will be our name It's hi, ho, hey, I am the bold marauder! It's hi, ho, hey, I am the white destroyer! For I will sour the winds on high and I will soil the rivers And I will burn the grain in the fields and I will be your mother And I will go to ravage and kill and I will go to plunder And I will take a Fury to wife and I will be your father And Death will be our darling and fear will be our name It's hi, ho, hey, I am the bold marauder! It's hi, ho, hey, I am the white destroyer! * 15 * BONNIE DUNDEE -Sir Walter Scott To the Lords of Convention 'twas Claverhouse spoke Ere the King's crown go down, there are Crowns to be broke So each Cavalier that loves honour and me Let him follow the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee! (Chorus): Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can Come saddle my horses and call out my men Unhook the west port and let us gae free For it's up wi' the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee! Dundee he is mounted, he rides up the street The bells they ring backward, the drums they are beat But the Provost (douce man!) said "Just e'en let it be!" "For the town is well rid of that devil, Dundee!" There are hills beyond Pentland, and lands beyond Forth Be there lords in the South, there are chiefs in the North! There are brave Duinnewassals three thousand times three Will cry "Hey for the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee!" Then awa' tae the hills, tae the lea, tae the rock, Ere I own a usurper, I'll crouch with the fox! And tremble, false Whigs, in the midst of your glee: Ye hae no seen the last o' my bonnets….and me! * * BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL Hie upon Highlands, and laigh upon Tay, Bonnie George Campbell rode out on a day Saddled and bridled and gallant rode he, Hame cam his guid horse, but niver cam he! Saddled and booted and bridled rode he A plume tae his helmet, a sword at his knee, But toom cam his saddle, all bluidy tae see, Hame cam his guid horse, but niver cam he! Doon cam his auld mithir, greetin' fu' sair, Oot cam his bonnie wife, rievin' her hair, "My meadows lie green, and my corn is unshorn, My barn is tae big, and my babe is unborn!" (repeat verse 1) * 16 * BORED OF THE DANCE -The Kipper Family recorded on "The Kipper Family-Fresh Yesterday" (Written by George Kipper, who is Mr. Kipper's uncle, as far as we know……) As I walked down to the village hall I met Charlie leanin' on the wall "Why are you standin' out here, Char-lee?" "Cause I am bored of the dance!" said he! CHORUS: Dance! Dance! What -ever- do they see? In prancin' round all the time, said he I'll leave them all to do it without me For I am bored of the dance, said he! I come to the dance with my girl, he said I told her that I'd rather go to bed, Oh yes I'm sure you would, said she, But first you'll come and dance with me! She said, You'll come and dance right now! But I weren't list'nin' when the caller told us how They "cast left," but "right" I went They danced on, but I ended in the "Gents'!" I drank with the Morris-men, James and John, They drank with me as the dance went on and on, We drank and we drank till it all went black. It's hard to dance when you're lyin' on your back! Oh, how she danced on the night they were wed She danced, he drank, and then they went to bed I'm afraid there's no more story to be told She was too hot, and he was out cold! * 17 * THE BORGIA REVEL -Anonymous (Tune: Unknown) The Borgias are giving a party There's a Borgia revel tonight! Isn't it sickenin' we've run out of strychinine! The gravy will have to have ground glass for thickenin' The poisoned chianti is terribly scanty But everything else is all right. I've hidden an asp in the iced canteloupe There's cyanide mixed with the mock-turtle soup And straight benzedrine in the apricot coupe At the Borgia revel tonight! The Borgias are holding a party! There's a Borgia revel tonight! The arsenic pasta should prove a disaster The Spanish fly pizza should work even faster The tank in the Ladie's should blow them to Hades If anyone turns on the light! When the butler flings open the dining room door There's a clever contraption concealed in the floor We're wondering who'll sit on the circular saw At the Borgia revel tonight! Our guests are exclusively chosen From people who give us a pain The cream of the jest is in knowing That they won't be back again! We'll have all the nobles of Naples At the Boria revel tonight! For the Duke's youngest son there's a monstrous cream bun Soaked in hot Prussic acid it's all good clean fun! We're pushing some people we know off a steeple They should have a wonderful flight The bodies will drop thru the trap door below To the Tiber and drift off to sea on the flow We think we can promise one hell of a show At the Borgia revel tonight! We revel in giving a party A fete, or a fancy masked ball! There's sure to be lots of excitement And a good time's to be had by all! The Borgia's are throwing a party There's a Borgia revel tonight! The soup minestrone is frightfully phony And laudanum reeks from the stewed macaroni We're feeling no pain when they put the henbane In the third tangerine from the right! We're bricking the Cardinal up in the wall His agonized screams won't disturb us at all As we sit there sipping our wormwood and gall At the Borgia revel tonight! * 18 * BRENNAN ON THE MOOR 'Tis of a brave young highwayman a story I will tell His name was Willie Brennan and in Ireland he did dwell T'was up on Killworth mountain he commenced his wild career And many a wealthy nobleman before him shook with fear CHORUS: And it's Brennan on the moor; Brennan on the moor, Bold, brave and undaunted stood young Brennan on the moor! One day upon the highway, as Willie he went down, He spied the Mayor of Cashell, a mile outside the town The Mayor he knew his features, and he said, "Young man!" said he Your name is Willie Brennan, you must come along with me! Now Brennan's wife had gone to town, provisions for to buy When she saw her Willie taken, she began to weep and cry Said: "Hand to me that ten-penny!" As soon as Willie spoke She handed him a blunderbuss from underneath her cloak! Now Brennan got his blunderbuss, the truth I will unfold He made the Mayor to tremble, and he robbed him of his gold! 100 pounds were offered for his apprehension there, But he, with horse and saddle to the mountains did repair Now Brennan is an outlaw upon the mountain high With cavalry and infantry to take him they did try But he laughed at them and scorned at them, until it was said By a false-hearted woman he was cruelly betrayed They hanged Brennan at the crossroads, in chains he swung and dried But still they say that in the night, some do see him ride They see him with his blunderbuss, all in the midnite chill Along, along the King's Highway rides Willie Brennan still! * 19 * BRIGHT SILVER BANDS -Thorsen Danske (Tune: "Black Velvet Band") While out on the field she is gallant A-toting a weapon or three Her opponents she leaves by the wayside A-wondering who she could be! She fights so well in a shield wall The enemy runs from her grin And she's so proficient at shield-hooks That her shield work has killed many men! CHORUS: Her sword, it shines like a mirror Her shield is the best in the land And her hair hangs out of her armour All braided with bright silver bands! The lads, they stare at a distance The lady does not understand That her countenance speaks of resistance From the loveliest lass in the land It's not that they dislike her armour For chainmail is pretty to see But at night she should hang up her weapons For in bed, blades are bad company! A young lad, he once tried to kiss her, As back from the field she did stroll But his nose got caught in her visor, And now he resembles a troll! A tale can be told of another Who wanted this lady to court But he rolled on top of her dagger And now he is three inches short! So take this advice, you young warriors, When a lady has taken the field Beware of the edge of her weapon, And also the edge of her shield! If you meet her again in the evening More cautious yet should be your game Or you'll travel home the next morning A-feeling exceedingly lame! * 20 * THE BURDEN OF THE CROWN -Baldwin of Erebor The battlefield is silent the shadows growing long Though I may view the sunset I'll not live to see the dawn The trees have ceased to rustle, the birds no longer sing All nature seems to wonder at the passing of a king And now you stand before me your father's flesh and blood Begotten of my sinews on the woman that I loved So difficult the birthing, the mother died that day And now you stand before me to take my crown away The hour is fast approaching when you come into your own When you take the ring and scepter and sit upon your throne Before that fatal hour when we each must meet our fate Pray gaze upon the royal crown and marvel at its weight This cap of burnished metal is the symbol of a land Supporting all we cherish, the dreams for which we stand The weight you'll find is nothing if you hold it in your hand The burden of the crown begins the day you put it on See how the jewels sparkle as you gaze on it again Each facet is a subject whose rights you must defend Every point of light a burden you must shoulder with your own And mighty is the burden of the man upon the throne The day is nearly ended, my limbs are growing cold I feel the angels waiting to receive my passing soul Keep well for me my kingdom, when my memory is dead And forgive me for the burden I place upon your head! * 21 * CAIDAN LADIES -Kaarna of the Amethyst The Scottish highland lassie, when in her tartan clad Will soft lay down her arisaid, and then raise up her lad! CHORUS: Beware of Caidan ladies, be cautious if you're smart They'll pinch the family jewels before they steal your heart! Before they steal your heart! A Tudor wears a corset to display her softer parts But the bands that bind the garment prove the metal of her heart! A Viking maid from Norseland is plunderful to behold She'll whisper silver night-dreams, then vanish with your gold! A Belly-Dancer shimmies her charms beneath a veil To tempt a shy lord bolder, and cause a prude to pale! Off-field, a lady fighter is beautiful, not tough, But cross her when she's armoured and you'll end up on your duff! The peasant maid of England, a lusty, winsome wench, Will roll you in a haystack, then get you in a clench! Lady cavaliers wear diamonds, and daggers have they none \\oh, yeah?
    Tho her lord may wield a rapier, her weapon is her tounge! * CALONTIR SHOULD STAND ALONE -Noddel of the Alan (Tune: "Sink The Bismark") Calontir should stand alone, and so say all of us We're gonna fight the Kingdom 'cause they're makin' such a fuss! CHORUS: Hit the field a-runnin' lads, and swing those blades around! We're gonna fight the Middle, 'cause the Middle let us down! Calontir should stand alone and fight for what is ours To have a King that is our own, and all the Kingdom powers! We're gonna fight the Middle 'cause the Middle wants us not We're gonna fight the Middle 'cause they left us here to rot! Knights we have deserving, who haven't got their belts This is surely proven by Ansteorran welts! The war-i-ors of Calontir have kept the Middle strong But we know our recompense has waited far too long! Artisans and crofters, rally to Calontir! Fight with scythe and hammer, beside the heart-land's fyrd! We will not be used again to fight the Middle's wars When next our warriors go to fight we'll be at the King's own doors! 22 * THE CELT CAME BACK -Anonymous (Tune: "The Cat Came Back") Now, one old King had troubles of his own Had a thick-skinned bard that wouldn't leave home He tried and he tried to send that bard away He sold him to a Dane going far, far away…… CHORUS: But the Celt came back, the very next day! They thought he was a goner, but the Celt came back He just wouldn't stay away! The local Baron said that he would shoot that Celt on sight So he loaded up his cannon with powder to the sight He waited and he waited for that bard to come around Itty-bitty pieces of the castle's all they found…. He gave him to a Visigoth going out East Saying "Sell him to the Mongols; feed him to a Beast!" They got up to the Channel, and they thought they'd get across Tomorrow they'll write off the 'Goth as bein' a total loss… He gave him to a serf with a ten-shilling note Take him out on the lake, take him out on a boat! They tied a rock around his neck, it must have weighed ten stone And now they drag the shoreline, 'cause the boat came back..alone.. They sent him to the Borgia's to have a little feast Kill him off with poisoned wine, use cyanide at least! He drank several barrels of the poisoned wine that day And now all the Borgias have all…passed away… He gave him to a knight, to use him for a pell Saying "Beat him smartly, I wanna hear him yell!" The knight armoured up, and sharpened up his sword No one's ever heard again of that knightly Lord…. The Greek Fire fell the other day Lightning from Heaven in the very same way! Egypt's gone, Greece is gone, Sumeria's gone, Rome is gone… They've all passed away The whole Ancient World crumbled into dust that day CHORUS: But the Celts came back the very next day Thought that they were goners, but the Celts came back They just couldn't stay away! * * 23 * CHILDREN OF DARKNESS -Richard Farina © copyright 1967 M. Witmark & Sons Now is the time for your loving, dear, and time for your company. Now that the light of reason fails, and fires burn on the sea; Now in this age of confusion I have need of your company. For I am a wild and lonely child, and the son of an angry man; And now, with the high wars raging, I would offer you my hand! For we are the children of darkness and the prey of a grim command. It's once I was free to go roamin' in the wind of a springtime mind. And once the clouds I sailed upon were sweet as lilac wine. Then why have the breezes of summer, dear, been laced with a grim design? And where was the will of my father when he raised his sword on high? And where was my mother's wailing when our flags were justified? And where will we take our pleasure when our bodies have been denied? Now is the time for your loving, dear, and time for your company. Now that the light of reason fails, and fires burn on the sea; Now in this age of confusion I have need of your company. * * THE CHILL EASTERN WINDS -Andy Stewart Prepare you sweet flowers, for winter advances And drink well the sunlight that touches your form Draw strength from the Earth, and repay her with beauty For the dark days are comin', oh, and they'll do y'harm CHORUS: When the chill eastern winds replace summer breezes And the long summer days are remembered no more Then you'll know how it feels when a woman's love changes When at last she has told you she loves you no more I saw her today when she walked with her new love In all the fine places that we'd walked before They kissed by the rocks where she told me she loved me And soon she'll be using those same words once more There's none that could blame me for wanting her beauty But it lies like a snowflake in the hands of a child When the warmth of my love tried to reach out and hold her It's then she was gone, to prove she's still wild * 24 * CHIVALRY -Morgana bro Morganwyg (Tune: "Lemon Tree") CHORUS: Chivalry, very pretty, and the ladies they are sweet But they find that the Mongols are impossible to beat! When I was just a lad of ten, my father said to me Come here and take a lesson from the belted Chivalry Don't put your trust in knights, my boy. my father said to me Come here and watch the Mongols kill the belted Chivalry! But when I grew, I fell in love and the lady said to me I think that I will keep my heart for the belted Chivalry I said that I'd become a knight as quick as quick can be The music of her laughter hid my father's words from me So off to Tourney I did go, a squire all belted red A rattan broadsword in my hand, a helmet on my head I stepped onto the tourney field, to fight so noble-lee Then a backhand blow from a knightly sword caved in my helm for me! They had to bear me from the field for I could hardly see But I could hear my lady wooing belted Chivalry! So if I ever love again, I know that you will see A girl who wants a Mongol love, not belted Chivalry! * 25 * THE CHIVALRY WENT FOR PIZZA -Cerian Cantwr © copyright Charles Grab 1990 CHORUS: And the chivalry went for pizza, They would not be denied. Yes, the chivalry went for pizza, With those pies they'd be supplied. The chivalry went for pizza, And they did cause quite a fuss, But the chivalry got the pizza, And they brought it back to us. It was Sunday after Pennsic The time dragged on and on and on The war was at an end. And still no pizza showed. We got to feeling hungry I tell to you most heartily, For the mundane world again. We were getting quite POed. We thought to order pizza, A last call to the restaurant And thus we sealed our fate. Said, pizza on your plate? For the pizza man, he told us, Take it easy, there's no problem, We would have two hours' wait. Just another hour's wait. Two hours came and went, Well folks, that finally did it, But no pizza did appear. The knights stood up to a man. That's when we got to wondering They decided to go into town Just what did go on here. Their weapons well in hand. A phone call to the restaurant The pizza shop they'd ransack, Assured us all was well, And the blood would freely flow. But 'twould be another half hour Well they retrieved our dinner, Ere the pizza we would smell. But just how, I do not know. The time it did pass slowly, Now gentles listen closely, Irritation, it did grow. And I shall tell you right. Our stomachs fell to grumbling, If Pennsic Sunday you want pizza, For our dinner did not show. You will have a hungry knight. When the time had all expired, The war, it may be over, Our thoughts, they did grow ill. But you should not forget, Especially when we heard If you go and order pizza, Another thirty minutes still. You'll have one more battle yet. * 26 * COME SHARE THE DREAM Lyrics by Sieglinde Syr Music by Sieglinde Syr and Iolo Fitz Owen Listen! The Laurel Branches sing; The wind give life thus to the song. Knighthood's flower breathes once more, Born and bloomed a-maying. And on a spring wind it has flown, From sea to sea these twenty years; Seedlings of the dream have sown Ten, to the fullest glory grown. We who are here have heard The voice calling from by-gone days "Come share the dream, come live the legends, Relearn the ancient ways." CHORUS: Come, share the dream, come hold it in your hands As it might once have been; Come live the legends that will never die Through us they live again. Reaching thru time, their touch is real, Upon the road of glory anon Side by side we ride with kings Bards shall sing our stories Tales are remembered skills not lost, As it once was it shall be again And through us our children will know Of the greatness long ago. Each spring's rebirth shall be the time When time it's pace would slow And for a moment take us once more Into the days of yore. Those who began it here join hands With those for whom the magic is new, And it's spell a siren's song, Calls us all to follow. Heed it we will and follow still ideals Born of fire and sword Born these twenty years ago (Where) mist and wind the laurels blow. And to our shores and mountains And plains carry the living dream, As it once was it has been again; Chivalry lives, my friend. Chivalry lives, my friend! * 27 * CRUSADER'S SONG -Conn MacNeil As my ship sets sail I watch the far coastline, Leaving my kinfolk my heart is sore pained. I've traded all for the cross at my shoulder, No land for a third son, so I'm away. (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 a fortune or a martyr I'll fall. 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 in battle, Now their eyes shine like their keen polished blades. We follow King Richard to Sicily Island, O'er Joanna's dowry 'gainst Tancred prevailed, Now a fortune in silver and a new wife hath Richard, And I've a swift horse and a fine coat of mail. Landfall at Cyprus, they refused Berengaria, Richard in anger has answered in steel, He's added the crown of Cyprus to England's, And I've added knighthood's gold spurs to my heels. I followed the banner to battle at Acre, And held it aloft when its bearer was slain. We've given Richard a tower of the city, He's given me rank and a full Captain's pay. At Arsouf on the coastline we met with the paynim, And we won the battle, though many men fell. One was a baron who's lands needed tending – Now they are MINE, and I'll tend them well! I sit in court over Christian and Moslem, I've a strong keep, and soldiers ten score, King Richard's army has set sail for England, I've said farewell, for I'll see them ne'er more. For I'm in the Holy Land staying, To guard my own castle walls. I'm in the Holy Land staying, For I've made my fortune, so farewell to all! * 28 * THE DANCER'S VANITY -Yang the Nauseating (Verses 1-3 by Middle Kingdom Guild of Exotic Dancers) (Tune: "Golden Vanity" Once there was a group and it fought with Tregirtsee And the name of the group was the Northwoods Barony And they feared they would be threatened by the Mongol enemy As they fought along the Inland, Inland, Inland, Fought along the Inland Sea! Then up there spoke a dancer, with her little sisters she Bravely said to the King, "What will you give to me? If I dance along the side of the Mongol enemy, And turn them from the Northwoods Barony, In their march along the Inland Sea?" "Well, I will give you silver, and I will give you gold, And my own chosen Queen each of you in turn will be, If you dance alongside of the Mongol enemy, And you turn them from the Inland, Inland….&c" Then she rode to the camp of the Mongol enemy To the camp of the Horde, fierce warriors proud and free, Saying, "Take me to your leader, or Warlord if you please, I'm sent here from the Northwoods Barony, I'm sure that he will speak to me!" Then she let drop her cloak, and in dancer's garb stood she, And she said to the Warlord, "All that you can see, And that which you cannot, I would freely give to thee, If you overlook the Northwoods Barony As you march along the Inland Sea!" "Oh well do I like silver, and well do I like gold, And the trust of my men is the thing most dear to me! But when I am confronted by a beauty such as thee, Then the Devil take the Northwoods Barony! We'll overlook them eagerly! She returned (the next morning) to the Northwoods Barony, And she said to the King, "We've achieved the victory! I have turned the march of the Mongol enemy! Now, where is the reward you promised me? The treasures of our Barony?" "Well, some kind of fool you must take for me to be, If you think I would give reward to such as thee, Who has openly consorted with the Mongol enemy, When they failed to reach the Northwoods Barony, In their march along the Inland Sea!" Then a great cry arose, and all did turn to see And there in their midst was the Mongol enemy! Who had never ceased their march on the Northwoods Barony! They had double-crossed the dancer, proud and free, Just like the Northwoods Barony! (more) 29 Dancer's Vanity (cont.) "Dear dancer and dear King," said the Warlord, full of glee, "Did you think that you could work your ploys on such as we? By your own rules, we return treachery for treachery! And you never will be rid of fools like me, If you try to deal in treachery!" The moral of this story - please listen while I sing - Is: Never trust a Dancer, a Mongol….or a King! For, if you do, some kind of fool you'll be, And they'll sink you in the Inland, Inland, Inland, Sink you in the Inland Sea! * 30 * DINNY THE PIPER -Traditional (?) Recorded by Andy M. Stewart "Dublin Lady" Green Linnet CSIF 1083 In the year '98, when our troubles were great It was treason to be a Milesian. And the black-whiskers said we would never forget And our history shows they were Hessians. And in these troubled times, it was a great crime And martyrdom never was riper Near the town of Glenshee, not an acre from Meath, Lived one Denny Burns, the Piper! Neither weddin' nor wake would be worth a shake If Denny was first not invited. For at squeezin' the bag, or emptyin' the keg, He astonished as well as delighted! But in these times Denny could not earn a penny, Martial Law had him stung like a viper! And it kept him within till the bones of his skin Grinned thru the rags of the piper! Now one day it did dawn, as Denny crept home, Back from a fair at Lethangin, When what should he see, from the branch of a tree, But the corpse of a Hessian, there hangin'! Says Denny, "These rogues have got boots, I've no brogues!" He took hold of the boots wi' a griper, And the boots were so tight, and he pulled with such might, Legs and all come away with the piper! Ah, then Denny did run for fear of bein' hung Til he came to Tim Haley's cabin. Says Tim from within, "I can't let ye in! Ye'll be shot if you're caught out there rappin'!" So he went to the shed where the cow was in bed, He began with a whisper to wipe her, And they lay down together, in seven foot of heather, And the cow took to huggin' the piper! Well the day it wore on, and Denny did yawn, And he stripped off the boots from the Hessian! And the legs, for the law, he just left in the straw, And he slipped home with his new possessions! Now breakfast bein' done, Tim sent his young son To get Denny up like a lamplighter, And the legs there he saw; he flew up like a jackdaw! And said "Daddy, the cow's et the piper!" Ah, bad luck to that beast, she's no musical taste! To eat such a jolly old chanter! Ah, faugh! We'll evict! Take a lump of a stick! Drive her off, down the road and we'll canter! Well the neighbors were called, Mrs. Kennedy bawled, She began for to humbug and jiper, And in sorrow they met, and their whistles they wet, And like devils, lamented the piper! 31 Denny The Piper (cont.) And the cow she was drove a mile or two off, And they came to a fair at Killaley. And there she was sold for four guineas of gold To the clerk of the parish, John Daley. And they went to the tent where the pennies were spent, Tim bein' a jolly old swiper, And who should be there, playin' a rake-sickal tear, Just your bold Denny Burns, the piper! Ah, then Tim give a jolt like a half-drunken colt, And he stares at the piper like a gammick! I thought, by the Powers, for the last sev'ral hours, You were playin' in the old cow's stomach! Well when Denny observed that the Hessian's been served Began just to humbug and jiper, Oh, in grandeur they met, and their whistles they wet, And like devils they danced round the piper! * DO VIRGINS TASTE BETTER? (Also known as - An Old Cliche Revisited) -R. Farran (Tune: "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 out a deal. No 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 of you, and many have tried. But no one can get thru 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 32 * A DRAGON'S RETORT (C) 1985 by Claire Stephens (Tune: "Irish Washerwoman") Well, now I am a dragon please listen to me For I'm misunderstood to a dreadful degree This ecology needs me, and I know my place, But I'm fighting extinction with all of my race But I came to this village to better my health Which is shockingly poor despite all my wealth But I get no assistance and no sympathy, Just impertinent questioning shouted at me. CHORUS: Yes, virgins taste better than those who are not But my favorite snack food with peril is fraught For my teeth will decay and my trim go to pot Yes, virgins taste better than those who are not Now we worms are deep thinkers, at science we shine And our world's complicated with every new line We must quit all the things that we've done since the flood Like lying on gold couches that poison our blood Well I'm really quite good almost all of the year Vegetarian ways are now mine out of fear But a birthday needs sweets I'm sure you'll agree And barbecued wench tastes like candy to me CHORUS As it happens our interests are almost the same For I'm really quite skillful at managing game If I messed with your men would your excess decline? Of course not, the rest would just make better time But the number of babies a woman can bear Has a limit and that's why my pruning's done there Yet an orphan's a sad sight, and so when I munch I'm careful to take out only virgins for lunch. CHORUS * 33 * DUCAL ESCALATION -Thorfinn Halfblind (Tune: "Who's Next" by Tom Leher) First we got Trelon, and that was good 'Cause we love peace and brotherhood Then Caid got Trelon, but that's OK The Balance of Power is maintained that way. Who's Next? The West got Trelon, but don't you grieve 'cause they're on our side, (I believe…) An Tir got Trelon, but have no fears… they can't beat us for at least ten years! Then Oertha claimed that they were gonna get one any day… Who's Next? Outlands makes their own, that's nice Winning Crowns at half the price! (ouch!) Calontir wants two, that's right! One for the Masters, one for the Knights! Who's Next? Midrealm's gonna get one too… just to use on you-know-who! Eastrealm's getting tense Wants one in self-defence! "The Horde's your buddy.", says the Khan But just in case…..we're gonna get Trelon! Who's Next? Lochac just went with the flow… Drachenwald's the next to go! We'll all try and stay serene and calm… When Artemisia gets Trelon… Who's Next? Who's Next? Who's NEXT?!? * 34 THE ENGLISH DRINKING SONG -Arven and Valerice Atwater (Tune: "Good Christian Men Rejoice") The English love their mead and ale They love to tell a bawdy tale Singing songs 'til early light Drink, Drink, An Englishman will drink all night. Fill his flagon over full He'll tell a tale then take a pull The English love to drink The English love to drink The wenches they like their mead too They love to see what men will do They swish their skirts, then fly away. Drink, Drink An English wench will drink all day. Fill her flagon over full She'll wink her eye, then take a pull. The English love to drink The English love to Drink When wenches wink their eyes and run The men may chase, but just for fun It's rough and tumble all night long Drink, Drink with wine and women sing a song Fill your flagon over full And pinch a tail, then take a pull The English love to drink The English love to Drink These wenches, they're a rowdy lot Drinking makes their tempers hot A jealous wench will fight 'til dawn Drink, Drink, she'll take a drink and then fight on Fill her flagon over full She'll bite and kick, then take a pull The English love to drink The English love to Drink The Englishman who drinks his fill Will in the morning be quite ill He'll fall asleep and dream 'til when Drink, Drink, the night comes and he drinks again Fill his flagon over full With bleary eyes he takes a pull The English love to drink The English love to Drink The English maid who drinks 'til morn Will wish that she had ne'er been born All day long she'll sit in bed Weep, Weep, and while weeping nurse her head Fill her flagon over full She told her tale and took a pull The English love to drink The English love to Drink * 35 * THE EYES OF NINJAS -Sta-li-Sun (Tune: "The Eyes of Texas") The eyes of Ninjas are upon you All the live long day! The eyes of Ninjas are upon you You cannot get away! You don't know that they're around you 'Til you get an arrow in the back! You won't know that they're around you 'Til -after- they attack! The eyes of Ninjas are upon you All the live long day! The eyes of Ninjas are upon you You cannot get away! Listening in to all your secrets Whether you're at work or you're at play The eyes of Ninjas are upon you Forever and a day! * * 36 * FIFTEEN MEN ON A DEAD MAN'S CHEST -Young Ewing Allison Fifteen men on a dead man's chest Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Drink and the Devil had done for the rest Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! The Mate was fixed by the bo'sun's pike, And the bo'sun brained by a marlin-spike, And the cookie's throat was marked belike! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Fifteen men of the whole ship's list, Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Dead and bedamned and their souls gone whist Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! The skipper lay with his nob in gore Where the scullion's axe his cheek had shore And the scullion he was stabbed times four! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! And there they lay, and the soggy skies Dripped ceaselessly in staring eyes By murk sunset and by foul sunrise! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Fifteen men of 'em stiff and stark, Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Ten of the crew bore the murder mark Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! 'Twas a cutlass swipe or an ounce of lead Or a gaping hole in a battered head, And the scuppers glut of a rotting red! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! And there they lay, aye, damn their eyes, Their lookouts clapped on Paradise; Their souls gone just the contrariwise! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Fifteen men of 'em good and true Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Every man Jack could have sailed with Old Pew! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! There was chest on chest of Spanish gold And a ton of plate in the middle hold And the cabin's riot of loot untold! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! And there they lay that had took the plum With sightless eyes and with lips struck dumb And we shared all by rule o'thumb! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! More was seen thru the stern light's screen Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Chartings ondoubt where a woman had been Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! (more) 37 Fifteen Men On A Dead Man's Chest (cont.) A flimsy shift on a bunker cot With a dirk slit sheer thru the bosom spot And the lace stiff-dry in a purplish rot! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Or was she wench, or shuddering maid, She dared the knife, and she took the blade; Faith, she was a plucky jade! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Fifteen men on a dead man's chest Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Drink and the Devil had done for the rest Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! We wrapped 'em all in a mainsail tight With twice ten turns of a hawser's bight And we heaved 'em over and out of sight! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! With a Yo-Heave-Ho! and a fare-thee-well, And a sudden plunge in a sudden swell; Ten fathoms along the Road To Hell! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! * This is probably -the- classic pirate song. It has many variants, but this set of words is the best I have ever seen. The tune is -creepy!- * * FOLLOW ME UP TO CARLOW -Patrick J. McCall ca. 1890 Melody dates from pre-1500's Lift Mac Cahir Og your face, brooding o'er the old disgrace That black FitzWilliam stormed your place, and drove you to the Fern Grey said victory was sure, soon the firebrand he'd secure Until he met at Glenmalure: Feach Mac Hugh O'Byrne! CHORUS: Curse and swear, Lord Kildare! Feach will do what Feagh will dare Now FitzWilliam, have a care! Fallen is your star, low! Up with halberd, out with sword! On we go, for by the Lord, Feach Mac Hugh has given his word: "Follow me up to Carlow!" See the swords of Glen Imayle, flashing o'er the English Pale! See all the children of the Gael beneath O'Byrne's banners! Rooster of the fighting stock, would you let a Saxon cock Crow out upon an Irish rock? Fly up and teach him manners! From Tassagart to Clonmore flows a stream of Saxon gore Och, great is Rory Og O'More at sending loons to Hades! White is sick and Lane is fled, now for black FitzWilliam's head! We'll send it over, dripping red, to Liza and her ladies! * 38 * FORSOOTHLY -Zenobia Napthali and Wulfgifu Wadylove of Wokyhole (Tune: "Sue Me" (from "Guys And Dolls") You never say "thou" and you never say "thee" You say "It's OK" and "please have a nice day" You contract all your phrases, swear "thunder and blazes" And mix up the cases you speak You're a man of the SCA, you should speak in a different way Listen to what I say: CHORUS: Forsoothly, forsoothly, speak well and couthly! Hark to me! You speak of your "car," you speak of your "phone" Your "system is down" your "account's overdrawn" I don't mind profanity, but this mundanity's Causing insanity here! Use some double comparisons! You're not from the garrisons! You're a man of good birth! Make consonants crisp, enunciate clear! Make tones that are round with mellifluous sound! Speak from the diaphragm, stress vowels whene'er you can Be thou a courtly man, be – If you're speaking with poesy, all the ladies will flock to thee! It's a truth you will see! * 39 * GLENWHORPLE (THE "G" SONG) -Traditional There's a braw fine clan o' lads as ilka man should ken They are de'ils at the fichtin, they hae clured a sicht o' men They hae suppit muckle whiskey when to ceildh theu gang ben The heilan men of braw Glenwhorple. CHORUS: HEUGHT! Glenwhorple, Heilan' men, Great strong whuskey-suckin' Heilan' men They were hard-workin', hairy legged, Heilan' men, Slainte mhor, Glenwhorple. They were founded by McAdam who of all the men was first He resided in Glen Eden and he pipit fit tae burst Wi' a fig-leaf for a sporran and a perfect Heilan' thirst Till he stole away the apple from Glenwhorple When the waters o' the deluge drookit all the whole world o'er The chieftain of the clan y'know his name was Sean McNoah So a muckle boat he biggit and he sneckit up the door And he sailed away from drooned Glenwhorple McNoah sent a piper out to see if there was land He came back wi' an empty whuskey bottle in each hand But they couldna comprehend him, he was fu', ye understand For he found a public house aboon the water There was a jock named Joshua, a Sapper he by trade He went awa' to Jericho aboon a muckle raid And the walls they went a-tumblin', and with loot the lads were paid For the sappin' and the minin' in Glenwhorple. When wise King Solomon was ruler o'er the glen He had a hundred pipers and a thousand fichtin' men And ten thousand wives and concubines, for as I'm sure ye ken He kept a pow'rful household in Glenwhorple O there was a birkie bangster was the ruler o'er the clan Well his name it was t'Wallace and he was a fichtin' man And he went about the border and the Southron turned and ran From the dingin' of the claymore in Glenwhorple Many o' the clansmen went and left their heilan' home They loaded up on ships, aboot the world t'roam They were lookin' for a special place to call their very own That's how Ealdormere became Glenwhorple O what a sight this morning wi' the clan all on parade Wi' the claymore and the pipers and the braw Glenwhorple plaid And the pipey almost sober, and the chieftain no' afraid O' seein' tartan spiders in Glenwhorple REPEAT CHORUS TWICE TO END * 40 Notes on "Glenwhorple:" "Slainte mhor", pronounced "slanja vah", means "good health". Source: Songs from Front And Rear; A Collection Of Canadian Serviceman's Songs of World War Two, with the exception of Lord Cordigan D'Arnot's verse about how Ealdormere became Glenwhorple, and the verse about Sappers, which is the fault of Lord Hector of the Black Heights. * * GOD REST YE MERRY, PEASANTRY -Murphy God rest ye merry, peasantry, let nothing make you cry! Remember Yang the Nauseating, born at Kurultai! To heckle all the noblemen, and drink their cellars dry! And sing songs to annoy them all night long, all night long! And sing songs to annoy them all night long! * 41 * GOD'S OWN DRUNK AND A WELSHMAN TO BOOT -Lloyd ap Taliesin y Felinfoel Copyright (C) 1991, James Woodyatt (This is my first and favorite. To do this right, one needs to be able to play the talking-twelve-bar-blues on the guitar behind this. The chords are: E E7 A7 A7sus E E7 A7 A7sus B7 Cweirdness A7 A7sus The Cweirdness chord is produced by sliding the B7 fingering up one fret on the neck. The turnaround is done by starting at F#7, sliding down the neck one fret at a time, then: E B7 Helps to put on a fake Welsh accent while telling this story. No, really, it does… – Lloyd) INTRO: For the last thousand years or so, the Irish and the Scots have been fighting like sailors over which one of them first discovered how to make whiskey (which is a word which comes from the old language of the Celtic Gauls… "uisce batha", the water of life). However, the truth that's been shrouded in secrecy all this time is that it was originally invented by the Welsh and given to both the Irish and the Scots to keep them where they belonged. Now, the story I'm about to tell was recently borrowed and made popular by the mundane artist Jimmy Buffet, who claims that he stole it from the late great Lord Richard Buckley… and then he even goes on to cast doubts as to whether Lord Buckley even wrote it himself. Here is the story in its original form. It describes how the Scots learned to make whiskey for themselves, and it's called "God's Own Drunk". (Begin playing a twelve-bar talking blues riff on a guitar) Now, I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm not very much of a drinking man. Because, I started drinking in a tavern in Cardiff on a Friday night and when I awoke on a Tuesday hanging in a tree somewhere near Dublin, and with my knees shaking and my teeth clattering I swore I would never do it again. But, I promised my brother Ian that I would watch his still for him whilst he went into town to drive out the Saxons… again. And, it was right up there on the side of Mount Snowdon where the map said it would be, and let me tell you, lords and ladies, that this was no ordinary still It sat up there on the mountain gleaming like a golden opal. God's little lanterns were twinkling on and off in the heavens. God's yellow moon was shining down on the cool clear evening. And, I'll say it again, I'm not very much of a drinking man… But, pretty soon…. this feeling come over me…. temptation got the best of me and I took a slash. And that Mount Snowdon whiskey going down my throat felt like honeydew vine water and I took another slash. Then, I took another…. and another, and another and pretty soon I had drank a whole jug of that whiskey and commenced to getting hot flashes. Goosepimples all running up and down my body. A feeling come over me. A feeling like I had never known before. It was like I was in love. For the nine hundred and ninety-ninth time…. that day. With anything that moved. Animate, inanimate, animal, mineral, vegetable, it didn't matter. (more) 42 God's Own Drunk (cont.) There was a great sign in the heavens that said, Lloyd…. Lloyd ap Taliesin y Felinfoel you bloody fool…. there is a great day coming…. Because I was drunk. Now, I wasn't just knee-crawling, privy-hugging, tree-climbing drunk. No…. I was God's own drunk and a fearless man. And that was when I think I first saw the Scot (do these things only seem to happen to you when you're drunk, or what?) He was a big, tall, Stuart-looking sodomite about thirty-six hands tall at the shoulders and he came a rambling up from the direction of Offa's Dyke expecting me to do one of two things: either flip or fly. And, when I didn't do either one, it hung him up. Then, he came in a little closer, expecting to smell some fear. Of course, he wasn't going to smell any fear because I was God's own drunk and a fearless man…. and a Welshman on top of that. It hung him up. Until he ate my hat just to show me that he was a cold-blooded killer. And I had just stolen that hat from a Saxon merchant not half a fortnight before and I was really put out. (Thing must have been worth at least twenty crowns….) But then he could see that my eyes were a lot redder than his were and it hung him up. So I said to him, "My lord…" That very respectful way that you say "my lord"…. Like when you're in the princess's bedchambers and you're feeling pretty confident because when you came in you had three bottles of wine, two of which are now empty, the last has only got this much left in it, and it doesn't look like the flagon of whiskey that you brought just in case will even be necessary. Two of his Highness's best guards are out on the balcony with nasty lumps on the sides of their heads which should keep them asleep until after the morn. Her Highness's clothing is strewn all about the bedchambers as if a gale had passed through, and the pillows are down around the foot of the bed…. (Don't ask – she's a saxon, isn't she?) And the prince, whom you're sure is going to be in London for another three full days…. comes through the bloody door. "My lord! Ah, your Highness, how was your journey? Good to see you back early…." And then he leans a bit on you and you say, "Please don't give me to the Captain of the Guard because when my wife finds out about this you won't have anything left of me to execute." "I only came in here because her Highness wanted to use me as a model for a doublet she sewing for you, and the very next thing I knew my teeth were caught on the front of her bodice, and I can see that I'm in trouble now…. I've got a flagon of good whiskey here." "My lord, I love every hair on your fifty-five acre Highlander back. "And I know that you've got a lot of friends over there on the other side of Culloden Moor…. Gregories and Ross and Stuarts and Kennedys and MacArthurs, MacLarens, MacLelans, MacLeans, MacLeods, MacIntosh… IBM…Mack Trucks, MacAnical, even two or three sheepish MacChluarains in there somewhere…….. "And I want you to go back there tonight and tell them that I'm feeling right. "And that I love each and every one of them as much as my own brothers and sisters…. especially your sisters. (more) 43 God's Own Drunk (cont.) "But, if they give me any trouble tonight…. as much as I'll hate to do it, I'll have to run each and every God damned one of them right into the sea." Well, that's what I told him. He took a step back and didn't know what to say. Neither did I. But, being charitable and drunk, I approached him a second time and said, "You know, in the eyes of the Lord, we are both the same kind of beast when you get right down to it…. You more of a beast than me. "So, I want you to be my brother…. Brother Mack." And I led him over to the still by his cudgel shaped hand and he started sniffing around it because he smelled something good. Not surprising, Ian's still was the best in Wales. Then, before I knew it, he had tipped one of those jugs of whiskey upright and drank it right down. And let me tell you now, there is nothing more frightening in this world or any other than the sight of a nine foot tall man in a dress drinking an entire jug of whiskey in one shot…. Then, he drank another…. and another, and another, until pretty soon he had drunk eight whole jugs of that whiskey and commenced to doing the highland dance. [At this point, my friend Josh (who played the guitar for me whilst I did this) would change key and start playing Scotland the Brave (he is a Scot) and humming the tune in a nasal voice for effect all the way through the following paragraph except for the last four words.] Now the highland dance is quite simple. You have to turn to the left, kick with the right, turn to the right, kick to the left, spin all the way round, slip, fall down, snort, twist, grunt, break your nose, it was so simple, like the Caidan measure, that it completely evaded me. And after about an hour of this nonsense we had worked ourselves up into a tumultuous uproar, after which I laid myself down for some tremulous dreams. (I think the Queen of the West was in one of them… great big Norman breasts.) And when I woke up. (I didn't want to wake up…. I was…. trapped in a Spanish convent.) When I woke up…. God's little lanterns were still twinkling on and off in the heavens. God's yellow moon was still shining down on the cool clear evening. I looked around, and…. no one to be found. It seemed that my brother the Scot, was missing. And, you know what else, lords and ladies…. So was the still. (Bring down the twelve-bar talking blues riff to signal the end of the story. `Cause for some reason, without it, no one seems to know when you've finished…) * 44 * GOLDEN, GOLDEN -Andy Stewart G Bm C G Slowly, slowly, walk the path, G Em Am7 D7 And you might never stumble or fall G Bm C G Slowly, slowly walk the path, G Am7 D7 G And you might never fall in love at all CHORUS: Golden, golden is her hair Like the mornin' sun over the fields of corn. Golden, golden, flows her love, So sweet, and clean, and warm! Lonely, lonely is the heart That never another can call it's own Lonely, lonely lies the part That has to live all alone. Wildly, wildly beats the heart With a rush of love like a mountain stream Wildly, wildly, play your part As free as a wild bird's dream! * 45 * THE GREAT NORSE ROVER -Brom Blackhand (Tune: "The Irish Rover") In the White Christ's year of nine hundred and six Our flags and our sails we unfurled And we cast off at ten with a full crew of men In an effort to sack the whole world We'd a hell of a ship, thru the waves she did slip And oh how the dark wind drove her! She had one score of masts, and two thousand oars (spoken, in Cockney accent: " 'ores?" "No, stupid, the kind you ROW with!" And we called her the Great Norse Rover! We had ten million spears, and enough food for years We had three million chests for our gold We had one thousand maids for the days between raids We had two million axes, all told! We had fifty fierce cats for our thousands of rats And they battled about all over! We had ten million kegs of the best Danish mead On the decks of the Great Norse Rover! There was Ingulf the Grim, there was no fear in him There was Ivar from Novgorod town There was Floki the Light who was too scared to fight And we hoped he'd fall over and drown! There was Erik the Fool who was drunk as a rule And raisin' hell all over! And old Hrothgar the Brown, who had sacked Dublin town Was the skipper of the Great Norse Rover! We'd been five years at sea when the scurvy got bad And the ship lost her way in the fog And that hell-raisin' crew was reduced down to two It was me and the Captain's old dog (BIG dog!) Then the ship struck a rock, a hellacious BIG rock, and she almost tumbled over, And when I looked around…the poor old dog was drowned… I'm the last of the Great Norse Rover! * 46 * GREENSLEEVES II -Anonymous Alas, my lady you've done me dirt You`ve sewn green sleeves to my purple shirt And then you've done me worse than that You've made me go out and wear it Oh, Oh, what a dismal fate To be seen at events in this terrible state Oh, how I wish I could come late Say, seven
    * after it's over * - 1st: days, 2nd: weeks, 3rd: months, 4th: years, 5th: centuries Alas, my lady I'm born to lose You've sewn pink bows to my purple shoes You've done my hair up in waves and curls My mother thinks I'm a girl Alas, my lady why did you think My cloak would look nice in that shade of pink You've decked me over in bobbins and lace My costume's become a disgrace Alas, my lady I've been bereaved Someone's just slandered my beautiful sleeve He's questioned my taste in every way My God, he said, I must be gay Alas, my lady you've done me wrong You've made my tunic much too long You've made it seven feet, ten inches, or more…. It drags across the floor! * 47 * GILDA AND THE DRAGON -Cynthia McQuillin (Tune: "Greensleeves") Sir Loren undertook a quest the maiden Gilda seeking He found her in a dragon's bed beneath 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 flashing "O 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! Shame!" Sir Loren cried to her, "What foolishness is this?" "Would you deny your lord and land all for a dragon's kiss?" Intently did he search her face then frowned in deep dismay As she shed a tear for honor's sake and then sent him far away "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!" * 48 * THE HAMSTER SONG -Chrystofer Kensor & Andrixios Seljukroctonis (Tune: "Ballad of the Green Berets") Fighting hamsters from the sky Some will live and some will die Hamsters have nothing to fear The fighting hamsters of Calontir Silver tape upon their backs A broadsword is all they lack Fifty hamsters fight a war They won't win without fifty more Trained by jumping off a roof Trained in combat tooth to tooth Hamsters fight both far and near The fighting hamsters of Calontir Riding high upon our helms Their war cry it overwhelms All opponents become weak At their fearsome squeaky squeak Back at home Paval waits His fighting hamster has met its fate He has died while drinking beer The fighting hamsters of calontir Once again its off to war This time we number a dozen more We will fight for those in need so this year it's with Caid Fighting hamsters jump from planes Fighting hamsters fall like rain Some will live but most will die Stupid creatures cannot fly * 49 * HARK THE HERALD -Tamal ibn Vakare (Tune: "Hark The Herald Angels Sing") Hark, the Herald Aelfgar screams: Don't use blues on top of greens! Or and argent, that's all right; Metals and tinctures do not fight! Use a bend, no highland plaids, Keep it simple, please, my lads! Azure, vert, purpure and gules Must follow all my herald's rules! Hark, the Herald Aelfgar screams: Don't use blues on top of greens! Hark, the Herald Aelfgar yells: Don't use cars and oil wells! Period, we beg you, please, Tygers we can draw with ease! Please don't ask for rubber bands These must pass thru Laurel's hands! We draw rampant-couchant too, But break-dancing? No can do! Hark, the Herald Aelfgar yells: Don't use cars and oil wells! * 50 * HENRY -Bertram of Bearington (Tune: "The First Noel") The first good wife that King Henry won Was his brother's queen, Cath'rine of Aragon, 'Til thoughts of incest caused him strife And he dumped her to marry a second wife… CHORUS: Six wives he had, six wives had he, With never a thought for al-i-mon-y! The second wife that King Henry did win Was a well-endowed lady named Anne Boleyn, He loved her true, she had his good word, 'Til he cut her off to marry a third… The third good wife of King Henry was fair, Gentle Jane Seymour who gave him an heir. She expired soon after, King Henry was sore, So to soothe his sad soreness he sought number four… Lady Anne of Cleves to Henry's court went, Though their bond was dis-sol-ved by common consent. Lady Anne was no dummy, she came out alive, Though the same can't be said for good wife number five… Lady Cath'rine Howard was a "generous" queen, She had "very close" friendships, if you know what I mean, But those kinds of friendships and Henry don't mix, So it's, "Good-bye, Sweet Cath'rine" - hello number six… Lady Cath'rine Parr was not par for the course. She avoided annulment, beheading, divorce… Not because she was smart or especially fine, It was just that King Henry dropped dead just in time… CHORUS: Six wives he had, six wives had he, With never a thought for al-i-mon-y! Six wives he had, six wives had he, A Renaissance gentleman - real royalty! * 51 * THE HERALD'S COMPLAINT -Baldwin of Erebor © Copyright 1979 by Derek Foster When I was just a pursuivant at Herald High I studied with a conscience as the days went by. I listened to the lectures and took note of every phrase, And I gave my life to learning the correct heraldic ways. But with evening come and classes close and midnight candles burnt, I would lie in bed and hearken back to all that I had learnt. And as I lay near slumber's door beneath the candle's gleam An eerie vision came to me appearing in a dream. It was a dove displayed upon a billet chequy Or and gules Between a pair of cockatrices clad in motley like a fool's, Their feather's were dimidiated with a tree eradicated, Limbed and fructed counter-compony. Beside the field of honor at a tournament I was resting from my labors in the heralds' tent When my reverie was broken by a newly belted knight Who had come for some assurance that his coat of arms was right. I sat him down and talked to him about simplicity, And shared with him the good advice that had been taught to me. "My Lord," he said, "my thanks to thee. You really have been kind. Now let me tell you of the coat of arms I have in mind." I want a dove displayed upon a billet chequy Or and gules Between a pair of cockatrices clad in motley like a fool's, Their feather's were dimidiated with a tree eradicated, Limbed and fructed counter-compony. Your blazon is impossible was my response. It's so complex the college would reject it at the nonce. It breaks the rules of heraldry. It can't be done you see, Besides the arms you've blazoned have been registered to me. I have a dove displayed upon a billet chequy Or and gules Between a pair of cockatrices clad in motley like a fool's, Their feather's were dimidiated with a tree eradicated, Limbed and fructed counter-compony. And these are the arms that belong to me. * 52 * THE HOLY GROUND -Traditional Fare thee well my lovely Dinah, a thousand times adieu For we're going away from the holy ground and the girls we all love true We will sail the salt seas over and we'll return for sure, To see again the girls we love, and the holy ground once more! CHORUS: (shout:) FINE GIRL YOU ARE! You're the girl I do adore! And still I live in hopes to see The holy ground once more (shout:) FINE GIRL YOU ARE! And now the storm is raging and we are far from shore The poor old ship is tossing about and the rigging is all torn And the secret of my mind my love, you're the girl I do adore And still I live in hopes to see the holy ground once more! And now the storm is over and we are safe and well We'll go into a public house and sit and drink our fill We will drink strong ale and porter, and we'll make the rafters roar And when our money is all spent we will go to sea once more! * HO RO MY NUT BROWN MAIDEN -Traditional CHORUS: Ho ro, my nut brown maiden! Ho ro, my nut brown maiden! Ho ro, ro. maiden! For she's the maid for me! Her eye so mildly beamin' And since from thee I parted Her look so frank and free A long and weary while In wakin' and in dreamin' I wander, heavy hearted, Is ever more with me! With longin' for thy smile Oh, Mary, mild eyed Mary The face with kindness glowin' By land or on the sea, The face that hides no guile Though time and tide may vary, The light grace of thy goin' My heart beats true to thee! The witchcraft of thy smile! With thy fair face before me Mine eyes that never vary How sweetly flew the hour From pointin' tae the glen When all thy beauty o'er me Where blooms my Highland Mary Came streamin' in its' power! Like wild rose 'neath the ben And when with blossoms laden Bright summer comes again, I'll fetch my nut brown maiden Down from the bonny glen! * 53 * I AM A DANE -Gwyneth Espicier (Tune: "I Am A Rock") Out at sea Don't talk of fear In a dragon-prowed warship I've heard the word before I am alone But never quite understood Thinking of the plunder What it meant I will get today I've never feared a foeman As I rape and burn I just hack them in two And pillage on my way If you're in my path I am a Dane I'll probably kill you I am a-viking! I am a Dane! I am a-viking! I built this ship I have my charms To carry me to England And Odin to protect me! From there to France and Germany I have my shield and my armor! There I will raze hamlets Riding in my scow Towns and cities, too! Standing in the prow I'll make your village I dream of standing One big barbeque! Ankle-deep in blood! I am a Dane I am a Dane I am a-viking! I am a-viking! And a Dane feels no pain. And a Viking -never- cries. * 54 * THE 'I AM NOT A NINJA POLKA' -Mary Porath and several others! When you travel thru the Laurel Kingdoms, A melody will greet your ears; It's a song that's been around the Kingdoms For what seems like twenty-five years! Oh….. Each and every canton dances to the strain Of the 'I Am Not A Ninja' Polka! All without exception join in the refrain! Of the 'I Am Not A Ninja' Polka! We all think that Mongols are something we should thrash Sing the 'I Am Not A Ninja' Polka! And we all thought the Snake Pit was just a place to crash! Sing the 'I Am Not A Ninja' Polka! The Kingdoms is so peaceful, we love each other so! Rebellion is the -last- thing on our minds! We don't attend 'post-revels' and really do believe That the whole Dark Horde should stick with their own kind! I never read a handout, or said 'The King's a fink!' Sing the 'I Am Not A Ninja' Polka! spoken: Is that not a Khanate Kit? That is not a Khanate Kit! sung: I am not a ninja polka! spoken: Did you not help write this song? I did not help write this song! sung: I am not a ninja polka! spoken: Did you not tell Yang our plan? I did not tell…..Yang who? Yang who??!! Yeah, Yang who? Should I know him? Is he a Duke? Well…..he was……. sung: A little man, very lean, very loud and brash Always smiled, laughed a lot, scrawny black moustache! He's the one, clapped his hands, went into a dance, When the news came to him: Eodred's in France! He's the one, Christmas time, told the Baronies: "To you the battles, tomorrow to me!" Tomorrow to me! Tomorrow belongs to…*… spoken: I never heard of him. Me either! sung: To our Caidan allies, let us drink a toast! Sing the 'I Am Not A Ninja' Polka! Sure there are some Mongols, two or three…at most! Sing the 'I Am Not A Ninja' Polka! (more) 55 The I Am Not A Ninja Polka (cont.) We all conduct ourselves in a European way, We never pay ourselves when we can borrow! We don't like Irish whiskey and really do believe That the whole Dark Horde will bring us all to sorrow To sorrow, to sorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow! Tomorrow! To…. spoken: Whoops! sung: We are all quite loyal as subjects to the King Sing the 'I Am Not A Ninja' Polka! And we do not approve of the songs the Hordemen sing! Sing the 'I Am Not A Ninja' Polka! spoken: Wait a minute! Wait a minute! No, no, you are not singing! Perhaps you do not -like- to sing? No? You have relatives in East Lansing, Michigan, perhaps? You will sing! sung: Sing the 'I am not a ninja polka!' WATSU! spoken: I dunno, whatsu with you? * 56 * I LIKE TO BE IN THE SCA -Anonymous (Tune: "I Like To Be In America" from "West Side Story") Mundane life – you ugly life So full of trouble and strife Always the price of gas growing Always the radiation glowing And the money owing And the muggers mauling And the Skylab falling I like the era Medieval Strange food, and strange clothes…and strange people! I like to be in the SCA Living in Caid is so nice OK by me in the SCA It is a kingdom without vice Everything's free in the SCA Such is the tragedy of fame For a small fee in the SCA! Heralds will mispronounce your name! You can be fed in the SCA Lots of new Kingdoms with more space You can be dead in the SCA Lots of swords smashing in your face All is co-ed in the SCA Our fighter are always the best Twelve to a bed in the SCA? Kicking the s* out of the West!
Life can be bright in the SCA      Here you can make many wise cracks
If you can fight in the SCA        Long as you do pay your pun-tax 
Everything's right in the SCA      Everyone here dresses formal
If you're a knight in the SCA!     Whether they're tall or they're normal!
Checking your gear in the SCA      I think I'll go back to mundanes
Front to the rear in the SCA       Dungeons and Dragons and Wargames!
No need to fear in the SCA         Everyone there will give a big cheer
Plenty of beer in the SCA!         Everyone there will then be here!
                  Dragons I'll slay in the SCA!
                  Hip Hip Hooray for the SCA!
                  Everyone's gay in the SCA?
                  I think I'll stay in the SCA....


                      THE INCEST SONG
                             -Buffy St. Marie
          Word is up to the lord's fair daughter 
          And word is spreading all over the land
          That she's been betrayed by her own dearest brother
          And he has chosen another's fair hand
          Many a man had sung of her beauty
          And many a bold deed for her had been done
          But within her sides she carries the child
          Of her father's eldest fairest son
          Tell me no lies, I'll hear no more stories
          But saddle my horse and I'll go and see
          My own true love and if these words prove true ones
          They will be the end of me
          Brother, o brother, what lies be these ones
          They say that thy love to another I'll lose
          I carry a babe of thy own proud lineage
          And I know that it's I that thou wouldst choose
          Hast thou told our mother or father
          All that thou hast said unto me
          And he's taken off his good beaten sword
          Hanging down by his left knee
          No, I've not told no one but thee love
          For it is a secret between me and thee
          I would come home and quit all my roaming
          And spend my days in waiting on thee
          Too late, too late for words, my sister
          Father has chosen for me a fair bride
          And he's stabbed her easy and lovingly laid her
          Down in her grave by the black water side
          And then he's gone home to his wedding
          And his father's asked him why weepest thou so
          Such a bride I've seen on this bright spring morning
          Never another man shall know



  1. Anonymous
           One day as I was bathing
           By a small secluded stream
           A maiden came from hiding
           And spoke these words to me:
           I see that you are a Mongol
           And used to wars and strife;
           For no one but a Mongol
           Would go bathing with a knife!
           I once had a Mongol lover
           His name was Bork, they say:
           If you'd put kumiss on it
           He'd eat a bale of hay!
           And everybody listened
           Though quietly he talked
           Because he carried so much steel
           That he glittered when he walked!
           He was handy in a bedroom
           And deadly in a fight
           But the thing that made him famous
           Was his humongous appetite!
           He could down a turkey
           Without a gulp or sigh
           And polish off a side of beef
           And still have room for pie!
           The things he'd stuff his mouth with
           Would make a maggot gag
           I swear he'd make a banquet of
           A pile of oily rags!
           He said he needed lots of fuel
           To stoke his brawny power
           It seems they had to feed him
           Every hour on the hour!
           One night he said, "I'm hungry!"
           I was sleepy but I tried
           I fed him fifteen minutes late,
           And he shriveled up and died!
           And so I lost my lover
           And so I pledged my life
           To wait here for some Mongol to
           Go bathing with his knife!


               ISN'T IT GRAND TO BE KING
                    -Lloyd ap Taliesin y Felinfoel
              With a few additions by Ioseph of Locksley
              Copyright (C) 1991, James Woodyatt
              (Tune: "Isn't It Grand Boys")
  Look at the thrones             
  Great silver crescents

CHORUS: Isn't it grand, boys

       To be bloody well King
       Let's not have an arts tea
       Let's wake the bloody whole town
       And always remember the longer you reign
       The sooner you give up the crown
  Look at the Chivalry            Look at the Barons
  Bloody great hypocrites         All bloody useless!
  (CHORUS)                        (CHORUS)
  Look at the L.O.C.              Look at the Dark Horde
  All bloody withering            Smelly old Mongols!
  (CHORUS)                        (CHORUS) 
  Look at the Pelicans            Look at the Revel
  Bloody sanctimonious            All bloody BORING!
  (CHORUS)                        (CHORUS)
  Look at the Laurels             Look at the Peerage
  Bloody great females!           Bowing and scraping!
  (CHORUS)                        (CHORUS)
  Look at the Cavaliers
  All bloody faggots!
  Look at the Duchesses
  Four hundred pounds worth!



      I bought a wife in Edinburgh for a bawbee 
      And then I got a farthing back to buy tobacco wi'! 
      CHORUS: And wi' you, and wi' you, and wi' you my Jenny lass 
              I'll dance the buckles off my shoes wi' you my Jenny lass! 
      Samson was a mighty man, and he fought wi' a cuddie's jaw 
      He fought a million battles wearin' crimson flannel drawers! 
      There was a man in Nineveh, and he was wondrous wise 
      He jumped into a hawthorn bush and scratched out both his eyes! 
      And when he saw his eyes were out, with all his might and main, 
      He jumped into the hawthorn bush, and scratched them in again! 
      Napoleon was an emperor, he ruled o'er land and sea, 
      He ruled o'er France and Germany, but he never ruled over me! 
      One Sunday I went walkin' and there I saw the Queen 
      Playin' at the football wi' the lads on Glascow Green! 
      The captain of the other side was scorin' in great style 
      The Queen she called a policeman, and had him thrown in jail! 
      Jenny is a bonny lass, she is a lass of mine 
      And I've never had a better lass, and I've had fifty-nine! 


                        JOHNNY MC ELDOO
      There was Johnny McEldoo, and McGee, and me
      And a coupla two or three, went on a spree one day.
      We had a bob or two, which we knew how to blew
      And the beer and whiskey flew and we all felt gay!
      We visited McMann's, MacIllman's, Humpty Dan's,
      We then went into Swann's our stomachs for to pack,
      We ordered out a feed which indeed we did need
      And we finished it with speed, but we still felt slack!
      Johnny McEldoo turned red, white and blue,
      And a plate of Irish stew he soon put out of sight
      He shouted out "Encore!" with a roar for some more
      Said he'd never felt before such a keen appetite
      He ordered eggs and ham, bread and jam, what a cram!
      But him we couldn't ram tho we tried our level best
      For everything we brought, cold or hot, mattered not
      It went down him like a shot, but he still stood the test!
      He swallowed tripe and lard by the yard, we got scared
      We thought it would go hard when the waiter brought the bill
      We told him to give o'er, but he swore he could lower
      Twice as much again and more before he had his fill
      He nearly supped a trough full of broth, says McGrath:
      "He'll devour the tablecloth if you don't hold him in!"
      When the waiter brought the charge McEldoo felt so large
      He began to scowl and barge and his blood went on fire!
      He began to curse and swear, tear his hair in despair,
      And to finish the affair called the shopman a liar!
      The shopman he drew out and no doubt he did clout
      McEldoo he kicked about like an old football!
      He tattered all his clothes, broke his nose, I suppose
      He'd have killed him with a few blows in no time at all!
      McEldoo began to howl and to growl by my sowl
      He threw an empty bowl at the shopkeeper's head
      It struck poor Micky Finn, peeled the skin off his chin
      And the ructions did begin, and we all fought and bled!
      The peelers did arrive, man alive! Four or five,
      At us they made a drive for us all to march away
      We paid for all the mate that we ate, stood a trate,
      And went home to reminate on the spree that day!


                          27 July, 1689
         Where hae ye been sae braw, lad?
         Where hae ye been sae brankie-o?
         Where hae ye been sae braw lad?
         Cam' ye by Killiecrankie-o?
         Chorus: An ye had been where I had been
                 Ye wad na been sae cantie-o
                 An ye had seen what I had seen
                 On the braes of Killiecrankie-o!

I fought at land, I fought at sea, Oh fie, MacKay, what gart ye lie At home I fought my Auntie-o; I' the bush ayont the brankie-o But I met the devil, and Dundee, Ye'd better kiss King Willie's loof, On the braes of Killiecrankie-o! Than come tae Killiecrankie-o!

The bold Pictur fell in a furr, It's nae shame, it's nae shame, And Clavers got a clankie-o, It's nae shame t'shank ye-o Or had I fed an Atholl gled, There's sour slaes on Atholl braes, On the braes of Killiecrankie-o! And the De'il at Killiecrankie-o!


            (Tune: "King Of The Road")

Chain mail for sale or rent…. Helms to let 60 pence. No mace, no sword, no shield….Oh lord which way is the field? I spent 2 hours in inspection lines, for my 8 and 12 foot poles, NO LIE! I'm the guy they call cannon fodder……… King of the Spode.

I've got old armour, handed down.. It spent 2 years on the ground. The old gambeson's all torn up…..Oh lord did I wear my cup? They said, lead the charge….that`s for me. In the fray, I killed a tree. I'm the, guy they call cannon fodder…..King of the Spode.

BRIDGE: I know ev-ery mud hole on ev-e-ry field. When I'm carried off on a shield. And every fighter that knocked me down.. and every chi-ur-geon for miles around….

They scream, hear ye! it's the grand melee. Held a bridge for the King today. Then a monster gave a yell …..let's use him for a pell!

Well I've got armour for sale or rent. Dented helm, 20 pence. No mace, no sword, no shield…they`re broken out on the field. I spent 2 hours in the first aid tent. Walking slow and rather bent. I'm the guy, they call cannon fodder….King of the Spode

I'm the guy, they call cannon fodder, King of the Spode.


                    KIRBY'S IRON HAMMER
  -orig. by Thorsen Danske with new words by Ioseph of Locksley
              (Tune: "Maxwell's Silver Hammer")
      Knights get violent when our swords are si-o-lent
      Raiding we must go!
      Summer on the march on a pony, o-oh oh oh oh!
      Autumn coming home again, weapons broke and worn again
      Need to be repaired
      Off we go to Kirby the Blacksmith's fo-o-o-rge!
      And as we reach the home of the smith, a noise comes to our ears!

CHORUS: Bang, bang, Kirby's iron hammer came down upon the sword!

      Clang, clang, Kirby's iron hammer made sure that it was forged!
      Back to the sea again, plundering and free again
      My axe fell overboard
      So I'll have to get me another ma-a-a-ade!
      Raiding down the coast again, hacking at the foes again
      My broadsword broke in two 
      We don't have SuperGlue so I'll have to go-o-o-o!
      That is what you get when you don't buy from Kirby's forge!
      West to Angle-land, sailing with a viking band
      Danegeld to recieve
      Taking thousands of pounds of silver ho-o-o-ome!
      Hiring an army now, take along an ox and plow
      Land there will be ours!
      Kirby's gonna bring along his for-o-o-orge!
      Saxons couldn't stop us at all, as the sound rings out again!


                       -Morgianne du Provence

For the great Gaels of Ireland are the men the gods made mad For all their wars are merry and all their songs are sad

Laeghaire the Silver Merlin left Ireland one day For to seek his merry fortune and to earn a soldier's pay For to kiss the loveliest maidens and steal the greatest treasures To win a crown and a King's renown and all a kingdom's pleasures

So he travelled swift through England but tarried long in France He learned to woo the ladies they taught him how to dance But his greatsword Stormfollower grew restless in its sheath He longed for gold and deeds so bold and battles on the heath

So he rode away to battle and he left the ladies weeping And followed the wars to Scotland while Provence was lost in sleeping Fought beside the Mongol horde friendship warm there finding Blood brotherhood with all men good he swore them to him binding

His greatsword and winged helm were known in many lands many were his deeds of war and bloody were his hands But at last of battle wearying he bid farewell to war He turned his steed toward pleasant meads and returned to France once more

For the great Gaels of Ireland are the men the gods made mad For all their wars are merry and all their songs are sad

                      LASSIE LIE NEAR ME
        Lang have we parted been, lassie my dearie
        Now we are met again, lassie lie near me
        Near me, near me, lassie my dearie
        Lang hast thou lain alane, lassie lie near me
        All that I have endured, lassie my dearie
        In your arms it is cured, lassie lie near me
        Near me, near me, lassie my dearie
        Lang hast thou lain alane, lassie lie near me
        If in the spring we meet, lassie my dearie
        All joy will be near me, lassie lie near me
        Near me, near me, lassie my dearie
        Lang hast thou lain alane, lassie lie near me


                   LASSIE WI' THE YELLOW COATIE
    (Chorus) Lassie wi' the yellow coatie
             Would y'wed a muirland Jockie?
             Lassie wi' th' yellow coatie
             Would y'busk and gang wi' me?

I have milk and meal in plenty Wi' my lassie and my doggie I have kale and cakes fu' dainty O'er th' lea and thru the boggie I've a but-an-ben fu' genty Nane on earth was e'er sae vogie But I lack a lass like thee! Or as blythe as we will be!

Although my mailen be but sma' Haste ye, lassie, tae my bosom And little gold I have t'shaw While the roses are in blossom! I hae a heart without a flaw Time is precious; dinna lose them An' I will gie it all t'thee! Flowers will fade, and sae shall ye

  (Final Chorus) Lassie wi' the yellow coatie
                 Ah! Take pity on your Jockie!
                 Lassie wi' the yellow coatie
                 I'm in haste, and sae should ye!


                                -Li Kung Lo
             (c) copyright 1985 Richard Munroe

Come sit beside me wayfarer, and charge my cup with ale And for this company withal, I'll sing to thee a tale Of how the greatest knight of all was stricken and laid low By a single peasant *armed only with a bow* (repeat * –>* )

On Beltane eve he hied him on, the sun was sinking low To Kent he rode upon such whims as ye may never know The finest mail upon his back, a seasoned fighting man He chanced upon a stream there crossed *by a narrow span*

Upon that bridge there stood a boy who blocked the great knight's way In wonderment this errant knight heard what this lad did say "Go back Sir knight, seek other ways, wherever they may lie Thou may not pass, and if thou try me,*thou wilt surely die"*

"Oh churlish knave," the knight replied, "thy life I would not have And I will spare thee, foolish boy, for thou art passing brave A squire I would make of thee, to take up sword and shield But an thou will not, say thy prayers, for *you must die or yield*"

"I serve no man, the rogue called back, I am and will stay free But know, good knight, that ne'er a soul has had the best o' me To serve the Lady of this wood is my thought and deed This stout long bow and but one shaft is *all that I shall need*"

"Then arm thyself," the horseman cried, "but sure to no avail For shaft or bolt was never made that will pierce this mail" He brandished sword and spurred his steed, his shield battle-dressed The knave let fly and found his mark, *full upon the breast*

Upon that bridge in dark of night, awakened with a start The knight reached down where goose fletched shaft had pierced him to

                                                           the heart

His mail was rent, and yet no wound appeared upon his breast But eldritch scar remained there and *bespoke the woodsman's jest*

The knave was gone but not his shaft, that he had left behind And yet his parting words remained still in the good knight's mind "I have bested thee, Sir knight, and killed thee right and clean Remember, when thou cast thine eyes *upon King Arthur's queen"*

No other knight in all the land could match him on the field No stronger arm throughout the realm a great broadsword did wield Against a stripling's clothyard shaft, his arms availed him not An arrow loosed from Eros' bow *had felled Sir Lancelot*

So hearken to my tale, me boys, and learn this lesson well There is no man alive that Cupid's arrow cannot fell So try not arms with Faerie Folk, clothed in mortal guise And beware the shafts of Eros' bow, *within a woman's eyes*


                      LEWIS BRIDAL SONG
                      (Marie's Wedding)
      Stap we gaily, on we go, heel for heel and toe for toe,
      Arm in arm and roe on roe, all for Marie's Wedding!
      Over hillways up and down, myrtle green and bracken brown
      Past the shielin', thru the town, all for sake of Marie 
      Red her cheeks as rowans are, brighter far than any star,
      Fairest o' them a', by far, is m'darlin' Marie!
      Plenty herring, plenty meal, plenty peat to fill her creel,
      Plenty bonnie bairns as weel, that's the toast for Marie!
                   LIVELY LASS
                        -Sumer Redmane
                    (Tune: "Gypsy Rover"
     A lively lass stepped out onto the field
     Wearing her helm and armor
     She fought long and she fought hard
     And it did not seem to harm her
     She had a strong and a sturdy arm
     She swung her sword most sincerely
     Before too long she'd won a fight
     She'd won the battle most clearly
     One day in battle she met a man
     A man who'd won the crown
     And when the battle was done that day
     Twas he who was lying down
     But Ironsteed spoke and declared the truth
     That women were not able
     They'r much too weak and frail to fight 
     Except in song and fable
     The people then were most enraged 
     To think that he would label
     A fighter who could beat Longshanks
     Nothing but a fable
     Up spoke the people both great and small
     Of lowly birth and gentle
     If Ironsteed thinks he can stop her now
     He's much too tempermental
     Then Longshanks spoke and then he said
     Strange that a fable seems so real
     Perhaps Ironsteed would learn a lot 
     If he the blows could feel
     So those who think women should not fight 
     But should be knitting instead
     Are seeking differences on the field
     That should be found in bed!


                 LOCAL S.C.A.
      (Tune: "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 S C A, SCA,
For we are your local S C A.
These men aren't wearing dresses, sir, Those are not pantyhose.
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, that way.
For we are your local S C A.
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 S C A.
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 armour, too, Like any noble knight,
And use our wooden sticks to whale away, whale away,
For we are your local S C A.
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 S C A.
We have a King and Prince who do Our loyalty command
This is Three Rivers Barony, 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 S C A.
Arrest these merry gentles, nay, Discretion you should use.
For we are lords and ladies, sir, 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 S C A.


                         LOCH LOMOND
       By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes
       Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond
       Where me and my true love won't ever meet again
       On the bonnie bonnie banks of Loch Lomond

CHORUS: Oh, you take the high road, and I'll take the low road

      And I'll be in Scotland before you
      And me and my true love won't ever meet again
      On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond
       'Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen
       On the steep, steep side of Ben Lomond
       Where in purple hue, the hieland hills we view
       And the moon comin' out in the gloamin'.
       The wee birdies sing, and the wild flowers spring
       While in sunshine the waters are sleepin'
       But the broken heart it kens nae second spring again
       Tho' the woeful may cease from their greetin'


                      LOCK THE DOOR, LARRISTON!
                             -James Hogg (1797)
      Lock the door, Larriston, Lion of Linnesdale!
      Lock the door, Larriston, Lowther comes on!
      The Armstrongs are flyin', the widows are cryin'
      Castleton is burning, and Oliver is gone!
      Lock the door, Larriston, high in the weather gleam,
      See how the Saxon plumes bob in the sky!
      Yeoman and carbinier, billman and halbardier!
      Fierce is the foray, and far is the cry!
      Newcastle brandishes high his bold scimitar,
      Ridley is riding his fleet-footed grey!
      Hedley and Howard there, Wandale and Windermere,
      Lock the door, Larriston, hold them at bay!
      Why dost thou smile, oh bold Elliot of Larriston?
      Why does the joy-candle gleam in thine eye?
      Thou bold border-ranger, beware of thy danger!
      Thy foes are relentless, determined and nigh!
      Elliot raised up his steel bonnet, and lookit out
      His hand grasped the sword with a nervous embrace.
      Oh welcome brave foemen, on earth there are no men
      More gallant to meet in the fray or the chase!
      Little know you of the hearts I have hidden here
      Little know you of our moss-troopers' might!
      Linhope and Sorbie true, Tundhope and Milburn too!
      Gentle in manner, but lions in fight!
      I have Mangerton, Oglvie, Raeburn and Netherbie,
      Old Sim of Whitram, and all his array!
      Come all Northumberland, Teasdale and Cumberland!
      Here at the Breeker tower shall end the affray!
      Scowled the broad sun over the links of green Liddesdale
      Red as the beacon-light tipped he the wold
      Many a bold martial eye mirror'd that morning sky!
      Never more looked on his orbit of gold!
      Shrill was the bugle's note, dreadful the warrior's shout,
      Lances and halberds in splinters were torn
      Helmet and halberd then braved the claymore in vain
      Buckler and armet in shivers were torn!
      See how they wane, the proud files of the Windermere
      Howard, ah, woe to the hopes of the day!
      Hear the wild welkin rend, while the Scots shouts ascend:
      Elliot of Larriston! Elliot for aye!


            LONG DISTANCE SQUIRE                                   
               -Galen of Bristol and
                Genvieve McCullum du Caen
          (Tune: "Cat's in the Cradle")
    Squired a lad just the other day
    Gave him his belt in the usual way
    But there were wars to fight
    and men to slay
    He made his sword while I was away
    And he was fighting 'fore I knew it
    and as he grew
    He'd say, "I'm going to be like you, Sir,
    You know I'm going to be like you."
    CHORUS    And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
              Little squire boy and the man in the moon.
              When you coming here, Sir? I don't know when
              But we'll get together then, squire,
              You know we'll have a good fight then.
    He became a lord just the other day.
    He said, "Thanks for the shield, Sir, come on let's play.
    Can you teach me to kill?"  I said, "Not today,
    I got a lot to do." He said, "That's OK."
    And he walked away but his smile never dimmed
    It said, "I'm going to be like him, yeah.
    You know I'm going to be like him."
    He came from Pennsic just the other day
    So much like a Knight I just had to say,
    "Squire, I'm proud of you, can you fight for a while?"
    He shook his head, and he said with a smile,
    "What I'd really like, Sir, is to borrow your tent, please,
    See you later, will you leave us in peace?"
    He's long been a knight, he's traveled far away,
    I saw him here just the other day.
    "I'd like to learn that snap blow, if you don't mind?"
    He said, "I'd teach you, Sir, if I could find the time.
    But, see, the new crown's a hassle and the squires are new,
    But it's been sure nice sparring with you."
    And as the King walked away it occurred to me,
    He'd grown up just like me.  My squire was just like me.


LORD OF THE DANCE (Christian Version)

                  Words: (c) copyright Kay Shapero and Lee Gold 1990
                  Tune: "Lord of the Dance"
I danced in the morning when all time was begun.
I scattered out the galaxies and lit the moon and sun.
I rolled away the waters, and the land had its birth.
And as Lord of the Dance I appeared on the Earth.

CHORUS: Dance, dance, where ever you may be!

      I am the Lord of the Dance, said he!
      I live in you as you live in Me,
      And I lead you all in the dance, said He!
I danced o'er the ocean, and I called out, "Bring Forth"
And life sprang up from the south up to the north,
It joined in the dance, as it swam, flew and ran,
And in Eden there took shape a woman and man.
But the woman and man chose to break from the dance,
To stumble on the path of error and mischance.
In sorrow I exiled them outside my garden wall
But never outside my love and my call.
To Egypt I came in time, with Joseph and his kin
And when time came around, I led them forth again.
As a pillar of cloud, as a pillar of fire
I danced on before them, and I did never tire.
(slower and slower with the first verse; no chorus between verses; 
speed up with the second verse.)
To win mankind free, a new dance I stepped,
To teach and then to die a shameful death.
The Earth quaked and darkened; all life seemed in a trance.
Could it be that this was the end of the dance?
But the dance was not done, for I did not stay dead
For sinless, I could harrow Hell instead.
All penalty paid for the souls held in thrall,
Come be free, dance with me, for my dance is for ALL!


                 LOVER'S HEART
                       -Andy Stewart
                        Phil Cunningham
                        recorded by Silly Wizard
                                    "A Glint of Silver"
                        copyright 1986 Bracken Music Services
       Am      G      Am7 C        Dm        Dm7       F   F-G

She was in the flowery garden when first she caught my eye

   Am          G      Am7  C       Dm7               G

And I just a marching soldier; she smiled as I passed by

     Dm         Em         Am       C          C        Am      Dm  E

The flowers she held were fresh and fair, her lips were full and red

   Am     G           C    Am           Dm7     G7      C

And as I passed that shady bower, these words to me she said

        C     G       C        Am
       Last night we spoke of love
        C         Am        Dm    E
       Now we're forced to part
             Am           G         C        Am
       You leave to the sound of a marching drum
                Dm7       G7      C
       And the beat of a lover's heart

She was by the shore in the evening when next I saw my dear Running barefoot by the water side, she called as I drew near The sunlight glanced at the water's edge making fire of her auburn hair My young heart danced at her parting words that hung in the evening air


She was on the Strand next morning when orders came to sail And as we slipped our ropes away I watched her from the rail She threw me a rose, which fell between us, and floated on the Bay And as our ship pulled from the shore, I heard her call and say


Now the soldier's life won't suit me, sweet music is my trade For I'd rather melt the hardest heart than pierce it with a blade Let the time be short till I return to my home in the mountains high And the loving girl who stole my heart with these words as I passed by



                   THE LYKEWAKE DIRGE
            This ae nicht, this ae nicht, 
            Every nicht and a'
            Fire and fleet and candleleet 
            And Christ receive thy soul
            Alt. last line:
            (And **** take thine all!)
            When thou from here away have passed
            To Whinny Muir thou com'st at last
            If ever thou gavest hosen or shoon
            Sit thee down and put them on
            If hosen and shoon thou ne'er gavest nane
            The winds will pick thee to the bare bane
            From Whinny Muir when thou art passed
            To Purgatory fire thou com'st at last
            If ever thou gavest meat or drink
            The fire will never make thee shrink
            If meat or drink thou ne'er gavest nane
            The fire will burn thee to the bare bane
            From Purgatory fire when thou art passed
            To Brigg 'O'Dread thou com'st at last
            If ever thou gavest silver or gold
            By God's right hand be taken in fold
            If gold or silver thou ne'er gavest nane
            Thou shalt fall till the stars be gane


                       MAGNA CARTA (round)
                       (Tune: "Frere Jacques")
      Magna Carta, Magna Carta
      Now's the time! Now's the time!
      John Ball's bell is ringing!
      Jacquerie is singing!
      Now's the time! Now's the time!
                      MANYURA, MANYAH! 
                          -Matt McGinn 
                      copyright 1964 Matt McGinn 
      CHORUS: Wi' manyura manyah, wi' manyura manyah! 
              Wi' manyura, manyura, manyura manyah! 
      Noo I've heard men complain of the jobs they are dain, 
      When they're hawking the coal, or diggin' the drain. 
      But whatever they are, there is none that compar' 
      Wi' manyura, manyura, manyura manyah! 
      Th' streets of the toon were all kivvered aroon 
      Wi' stuff that was colourful, gowden and broon, 
      It was put there, of course, by a big Clydesdale horse! 
      And they called it manyura, manyura manyah! 
      I followed its' track wi' a shovel and sack, 
      And as often as no wi' a pain in me back. 
      It was all for the rent, and the beautiful scent 
      Of manyura, manyura, manyura manyah! 
      But I'm feelin' fu' sore for my job's taken o'er 
      And everything noo is mechanical power; 
      And there's naething for me but the sweet memory 
      Of manyura, manyura, manyura manyah! 



  Or: I Am the Very Model of a Medieval Seneschal
                                -William Blackfox
 (Tune: "I am the Very Model of a Modern Major-General")

I am the very model of a medieval Seneschal. I've information marshallate, heraldic and monarchical; I know the Kings of Atenveldt in order alphabetical; I've edited a monograph on armour theoretical.

I've memorised the order of the Ansteorran precedence And all of the addresses of the monarchs' former residence. Upon the Kingdom chronicles I am a living indices… And for Kingdom publications I check everything the printer sees!

My cumulative knowledge of the Ansteorran history Is easily recitable and throughly a whiz for me. In short, in matters marshallate, heraldic and monarchical I am the very model of a medieval Seneschal.

My armorial device has over twenty-seven quarterings, From fimbriated dragons to eleven types of mortaring. I demonstrate my expertise on heraldry and loyalty By blazoning the arms of all the members of the royalty.

My great familiarity with fighting in Society Is predicated by my own desire for variety. I fought in demonstrations, in the Crown and in the Coronet… And with all of my experience I haven't found it boring yet!

I participate in melees and heraldic congregations With a fervor one would only see in sexual relations. But I say in matters marshallate, heraldic and monarchical I am the very model of a medieval Seneschal.

Though I understand the duties of the other major offices As seneschal, I should be relegated to the novices. Although my past experience is varied and remuneral, I doubt that I could autocrat a dead canary's funeral!

The shire that I serve has started falling into disrepair. I cannot keep the populance from disappearing everywhere. The herald lost his voice from telling me to take my last repose… And the marshall took my senechallate key and jammed it up my nose!

My administrative skills are rivalled only by Caligula. The royal board of inquiry declared the books irregular. But still in matters marshallate, heraldic and monarchical I am the very model of a medieval Seneschal.


                     MEN OF REISLING
                             -Amanda of Cawdor
                     (Tune: "men Of Harlech")
      Come you drunkards stop your dreaming
      Can't you see the bastards scheming
      Overthrow of all of Reisling
      At your very door
      Men of Reisling all unsteady
      On your feet and at the ready
      Even tho it has been said ye
      Cannot find the floor
           Raise your glass and quaff it
           Your night shirt you must doff it
           Leave your thoughts beside her cot
           But get your body off it
      Men of Reisling come to battle
      They are stealing all our cattle
      And our e'en more precious chattle
      Our wenches and our beer
      Stagger yon our fleeing foeman
      Drunken knights and drunken yeomen
      And some very drunken bowmen
      Tangled up in twine
      We'll pursue them and we'll harry
      Them whene'er they stop to tarry
      Another day they'll be more wary
      Who they rob of wine
           Reisling hear your duty
           They're fleeing with their booty
           Your wives you'll miss but worse than this
           Of wine the swine would loot ye
      Let them have the fields and towers
      We'll defend the casks and bowers
      Castles fall but nothing sours
      Loving and good wine


                   THE MERCENARY SONG
                   (Tune: "Betsy From Pike")

My Lord and my Lady are one and the same

    Many a victory I've won in their name
    For drachmas and shillings and guilders and gold
    My courage is manly my valor is bold 
    CHORUS: I'm a merc, merc I am a merc!
            Make me an offer and I'll be a merc! 
            I'll fight off the Norsemen, 
            I'll fight off the Turks!
            I'm sorry you're dead, but that's my line of work! 
    From Arabia's deserts to Norway's fjords 
    I'll pillage the countryside, killing the lords 
    My needs they are simple, at last when I'm paid:
    A bottle of mead and a bosomy maid 
    If you meet my price then I'm off to the fray 
    Here's something to ponder while I'm on my way:
    Don't fight with a Viking who's richer than you 
    If he tops your offer, then guess what I'll do 
    Off with the Normans I sailed to the war,
    And fought many battles on England's grey shores
    The Saxons were bold, but the Normans had gold 
    And so, with the money, my sword it was sold
    The lords give out titles, the ladies just flirt 
    But that don't mean nothing, cause I am a Merc 
    Titles and ladies are often a curse
    I'm more reassured by the weight of my purse 
    Lock up your daughters and lock up your wives 
    Pray to your gods, and fear for your lives!
    With maces and axes and swords in our hands 
    For the right price we will slay any man 
    Merc's have fought battles in many great wars 
    And when I am through with the blood and the gore 
    You'll find me out spending the gold I've been paid 
    Rip roaring drunk with a buxom young maid 
    Lock up your treasures with merc's on the loose 
    A merc can bear hardship and blatant abuse 
    A merc will go anywhere fearless and bold... 
    But the sight of a moose turns his testicles cold! 


                MERCENARY'S SONG  
                    -Flieg, Nicorlynn & Steerbjorg
                (Tune: "Greenback Dollar")
CHORUS: And I don't give a damn 'bout a chain or a white belt
        Money's the stuff for me
        For a willing wench and a keg of beer
        Are things you can't get for free
        Well when I was a young man
        My mother said my son
        Your father was a mercenary travelling man
        By your eyes I know he was the one
        I learned how to strike with an axe or a mace
        To defend myself with a shield
        I learned how to guard against all kinds of attacks
        Most of all I learned when to yield
        Some people fight for glory
        Some people fight for the good
        But I fight for the jingling silver coin
        War is my livelihood
        It might be a king's ransom
        Or barely enough to eat
        But I take my tithe on the countryside
        In victory or defeat
        The first time I ever hired out for pay
        I knew my luck wasn't too good
        For Creachin hired me to fight Ostgardr
        I watched the slaughter from the wood
        I fought for the East in Pennsic IV
        For the East again in Pennsic V
        The Middle bid high in Pennsic VI
        I'm lucky to be alive
        I fought on the side of the Angels
        In the Caid Rebellion out west
        Their tactics were't good their battleplans failed
        But their wine and women were the best
        O the lady sighs for a young knight
        the matron coos at a priest
        But a tavern wench and a keg of ale
        Are a good half-shilling apiece (at least!)
        I've fought against the best of men
        The worst of men as well
        But the worst time I had on the Battlefield
        I was fallen on by Lord El!


      We are marching thru Mongolia, and Atenveldt and Syria,
      Drachenwald and Calontir and even in Siberia!
      And with every single step we take we get a little nearer ya!
      The Horde is on its way!
        Glory, glory, what's it to ya?
        Pretty soon, we're gonna screw ya!
        So ya better get it straight:
        It's to US you abdicate!
        The Horde goes marching on!
                   THE NINJA'S LAMENT
                      -Lee Gould, Owen Hannifen, Barry Gould, et. al.
                   (Tune: "Streets of Laredo")
      As I walked out in the streets of Old Edo
      As I walked out in Old Edo one day
      I spied a young fellow, all dressed in black cotton
      All dressed in black cotton as dark as the grave!
        I see by your outfit that you are a ninja
        You see by my outfit that I am one too!
        We see by our outfits that we are both ninjas
        Get yourself an outfit, then you'll be one too!
      Oh, sell me some shiriken, and some ashiko,
      Oh, sell me some tabi, and a ninja-to!
      Oh, sell me a kami, and also kusari,
      And then don't stand between me and my foe!
      I worked for the Iga --- or was it the Koga?
      Or perhaps for the Dark Horde -- or maybe for you?
      But I've got an outfit - and I know KARATE!
      And three or four other Japanese words, too!
        I see by your outfit that you are a ninja,
        (Etc. as above)
        For thirty-nine ninety-five you can be a ninja, too!


            NO SHIELD
               -Shayera Maren MacLaen of the Fair Mount
            (Tune: "You Picked A Fine Time to Leave Me Lucille")

CHORUS: You picked a fine time to leave me no shield!

      With four angry Mongols and a Dwarf on the field
      I've had some bad times, and crashed thru some tight lines
      But this time the hurtin' won't heal!
      You picked a fine time to leave me no shield!

I went to the fightin', it was real excitin' I saw that my name was up next The fighters stared at me, they were upset to see They had to contend with the best! I put on my chain mail, I knew I would not fail My opponents, now, they all fell down! The Marshall, he got mad, and said the fight was bad Now Mongols are staring me down!

I ran from the fight there, but I didn't know where A runaway fighter could go The ladies were swooning, and bards were all tuning As I scampered 'round to and fro! I threw off my helm then, but I didn't know when I'd finally be able to rest The Mongols were waiting, now there's no escaping I'm finally put to the test!

Now the Marshall will get me but he won't upset me Because I'll already be dead! Them Mongols are coming, their drums are a-drumming The sound rattles round in my head I should have fought fairly – I did (but just barely!) Now this isn't how it should be Them creeps are advancing and I'm hardly chancing That they'd think to let me go free!

If I live thru this mess I will behave my best I'll never be nasty again! I'll even be loyal to the King, so Royal And -never- insult the King's Men! They're coming right at me, I'll have to wait and see Just what these mean Mongols will do…. I need a good friend now, I really don't care how, but….HELP!….I'm beseeching of you!


       (Tune: "Jesus Loves the Little Children")
       Odin loves the little Vikings
       All the Vikings of the world
       Whether drunk on ale or mead
       In a boat or on a steed
       Odin loves the little Vikings of the world.
       Odin loves the little Vikings
       All the Vikings of the world
       If you're drunk and thrown in jail
       Odin - and your axe! - are bail
       Odin loves the little Vikings of the world.
       Odin loves the little Vikings
       All the Vikings of the world
       Offer up an ox or two
       And he'll be in debt to you.
       Odin loves the little Vikings of the world.
                     O'DONNELL ABU
                     (The Clan Connell War Song)
                     M.J.McAnn cir. 1843
      Proudly the note of the trumpet is sounding
      Loudly the war-cries arise on the gale
      Fleetly the steed by Lough Swilly is bounding
      To join the thick squadrons on Saimier's green vale!
              On every mountaineer! Strangers to flight or fear!
              Rush to the standard of dauntless Red Hugh!
              Bonnaught and gallowglass, throng from each mountain pass!
              Onward for Erin! O'Donnell abu!
      Princely O'Neill to our aid is advancing
      With many a chieftain and warrior clan!
      A thousand proud steeds in his vanguard are prancing
      'Neath the Borderers brave from the banks of the Bann!
              Many a heart shall quail under it's coat-of-mail,
              Deeply the merciless foeman shall rue
              When on his ear shall ring, borne on the breeze's wing
              Tyr Connell's dread war cry: O'Donnell abu!
      Wildly o'er Desmond the war-wolf is howling
      Fearless the eagle sweeps over the plain;
      The fox in the streets of the city is prowling
      And all who would conquer them are banished, or slain!
              On with O'Donnell then! Fight the good fight again!
              Sons of Tyr Connell are valiant and true!
              Make the proud Saxon feel Erin's avenging steel!
              Strike! For your Country! O'Donnell abu!


                          OUR PETS
                            -Jane Louise Lake and Elise
          (To the tune of "Our House", Crosby Stills & Nash)

                  I'll light the cat
                  You drown the hamsters in the vase
                  that you bought
                  Staring at the dog 
                  and thinking of meatloaf while I
                  listen to you
                  start the blender
                  in the kitchen 
                  (Don't forget the cow!)
                  Our pets
                  are very very very fine pets
                  when lovingly sauteed
                  or in a light souffle
                  please pass the angelfish fillet to me
                  And now
                  yum yum, yum yum yum yum, yum, (etc. to fill)
                  Our pets
                  are very very very fine pets (very fine pets)
                  when barbecued or baked
                  I love chameleon steak
                  A turtle boil or bunny cake
                  for you
                  And now
                  I'll light the cat
                  while you place the gerbils
                  and the cute little duckies in
                  the stew-ew-ew-ew-ew....



      The piper cam' t'our toon, t'our toon, t'our toon, 
      The piper cam' t'our toon, and he played merrily! 
      He played a spring, the laird t'please 
      A spring brand new from o'er the seas 
      And then he gave his bags a squeeze, 
      And played another key! 
      CHORUS: And wasn'a he a roguie, a roguie, a roguie? 
              Wasn'a he a roguie, the piper o'Dundee? 
      He played the "Welcome o'er the Main" 
      And "Y'se be fou', but I be fain" 
      And "Auld Stuart's back again!" 
      With muckle mirth and glee! 
      He played "The Kirk," he played "The Queir" 
      "The Mullin Dhu" and "Chevalier" 
      And "Lang awa' but welcome here!" 
      Sae sweet and merrily! 
      It's some got swords, and some got nane, 
      And some were dancin' mad the lane, 
      And many a vow of war was ta'en 
      That night in Amulrie! 
      There was Tullabardine an' Burleigh, 
      Stuart, Keith and Ogilvie 
      And brave Carnegie, wha' but he? 
      The Piper O'Dundee! 
                 PLUNDER BEFORE YOU BURN!
 -orig. by Thorsen Danske with new words by Ioseph of Locksley
         (Tune: "Where Have All The Flowers Gone?")
  Where has all the gold loot gone, long time passing
  Where has all the gold loot gone, long time ago
  Where has all the gold loot gone, gone to gold rings, everyone
  When will they ever learn? Plunder before you burn!
  Where have all the gold rings gone (etc as above)
  Where have all the gold rings gone, gifts to maidens, everyone
  When will they ever learn? Plunder before you burn!
  Where have all the maidens gone (etc as above)
  Where have all the maidens gone, gone with young men everyone
  When will they ever learn? Plunder before you burn!
  Where have all the young men gone (etc as above)
  Where have all the young men gone, gone for Mongols, everyone
  When will they ever learn? Plunder before you burn!
  Where have all the Mongols gone (etc as above)
  Where have all the Mongols gone, we don't tell just anyone!
  When will you ever learn? Plunder before you burn!


                    THE QUEEN OF ARGYLL 
                              -Andy Stewart 
   Gentlemen, it is my duty to inform you of one beauty 
   Though I'd ask of you a favor, no to seek her for a while 
   I own she is a creature of character and feature 
   No words can paint the picture of the Queen of all Argyll! 

CHORUS: And if you could have seen her there!

      Boys, if you had just been there! 
      The swan was in her movement and the morning in her smile 
      All the roses in the garden they bow and ask her pardon 
      For not one could match the beauty of the Queen of all Argyll! 
   On the evening that I mentioned, I passed with light intention 
   thru a part of our dear country known for beauty and for style 
   Bein' a place of noble thinkers, of scholars and great drinkers 
   But above them all for splendor shone the Queen of all Argyll! 
   So, m'lads I needs must leave you, my intention's no to grieve you 
   Nor indeed would I decieve you, no, I'll see you in a while 
   I must find some way to gain her, to court her and to tame her 
   I fear my heart's in danger from the Queen of all Argyll! 


                           -Li Kung Lo
             (c) copyright 1985 Richard Munroe

A ragged vagabond he was, a lady fine was she They walked along the leeward shore on a footpath through the trees They plied their troth to the wind and the stars but a mile from the town Though promised to a lord she was, yet still he laid her down Upon the bracken and the boughs, they made their forest bed And she let down her flaxen hair, and these were the words she said:

Lay me down, you wanderer, love me well tonight I'll be leaving with the cock's crow, before the morning light Lay me down in this forest, come and lay here by my side For I'll be gone at daybreak, to be a noble's bride

Though untied to the land you are, I'll love you well, quoth she But my lord must never know, for a jealous lord is he They made their tryst, but not alone, for their meeting had been seen Too full of love were they to hear the laugh of the faerie queen She saw these lovers lying so, and an angry queen was she For woodland night is faerie's realm, and love is never free

So lay me down, you wanderer, love me well tonight I'll be leaving with the cock's crow, before the morning light Lay me down in this forest, come and give your love to me But know that you may have to pay the queen of faerie's fee

To trespass on my land, she spoke, a pledge you will give me You'll never give your own true love to any man save he And you, a footpad though you are, a man without a home You'll never leave this lass again, no more will your feet roam Their passion burned like faerie fire, the queen she laughed with glee But they cared not, for the light of love was all that they could see

So lay me down, oh wanderer, love me well tonight I'll be leaving with the cock's crow, before the morning light Lay me down in this forest come and give your love to me But know that we may have to pay the queen of faerie's fee

The queen came forth, her eyes afire, enraptured both were they She kissed them both upon the brow, just e're the break of day They did not stir when daylight came, touched by the morning dew For she was a weeping willow, and he a stately yew And these two trees can still be seen,with their limbs entwined just so And this song can still be heard at the point of Tupelo

Lay me down, you wanderer, love me well tonight I'll be leaving with the cock's crow, before the morning light Lay me down in this forest, come and lay here by my side For I'll be gone at daybreak, to be a noble's bride

So lay me down, you wanderer, love me for tonight I'll be leaving with the cock's crow, before the morning light Lay me down in this forest, come and give your love to me But know that we will have to pay the queen of Faerie's fee


                        RAMBLIN' ROVER
                              -Andy Stewart
       copyright (date unk.) Strathmore Music & Film Services

CHORUS: O there's sober men in plenty, and drunkards barely twenty

      There are men of over ninety that have never yet kissed a girl
      But gie me a ramblin' rover, and from Orkney down to Dover
      We will roam the country over and together will face the world!

O there's many that feign enjoyment for merciless employment Their ambition was this deployment since the minute they left the school They save and scrape and ponder while the rest go out and squander See the world, and rove and wander, and they're happier as a rule

I've roamed thru all the nations, ta'en delight in all creation And I've tried a wee sensation where the company did prove kind And when parting was no pleasure, I've drunk another measure To the good friends that we treasure for they always are in our minds

For the lassies young and sprightly, them I courted nightly Where stayin' wasn't likely, for I ramble up and down; 'Cause life it would be hearty, I'd dance at every party, Meet ramblin' Dan McCarthy and we'll all go on the town!

So when troubles do befall me, to the high road I do haul me, Ramblin' Johnny's what you call me, 'tis me blessing and me bane. Though my comrades have been many, I'll take a drink with any, 'Till I've spent me last wee penny, and life I'll not see again.

If you're bent with arth-er-itis, your bowels have got colitis You have gallopin' bollockitis and you're thinkin' it's time you died You've been a man of action tho you're lyin' there in traction You may gain some satisfaction sayin' "Jaysus, at least I tried!"

(NB: verse 3 author unknown: collected from Tom and Marie Teven) (NB: verse 4 author unknown: collected from Stephen Whitis)



                 -recorded by Steeleye Span
      There chanced to be a Pedlar bold,
      A Pedlar bold there chanced to be
      He put his pack all on his back
      And merrily trudged o'er the lea
      By chance he met two troublesome blades
      Two troublesome blades they chanced to be
      And one of them was Robin Hood
      The other, Little John so free
      (Chorus): Gentlemen of high-born blood
                Gamble Gold and Robin Hood!
      "Oh Pedlar, Pedlar, what's in your pack?
      Come speedily, and tell to me"
      "I've several suits of the gay green silk,
      And silken bowstrings two, or three."
      "If you've several suits of the gay green silk
      And silken bowstrings two or three,
      Then, by my body," said Robin Hood,
      "Half your pack belongs to me!"
      "Oh nay, oh nay," said the Pedlar bold
      "Such a thing can never be!
      For there's never a man in Nottingham
      Can take one half my pack from me!"
      Then Little John he drew his sword,
      The Pedlar by his pack did stand
      They fought 'til the blood in streams did flow
      'Til he cried, "Pedlar, hold your hand!"
      Then Robin Hood was standing by
      And he did laugh most merrily
      Saying "Perhaps a man of smaller scale
      Could thrash the Pedlar more than thee!"
      "Go try, my lord," cried Little John,
      "Go and try most speedily!
      There's never a man in Nottingham
      Can beat the Pedlar, and also me!"
      Then Robin Hood he drew his sword
      The Pedlar by his pack did stand
      They fought 'til the blood in streams did flow
      'Til he cried, "Pedlar, hold your hand!"
      "Pedlar, Pedlar, what's thy name
      Come speedily, and tell to me,
      For I am called bold Robin Hood
      And Little John, he stands by me!"

90 Robin Hood And The Pedlar (cont.)

      I'm Gamble Gold of the Gay Green Wood
      I've traveled far beyond the sea
      For killing a man in my father's land
      And from my country forced to flee"
      "If you're Gamble Gold of the Gay Green Wood
      Then my cousin you must be"
      We'll repair to a tavern near
      And bottles crack most merrily!"
  • note: sing the Chorus after every other verse, or so.


                 -Bertram of Bearington

(Tune: "There Were Three Bonnie Lassies, Came from the Isle of Wight")

      (nb: "Wearin' O' the Green" works, too)

There was a bonnie lassie, and she had brothers three; She did love a foreign lord, who came from Coventry. Her brothers did not like this and they told her to her face, "We're fearful, bonnie sister, the family you'll disgrace.

For you're a highborn Scottish lass, of noble highland birth, And we don't think no foreign laird can give you what you're worth!" She said, "He is a valiant lord - he'll show you what he's got, You'll see the stuff he's made of - he'll out-Scottish any Scot!"

"We'll set him tests of honor," the brothers they declared, "And if he canna do them, we'll surely know he's scared, In fact we clearly doubt that he'll escape from them alive, And so we'll set the contest - the trials will be five."

The first contest was golfing, in which the lord did fine. He killed a dozen hedgehogs while shooting the back nine. He double-bogied every hole, his ball went wide and far, But when they counted hedgehogs, they found he'd broken par!

The second one was piping, in which he held his own, He outdid all the brothers, for on and on he'd drone. He kept his pipes a'skirlin' 'til they all were out of breath, The reason - not his diaphragm - it's just that he's tone deaf!

The next trial was sword dancing - with bare feet & bare sword, And in this painful trial, he proved a mighty lord. "Good brothers I don't understand - you said this would be hard! They made me wear my armor when I learned to galliard!"

The fourth contest was drinking, the knight showed them his stuff. He chug-a-lugged from six more jugs when they had cried, "Enough!" He planned to take the excess home, he put it in a pail… "It makes a welcome change," he said, "from luke-warm English ale!"

The fifth and final contest, this valiant knight was told, Was to eat a hag-gis [pause] while it was still COLD! The knight he ate a score of them, he said "Good friends come here. I'll have another score, but - this time with Worcestershire!"

When the trials were over, her kin said "Sister dear, Though he has won the contest, you may not wed, we fear. For when we were out golfing, he proved his mind's unsound. The man, he must be crazy, he loaned me half a crown!"

"Begone you silly spendthrift, to you I won't be wed. The way you throw your gold around, you must have lost your head!" The knight he quit the highlands and returned to Coventry, The lass she wed a highland man, kept Scottish lovers, three.

Thus it goes in Scottish lands, the sexes both are bawds, Where half of them are bastards, and all of them tightwads! This tale is nearly over and I'm singin' on one lung, But to conclude the moral, at last it must be sung…


92 "Scotland's Depraved" (cont.)

CLOSING (to the tune of "Scotland the Brave")

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-h, (sound like a set of pipes starting up)

(1) Scotland it is the land, please (2) Baa baa baa baa baa baa baa

  For lusty lairds and lassies,         Baa baa baa baa baa baa baa
  Though England may be moral           Though England may be moral
                    SCOTLAND THE BRAVE

Hark when the night is fallin', hear, hear the pipes a-callin' Loudly and proudly callin' down thru the glen There where the hills are sleepin', now feel the blood a-leapin' High as the spirits of the old highland men!

     Towering in gallant fame, Scotland the mountain hame!
     High may your proud standards gloriously wave!
     Land of the high endeavour, land of the shining river,
     Land of my heart, forever, Scotland the brave!

High in the misty highlands, out by the purple islands, Brave are the hearts that beat beneath Scottish skies! Wild are the winds to meet you, staunch are the friends that greet you Kind as the light that shines from fair maiden's eyes!

     Towering in gallant fame, Scotland, my mountain hame!
     High may your proud standards gloriously wave!
     Land of the high endeavour, land of the shining river,
     Land of my heart, forever, Scotland the brave!

Far-off in sunlit places, sad are the Scottish faces, Yearnin' t'feel the kiss of sweet Scottish rain! Where tropic skies are beamin', love sets the heart a-dreamin', Longin' and dreamin' for the homeland again!

     Towering in gallant fame, Scotland, my mountain hame!
     High may your proud standards gloriously wave!
     Land of the high endeavour, land of the shinin' river, (lousy weather)
     Land of my heart, forever, Scotland the brave!

Hot as a burning ember, flaming in bleak December Burning within the hearts of clansmen afar! Calling to home and fire, calling the sweet desire, Shining a light that beckons from every star!

     Towering in gallant fame, Scotland, my mountain hame!
     High may your proud standards gloriously wave!
     Land of the high endeavour, land of the shining river,
     Land of my heart, forever, Scotland the brave!


                      THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS 
                              -The Kipper Family
      Well, as I come home on Monday night 
      I'd had nothin' at all t'drink
      I saw a horse behind the door....
      Well, that made me stop and think!
      A coat, some boots, a pipe I spied, 
      And then upstairs I ran.
      And there in bed, beside my wife, 
      Was a great big hairy man!
      Oh you come bargin' in, she cried,
      You've put him off his thrust,
      For me and the village smith, she cried, 
      Are practicin' our Lust!

CHORUS: As I come home each night

      Me troubles all begin
      For there's the Missus practicin' 
      The Seven Deadly Sins!
      Well, as I came home on Tuesday night
      As sober as a Judge
      I saw no tea upon my plate
      Where my old tea should lodge
      So I called my wife and I said to her
      Well, here's a rum old do!
      I got no tea upon my plate
      Is it somethin' to do with you?
      Well, sin of sin of sins, she said
      There's nothin' for your tea
      For I have been a-practicin' 
      The Sin of Gluttony!
      Well, as I come home on Wednesday night
      As dry as any old bone
      I saw the cat upon the stairs
      Where that should not have gone
      So I called my wife and I said to her
      Well, what's all this here, then?
      Why is the cat all on the stairs
      Where that should never have been?
      I'm upstairs practicin' Pride, she said
      In my best Sunday hat
      Pride comes before a fall, says I,
      Then I fell over the cat!
      Well, as I come home on Thursday night
      Me tongue all hangin' out
      I saw no books upon the shelf;
      They was all strewed about.
      So I called my wife and I says to her
      Don't tell me, let me guess:
      You've found another Deadly Sin
      That's called Untidyness!
      She said I'm a-tryin' to find out
      What Covetousness means

94 The Seven Deadly Sins (Cont.)

      I wish we owned that Diction'ry 
      We saw round at the Dean's! 
      Well, as I come home on Friday night
      A-gaspin' for a wet
      I saw no spouse upon the chair
      Where my ol' spouse do set
      So I called my wife and I says to her
      Well, what's a-goin' on?
      I left my spouse upon this chair
      Wherever has she gone?
      Look up! Look up! You silly old fool!
      I'm hangin' from the light
      For I am practicin' Sloth, she said,
      And I'll be here half the night!
                       SOMEBODY'S MOGGY
                             -Eric Bogle
      Somebody's moggy by the side of the road
      Somebody's kitty who forgot his Highway Code!
      Someone's favorite feline, who ran clean out of luck,
      When he ran into the street and tried to argue with a truck!
      Yesterday he'd birded and played in his kitty Paradise,
      Decapitating tweety-birds and masticating mice!
      Now he's just six pounds of raw mince-meat 
      That don't smell very nice.....
      He's nobody's moggy now!
      So if you love your kitty, be sure to keep him in,
      Don't let him argue with a truck; the truck is bound to win!
      If you let him play in the roadway I'm afraid that will be that
      There will be one last despairing "meow!"
      And a sort of sqelchy splat!
      And your kitty will be slightly dead, and very, very flat!
      He's nobody's moggy
      Just red and squashed and soggy......!
      He's nobody's moggy now!


               THE SICK-NOTE (SCA VERSION)
      (Tune: "In The Garden Where The Praties Grow")
  My Lord, I write this note, for to tell you of my plight.
  And at the time of writing, I am not a pretty sight.
  My body is all black and blue, my face, a deathly grey.
  And I write this note to say why I'm not on the wall, today.
  While working on the castle wall, some bricks I had to clear.
  For to throw them down from off the top seemed quite a good idea.
  But the bailiff, he would not agree, him being an awful sod.
  He said I'd have to cart them down the ladder, in my hod.
  Well, clearing all these bricks by hand, it seemed so very slow.
  So I hoisted up a barrel, and secured the rope below.
  But in my haste, to do the job, I was too blind to see,
  That a barrel full of building bricks is heavier than me.
  So when I untied the rope, of course, the barrel fell like lead.
  And clinging tightly to the rope, I started up instead.
  I shot up like an arrow, and to my dismay I found,
  That halfway up, I met the bloody barrel coming down.
  Well, the barrel broke my shoulder as towards the ground it sped,
  And when I reached the top, I banged the pulley with my head.
  I clung on tight, though numb with shock, from that almighty blow,
  While the barrel spilled out half it's bricks,
                                    some forty feet below.
  Now when the bricks had fallen from the barrel to the floor,
  I then outweighed the barrel, so I started down once more.
  Still clinging tightly to the rope, I raced towards the ground.
  And I landed on those broken bricks that lay scattered all around.
  While, as I lay there moaning, I thought sure I'd passed the worst,
  But when the barrel hit the top, 'twas then the bottom burst.
  A shower of bricks rained down on me, I didn't have a hope,
  And in the great confusion, I let go the bloody rope.
  Well, the barrel now was heavier, and it started down once more.
  And it landed right on top of me, as I lay there on the floor.
  It broke three ribs, and my left arm, and I can only say,
  I hope you understand why I'm not on the wall, today.


                       SOMEBODY'S MOGGY-LAND
               (Tune: "No-man's Land," by Eric Bogel)
               (Words: Unknown, but doubtless depraved individual)
      Well, how are you doing, old Moggy the Cat?
      I just noticed you lying where I almost sat.
      Do you mind if I push you a bit to the side?
      I've been walking all day on the road where you died.
      You've been squashed like a butterfly pressed between glass:
      Were you hit by a truck that was moving too fast?
      Did he slam on the brakes as he saw you go past?
      Or, Moggy the Cat, did he step on the gas?
      CHORUS: Did he honk the horn loudly?
              Did you stand your ground proudly?
              Did a shadow fall o'er you as the truck mowed you down?
              Did you die with a yowl and a big fuss?
              Did the birds come and pick at your carcass?
      The ground squirrels and mice all seem happy today,
      The butterflies frolic and hummingbirds play.
      A mockingbird sits there composing a dirge
      'Till he finally yields to his scavenger urge.
      The robins and sparrows all join in the feast
      In their joyous relief that the terror has ceased.
      And the birds dance around you, not sad in the least,
      Like the Munchkins danced over the Witch of the East.
      Old Moggy the Cat, I sure wish I knew why
      You road-kills look so damned surprised when you die.
      Did you think that some animal spirit survives?
      Did you really believe that a cat has nine lives?
      Well, if that is true, this is life Numbah Ten:
      Getting ever more flat, spinning 'round now and then,
      As the cars run you over again and again
      And again and again and again and again!


              SONG OF THE PEOPLES
                      -Erich Hlodowechssun
                      -Cyfrwys Llerwyrch Gan Annibyniaeth in Sigridson
                      -Ioseph of Locksley
      (Tune: "They Will Know We Are Christians By Our Love")

Oh they sleep with their ponies and they very seldom wash Oh they sleep with their ponies and they very seldom wash And they drink fermented mare's milk and they very often slosh And we'll know they are Mongols by their smell, by their smell Yes, We'll know they are Mongols by their smell

(the rest of the verses follow the same format)

Oh they mount on their ponies and forth they do ride And whenever they get upwind, the peasants choke and hide And we'll know they are Mongols by their smell…etc.

Oh they sound like a landslide that is going in reverse And a trio of tone-deaf mules could hardly sound worse And we'll know they are Scotsmen by their songs…etc.

Oh they play on an instrument that makes a dead dog flee And just to hear their music makes a foeman bend his knee And we'll know they are Scotsmen by their songs…etc.

Oh they set sail for England and arrived south of France And they stomp out the floorboards, and think that it's a dance And we know they are Vikings 'cause they're dumb…etc.

Oh they love to loot cattle, and to rape wenches too But they sometimes get it backward and they don't know what to do And we know they are Vikings 'cause they're dumb…etc.

They keep pigs in the kitchen and they eat with their knives And they take their entertainment in the sleaziest of dives And we'll know by their manners they are Huns…..etc.

Oh they sleep on the table or you'll find them beneath And whenever folks get married they will send a funeral wreath And we'll know by their manners they are Huns…..etc.

Oh they drink beer and whiskey and they never sober up And they smell like rancid still, and their breath could stop a dragon And we'll know they are Celtics by their booze….etc.

They ferment all their shamrocks and they make some Rivengut And if you take a real BIG drink, you'll wind up on your butt And we'll know they are Celtics by their booze….etc.

Oh they leap upon the ladies and they very often miss And when ladies faint from their bad breath they think it is their kiss And the Cavaliers all think that they're Don Juan…etc.



Song Of The Peoples (cont.)

They spend hours at the mirror, rehearsing all their "lines" When their lady yawns from boredom, it's "from passion" she repines And the Cavaliers all think that they're Don Juan….etc.

Oh they sit in the cafe eating garlic all the day And they surely keep the vampires (and the other folk) away And we'll know they are Italians by their breath…etc.

Oh they walk thru the doorway and they tell to you their names And the folk say "Gesundheit!" and it's always the same No one else can pronounce it so they make it all a game And we'll know they are Welshmen by their speech…etc.

Oh they write songs and lyrics, and they write epics, too And when seen, it's made wholly of "l"s and "y"s and "woos" And we'll know they are Welshmen by their speech…etc.

Oh they drink their bloody malmsey and their wine and ale all day If they invite you to dinner, take a hike and run away! And we'll know they are English by their food….etc.

Oh you'll never be a Laurel till you're old and fat and sour And you have to change your costume every hour on the hour And we'll know they are Caidans by their clothes….etc.

Cariadoc's a Duke who's authentic as can be And when he walks on water he is only four foot three And we know who he is because he's short, glows in the dark….etc.


    -orig. by Andregor Starseeker, new words by Ioseph of Locksley
                 (Tune: "Away With Rum")
      We're coming, we're coming our brave little horde
      Recruited from meadow, and mountain and fjord
      We'll fight in the rain and the fog and the sun
      We don't always win, but we always have fun!

CHORUS: Beware, beware the Mongol Horde, the Mongol Horde, the Mongol Horde!

      Beware, beware the Mongol Horde, the folks of the Western Irgun!
      We mass in our ranks with our banners unfurled
      We don't ask for much, just the rest of the world!
      You've nothing to fear if you do as you're told:
      Serve us lovers that are hot, or mead that is cold!
      Our fighters are rugged, they'll battle all day!
      For any old Cause, as long as there's pay!
      Like food, gold, or women, or Tullimore Dew!
      And to keep Aengus happy, a gerbil or two!
      When we see that the other side's numbers are more
      We invite them to join us the evening before
      In the morning their stomachs are bloated from feed,
      And they're all catatonic from drinking our mead!
      We're training some archers to join in our throng
      They may still be green but they're coming along
      They can hit any motionless target they see
      At a distance in paces no further than three!
      When you see us coming, there's no time to pray
      Just lock up your wine (and your daughters!) away
      But don't lock the castle, and don't try to hide
      Our ninjas are prob'ly already inside!


              TAKE HER IN YOUR ARMS
              (Tune: "Take Her In Your Arms")

Have you seen him by the HordeGate? He's been peering thru the hanna He's a lost and lonely cha'gua, is he not an awful sight? In love he was the most true, now he's scaring our k'shaktu If he'd only asked the TarKahn, well I'm sure she'd set him right!

CHORUS: Take her in your arms, and give her lots of amber

       Take her in your arms, but be sure to check for knives!
       Take her in your arms, and tell her that you love her
       If you're going to love a Mongol, then you better get it right!

He met her up on Horde Hill, while swilling down some road-kill And it all might have been different if he'd gone back home that night She was painted, she was scented, and she drove your man demented If he'd only asked the TarKhan, why, I'm sure he'd set him right!

He woke up by the roadside, he was barking like a gerbil He should not have drunk those Dragons if he'd meant to keep his pride He went begging for his lover, but she's with another Brother If he'd only asked the TarKahn, well I'm sure she'd set him right!

Now depression's not a million laughs, but seppuku's too dangerous Don't go leapin' onto daggers in the middle of the night It's not the fallin', but the landin' that can alter Kingdom standin' If he'd only asked the TarKahn, well I'm sure he'd set him right!

Here's a health to all our Brothers, k'shaktu and the others, Just one final word of wisdom for the truth is black and red! If you're thinkin' of romancin', with its' leapin' and its' dancin' BE SURE to ask the TarKhan, or you might be worse than dead!


                           -Bob Cockerall
                         (tune: Temperance Reel)
Just the other day I was invited to a funeral
But to my disappointment, the fella didn't die
He said he's very sorry then for havin' dissappointed us
And seein' as he apoligized, we let the thing go by
To ease our dissappointment, he took us out and treated us
He bought a quart of porter for a company of ten
And when we asked th' fellow whose money he was squanderin'
The fellow took his wallet out; we didn't ask again!
We got a concertina out all for to make some merriment
And none of us could play it tho we tried our best and worst
We made an awful noise on it, and if it's any benefit,
We played the thing so carefully that all the bellows burst
We got a boiled potato for to mend the concertina with
When someone struck Maloney with the carcass of a cat
He bundled back his whiskers, and he read out the riot act
And said he'd put two lumps upon the bugger who done that!
The owner of the beershop, when he saw us all a-riotin'
He ordered us to leave at once, but this we flat refused
So he whistled up some loafers who was standin' round the corner
And for ten or fifteen minutes we was bodily abused
We gathered up our dignity, and down the road we started,
A bunch of hungry urchins, well, they pelted us with mud
We told 'em they could chuck it, and they said they was a doin' that
And then they all run off and left us there a-standin' where we stood!
Well, just around the corner we ran into some Salvationers
Who rifled all our pockets, and inquired if we was saved
And poor old John McGinty got escorted to the station-house
For the song that he was singin', and the way that he behaved.
Well, for to free McGinty we all stripped off our undershirts
And to the local Pawnshop we marched the bloomin' lot
We told them that we only wanted ten-and-six on them
There's enough on them already, was the answer that we got!
We got ten-and-six on them all for to free McGinty with
Bad luck to the beershop we passed along the way!
Of course we couldn't pass it without havin' some refreshment
And we squandered every penny of the fine we had to pay....
The liquor bein' in us, well, the sense it went all out of us
And for a bit of riotin' we quickly did repair
We battered one another as we re-arranged the tables
Keepin' track of lighter objects that was flyin' thru the air!
McPherson hit McCannlesh and McCannlesh hit another man
And another man, another man, and any man was right
And poor old crippled MacNamara, sittin' doin' nothin'
Got a kick that broke his jaw for not indulgin' in the fight
We fought around like Turks until the police came and parted us
And carted us away with broken noses and black eyes
I got thirty days in prison, but to me it was a lesson
That I'll go no more to funerals...until the fella dies!


                   THE THONG OF THOR
                   (Tune: "Girl I Left Behind Me")

In days of yore, the great god Thor would ramp around creation. He'd drink a pint and slay a giant and save the Nordic nation, Or kill a Worm to watch it squirm and vainly try to fang him, Or lock up Loki in the pokey and on the noggin bang him.

Once he did bawl through Thrudvang Hall that on a trip he'd wander In a disguise from prying eyes, in Midgard way out yonder, So all his slaves, huscarls and knaves, packed up his goods and gear, O, And off he strode, on Bifrost road, a perfect Aryan hero.

In Midgard land he joined a band of hardy Viking ruff-i-ans, And off they sailed and rowed and bailed among the auks and puff-i-ans. Whene'er they'd reach a foreign beach they stopped to raid and plunder; Each Nordic brute got so much loot their longship near went under.

But as they rolled in coins of gold, they had one joy forsaken, For on each raid Thor's party made, no women could be taken. Each drab and queen fled from the scene when Viking sails were sighted, And Thor felt the need for certain deeds that had gone unrequited.

Thor's brows were black as they went back to Oslo's rocky haven; Unto his crew he said, "Beshrew me for a Frankish craven "If I don't wrench some tavern wench, or else may Frigga damn her." Replied one voice, "You got first choice; you've got the biggest hammer."

Into an inn that crew of sin disembarked upon their landing, Each tavern maid was sore afraid of pirates of such standing. But golden coins warmed up their loins and the ale soon ran free; Thor's motley crew poured down the brew and made an all-night spree.

Thor's glances strayed unto a maid with hair as gold as grain, A lisp so shy, a downcast eye, and not a trace of brain; He swept her charms into his arms and to an upstairs bower, And did not cease nor give her ease for six days and an hour!

When he rose up and drained a cup, she looked like one that's near death: Her limbs were weak, she could not speak, and only gasped for her breath. "You ought to know, before I go, I'm Thor," he bade adieu. "You're Thor!" said she. "Conthider me! I'm thorer, thir, than you!"


                   THRU ALL THE KNIGHTS
                             -M. Porath
                   (Tune: "All Thru The Night")
      Sleep my child, while I am singing
      All thru the night!
      Mongol arrows soon will be winging
      Thru all the knights!
      Chivalry will guard your slumber
      In a fast decreasing number!
      Soon our path they'll not encumber,
      We're thru all the knights!
                      -Yang the Nauseating
          (Tune: "Tiptoe Thru The Tulips")

Tiptoe 'cross the rooftops, 'cross the rooftops, Won't you come along and tiptoe 'cross the rooftops with me?

Walking 'cross the rooftops…etc.

Strolling 'cross the rooftops…etc.

      //Aren't you putting on a little weight there, Hrothgar?//

Fighting 'cross the rooftops….etc.

      //I thought -you- silenced the guard!!!//

We'll soon be rich now from the rooftops, Won't you come along and…..steal…..'cross the rooftops with me!


                      TRY A MINSTREL
                              -Andregor Starseeker
                      (Tune: unknown)
      Don't follow a warrior with armour that shines
      His attention's for fighting first, second for wine
      You'll haul armour to please him and polish it fine
      When you want your reward, he'll be snoring like swine!

CHORUS: But a minstrel is gentle, his touch it is light

      He knows how to entertain throughout the night!
      He's never too tired, or too bruised from a fight!
      A minstrel's quick tongue can make you feel right!
      Don't chase after a married man, 'twill soon make you tear
      You'll be stuck in the closet when his lady is near
      When the challenge is gone, you'll be dumped on your ear
      But a minstrel can help you restore your good cheer!
      Don't service a King, it's like fighting the air!
      With a Kingdom to rule, you're the -least- of his cares!
      His Throne and his glory won't be yours to share,
      And you're -dead- if you bring him an unscheduled heir!
      Don't sleep with the nobles, unless you've no pride,
      They've one place for a woman, and that is inside!
      From cooking and cleaning, you'll soon want to hide
      Till a minstrel does find you and away you will ride!
      Don't sleep with a Viking, let me tell you why:
      Their swords are all rusty, their bed's never dry,
      They'll leave for a year in the wink of an eye,
      And you know they're not lonely when docking time's nigh!
      Stay away from the rich men, they act just like boys
      You'll never be more than just one of their toys!
      They'll cast you aside if you make too much noise
      A minstrel's soft caring is the sweetest of joys!


                 TULLEY DEW
                      -Brom Blackhand
              (Tune: "Foggy Dew")
      As down the glen, one early morn, 
               At a tourney fair and high
      There came mad lines of drunken men, 
               In armor passed me by
      Oh, half and some from the Kingdom come,
               And some were Hordesmen, too!
      Said one going by, with a winking eye:
              "They've been sipping on the Tulley Dew!"
      As back thru the camp I took a tramp, 
              And my heart with grief was sore
      To see Viking men worship toilet bowls 
              Instead of the Great God Thor
      Oh, hours they moan with weapons thrown
              And they utter strange war-cries new;
      It's not from the cuts that they spill their guts
              It's from sipping on the Tulley Dew!
      At last my sight, in the early night, 
              The camp was in a merry roar
      Now the bodies around on the cold hard ground 
              Bespeak a dreadful war
      They lay around on the cold hard ground
              With faces anemic and blue
      With cold stone beds 'neath their swirling heads
              All from sipping on the Tulley Dew!
      Two Kingdom knights did have a fight 
              O'er a wench to take to lair
      For when you've had enough of that vile stuff
              Oh, the rattiest wench looks fair!
      The dreadful sight in the morning's light
              Should teach us some lessons new!
      Emotions mislaid, and your friends betrayed
              All from sipping on the Tulley Dew!


      THE TWELVE DAYS OF LADY (insert name)
 (with slight modifications by Ioseph of Locksley)
       (c) copyright 1991 Jim Woodyatt
      (Tune: "The 12 Days of Christmas")

This is constructed as a dialogue/duet between a King and a Lady. Some parts are -spoken-, and these are indicated by quotes.

 K: On my first day as King, Lady (insert name) said to me:
 L: I want to be a Court Baroness!
 K: "What! Have you finally lost your head? The peerage would
    never accept it! Why, they'd probably write letters! To the
    BoD, even!"
 L: "Kings cannot be impeached, you simpering fool! Now shut up
    and do as I tell you! I have a plan....."
 K: On my second day as King, Lady (insert name) said to me:
 L: You must knight two obnoxious squires!
 K: "So no one will be surprised when I make you...."
 L: "....a Court Baroness. That's right!"
 K: On my third day as King, Lady (insert name) said to me:
 L: You must use three different swords!
 K: "....when I knight the two obnoxious squires?"
 L: "So I can be a Court Baroness; that's part of the plan.
    And -stop whining-." (King whimpers) "Don't whimper, either!"
 K: On my fourth day as King, Lady (insert name) said to me:
 L: You must fight in four foreign wars!
 K: "With the three different swords?"
 L: "Leading the two obnoxious squires.."
 K: "So that...."
 L: "Yes. So that I can be a Court Baroness!"
 K: "What kind of a plan is that?"
 L: "You have any better ideas, Meathead?"
 K: ""
 L: "That's why I'm running your Court."
 K: On my fifth day as King, Lady (insert name) said to me:
 L: You must SILENCE that wretched Bard!
 K: "Hey! I -like- his stuff!"
 L: "He's wretched. Besides, he has no respect for authority."
 K: (muttering) "Like Court Baronesses?"
 L: "Silence him!"
 K and L: At the four foreign wars
          With two obnoxious squires....
          And three swords
 L: So that I can be a Court Baroness!
 K: On my sixth day as King, Lady (insert name) said to me:
 L: (pause for gesture) "THE BELLY DANCING HAS GOT TO STOP!"
 K: "But..."
 L: "NO buts! I'm totally inflexible on this."
 K: (pleadingly) "But...."
 L: "Especially you gotta get rid of the one over there! She has
    far too cute of a..."
 K: "But...."
 L: "Shaddup."

107 12 Days Of Lady (insert name) cont.

 K: On my seventh day as King, Lady (insert name) said to me:
 L: " Lord is asleep in the firepit; you wanna
    slip into my tent for a nice hot....steaming...cup of tea?"
 K: "WOW! Only took a week!" (leers)
 L: (resignedly) So that I can be a Court Baroness!
 K: On my twelfth day as King, Lady (insert name) said to me:
 L: There are twelve Autocrats complaining
              Eleven Barons bitching
              Ten Mongols laughing
              Nine Laurels cursing
              Eight Seneshals screaming
              Seven maids a-muttering
              Six belly-dancers dancing
              Four foreign wars
              With three swords
              And two obnoxious squires
              So that I can be a Court Baroness!
 K: On my last day as King, Lady (insert name) said to me:
 L: "Now you may make me a Court Baroness!"
 K: "So I told the" twelve Autocrats complaining
                    Eleven Barons bitching
                    Ten Mongols laughing
                    Nine Laurels cursing
                    Eight Seneshals screaming
                    Seven maids a-muttering
    "Exactly where to GET OFF! And I kept the"
                  Six belly-dancers dancing
                  That damned obnoxious Bard
                  Four foreign wars
                  All three swords
 "And kicked the two obnoxious squires all the way to
 Pennsic (Estrella), so...(insert name) won't EVER get to be..."
     L: (sadly) .....A Court Baroness.....


               UNDER THE SHIELD WALL
Oh, when the sun is hot and your head's burning in your helm
And though you fight and fight neither side can overwhelm
Under the shield wall, it's the place to be
With my lady beside me, willingly
      Under the shield wall, where it's quiet and dark
      Under the shield wall, like our own private park
      Under the shield wall, polearms crashing above 
      Under the shield wall, we'll be making love
      Under the shield wall, shield wall
Oh, it's the safest place that fighters can ever be
No weapon reached there to break our sweet tranquility
Under the shield wall, out of the sun
With my lady beside me, we'll be having fun
So when the sides are joined and you'll find yourself in the press
Why don't you join me there and take a break from battle stress
Under the shield wall, it's the place to be
With my lady beside me, carnally


                             -Thorfinn Halfblind
            (Tune: "Banana Boat Song")
  <spoken> A recent archeological dig has unearthed one of the 
  earliest extant Gregorian chants.  It was found in the cracks of 
  a wine cask in the old storm cellar of the monestary at Lindis-
  farne, and was written (we surmise) sometime around AD 800.  
  Oddly enough, this chant was written in the vernacular of the 
  time, rather than Latin.  Rather than leave you foundering with 
  an obscure dialect of Northumbrian, we've taken the liberty of 
  translating it into modern English.

Day-o! De-aye-o!

      De Vikings come and we want dem go home!
      Dey have no respect for de holy relics!
      De Vikings come and we want dem go home!
      Dey pawn dem off at Hedeby and Birka!
      De Vikings come and we want dem go home!
      Dey chase de sheep and dey burn de village!
      De Vikings come and we want dem go home!
      Dey drink all de wine and den dey pillage!
      De Vikings come and we want dem go home!
      Dey dragged off the nuns for sale in chains!
      De Vikings come and we want dem go home!
      Dey melt down the mitres for pocket change!
      De Vikings come and we want dem go home!


             WE ARE THE SCA!
              -Anonymous (with new words by Ioseph of Locksley)
             (Tune: "The Engineers")

CHORUS: We are, we are, we are, we are, we are the SCA

       Let's gather up our swords and shields and go on out to play
       We'll walk into the revel tonight and carry a wench away!
       Come live with us and join the fun! We are the SCA!
 Cathal and MacGowan once found a gallon can
 Said Cathal, "Match me drink for drink, and show that you're a man!"
 They drank three drinks, Lord Cathal died, his face was turning green
 McGowan just drank on and said, "It's vintage gasoline!"
 Godiva was a lady who from Coventry did ride
 To show to all the populace her pretty bare white hide
 The most observant man there was (insert name), of course
 'Twas the only one that noticed that Godiva rode a horse!
 She said, "I've come a long, long way, and the man will go as far
 Who'll take me off of this goddam horse and lead me to a bar!"
 The man who took her off the horse and filled her full of beer
 Was Yang the Nauseating, and a man from Castlemere!
 Sir Francis Drake and all his ships set out for old Calais
 They heard the Spanish rum fleet was headed out their way;
 But the Western Dark Horde beat 'em there by a night and half a day
 And though they were drunk as ptarmigans, you still could hear them say:
 The Roman Empire fell one day, it was an awful shock
 The noise it made was terrible, t'was heard for several blocks!
 The Goths and Vandals did the deed, I'm not sure of the day
 And then they went and started up the bloody SCA!
 Descartes was a philosopher, he thought, therefore he was;
 I think I think, so I think I am, and this is just because
 If you drink sufficient Tullimore Dew, you'll be a drunken sot,
 And figure out that the SCA is -all- a Locksley Plot!
 The fighters of the Outlands went out to have some fun
 They went down to the tavern where the fiery liquors run
 But all they found were empties, for the Great Dark Horde had come,
 And swapped the Middle Kingdom for gallon kegs of rum!
 You may think to us that fighting's all, but that just isn't true!
 We often stop for letching and perhaps a drink or two!
 And sing about our glorious deeds, and slayings by the score,
 Then turn a shade of sickly green and stumble out the door!
 Me father was a mercenary and an ugly brute,
 Me mother was a madam in a house of ill repute
 The last time that I saw them, a-rollin' in the hay,
 They said, "Go down to Atenveldt, and join the SCA!"
     We are, we are, we are, we are, we are the Great Dark Horde
     Let's gather up our swords and knives, and go pick on the Lords!
     We'll walk into the revel tonight and try not to be bored....
     Come live with us and join the fun! We are the Great Dark Horde!


             WHEN I WAS A YOUNG GIRL
                           -L. Crowe
             (Tune: "The Ash Grove")
  When I was a young girl and very protected
  I thought that the Mongols were to be decried.
  But now I am older, and I found out different,
  I've learned that a Mongol shall not be denied!
    And I say to myself, this is not as I planned,
    This burning and sacking and looting of towns!
    I could have been Queen, but things turned out different;
    And if you've a knife, you've no need for a Crown!
  One day I went walking, one morning for pleasure,
  I there met the Mongol who soon changed my life!
  He had me; I had him; we then had each other,
  I bore him a son, and he took me to wife!
    And I say to myself, as I dress for the War,
    In leathers and furs with my braids hanging down:
    My life may be strange, but it never is boring!
    And if you've a knife, you've no need for a Crown!
             WHEN I WAS A YOUNG MAN 
                         -Peter S. Beagle
                  (Tune: "The Ash Grove")
When I was a young man and very well thought of 
I couldn't ask aught that the ladies denied 
I nibbled their hearts like a handful of raisins 
And I never spoke love but I knew that I lied. 
  But I said to myself Ah, they none of them know 
  The secret I shelter and savor and save 
  I wait for the one who will see through my seeming 
  And I'll know when I love by the way I behave. 
The years drifted over like clouds in the heavens 
The ladies went by me like snow on the wind 
I charmed and I cheated, deceived and dissembled 
And I sinned and I sinned and I sinned and I sinned 
  But I said to myself, ah, they none of them see 
  There's part of me pure as the whisk of a wave 
  My lady is late but she'll find I've been faithful 
  And I'll know when I love by the way I behave. 
At last came a lady both knowing and tender 
Saying you're not at all what they take you to be 
I betrayed her before she had quite finished speaking 
And she swallowed cold poison and jumped in the sea 
  And I say to myself when there's time for a word 
  As I gracefully grow more debauched and depraved 
  Ah, love may be strong, but a habit is stronger 
  And I knew when I loved by the way I behaved. 


  Who's Afraid of the Great Dark Horde, the Great Dark Horde, 
  The Great Dark Horde?
  Who's afraid of the Great Dark Horde?
  The Middle Kingdom!
  And thee...........
                 THE WILD ROVER 

CHORUS: And it's no! Nae! Never! No, nae, never, no more!

      Will I play the wild rover, no never, no more!
 I've been a wild rover for many a year
 And I've spent all me money on whiskey and beer
 But now I'm returning with gold in great store
 And I never will play the wild rover no more
 I went into an alehouse I used to frequent
 And I told the landlady my money was spent
 I asked her for whskey, she answered me "Nay!
 Such a custom of yours I can get any day!"
 Then out of my pocket, I took sovereigns bright,
 And the landlady's eyes opened wide with delight
 She said, "I have whiskey, and wines of the best,
 And the words that I spoke, sure were only in jest!"
 I'll go back to my parents, confess what I've done, 
 And ask them to pardon their prodigal son.
 And if they forgive me, as oftimes before,
 Then I never will play the wild rover no more!
                 WILLIE MACINTOSH
            (The Burning of Auchendown)
                    (Child 183)
           recorded by the Silly Sisters
 As I cam by Fidduch-side, on a May morning,
 I spied Willie Macintosh, and hour before the dawning:
         Turn again, turn again, turn again I bid ye!
         If ye burn Auchendown, Huntley he will heid ye!
         Hunt me or heid me, that sall never fear me!
         I sall burn Auchendown before the life leaves me!
 As I cam in by Auchendown, on a May morning,
 Auchendown was in a blaze, an hour before the dawning!
         Crawing, crawing, for a' your crowse crawing...
         Ye brunt your crop and tint your wings 
               an hour before the dawning!


                    -Lloyd ap Taliesin y Felinfoel
              Copyright (C) 1991, James Woodyatt
    Savagely filked [without remorse] from the Music Man
     (Insert the name of any four syllable barony with
                    an attitude problem)

Well, either you are closing your eyes to a situation you do not wish to acknowledge, Or you are not aware of the caliber of disaster… indicated by the presence of a beer tavern in your community.

Well, ya got trouble my friends, I say trouble right here in Calafia. Why sure I'm a storyteller, I'm always mighty proud, I say I'm mighty proud to say it. I consider that the hours I've spent in front of a crowd are golden… Helped me cultivate horse sense, and a cool head and a keen eye. Ya ever try to give an iron clad leave to yourself from a royal command performance? But just as I say it takes judgement, brains and maturity to get a harp argent for singing sixteenth century sea shanties, I say that any boob… Can get drunk and murder the lyrics to a Broadway showtune… And I call that sloth. And the first big step on the road to the depths of degrada[tion]… I say first… medicinal wine from a teaspoon, then beer from a keg.

And the next thing you know your son's singing filks and wearing a cavalier hat, And listening to some egotistical Norman, here to tell all about country dancing, Not a wholesome courtly dance, No!, but a dance where you actually touch your partner's hands. Ya like to see some big, ugly Welshman drooling on Your daughter's arm, make your blood boil, well I should say… Now friends, let me tell you what I mean… Ya got one, two, five, ten, fifteen, twenty ounces in a pint. Ounces that mark the difference between a nobleman and a tinker, With a capital 'T', and that rhymes with 'B', and that stands for Beer.

And all week long your Calafian youth'll be piddling away, I say your young men'll be piddling…. Piddling away their noon-time, supper-time, chore-time too, Just get the beer in the tankard Never mind getting the dandelions pulled, the tent flap patched or the beefsteak pounded. Never mind hauling any water 'til you parents are caught with the dishes all dirty on a Saturday night And that's trouble.

Oh, yes we've got lots and lots trouble I'm thinking of smalls in their little clothes, shirt tail young ones, peeking in the tavern window after sundown Trouble! Folks! Right here in Calafia! Gotta find a way to keep the young ones moral after all. 114 Trouble In Calafia (cont.)

Now, I know all you folk are the right kind of parents, So I'll be perfectly frank with you. Would you like to know what sort of conversation goes on when they're loafin' around that tavern? They'll be puttin' down Guinness; they'll be puttin' down Blackbush; Drinking that Connemara Dew like alcohol fiends! And braggin' all about how they're gonna cover up a telltale breath with a bit of raw clove, One fine night, they leave the tavern, headed for the dance in Bedlam, Libertine men and scarlet women and belly dancing with shameless music That will grab your son, your daughter, in the arms of a jungle animal instinct. Mass hysteria! Friends, the idle brain is the devils playground, Trouble! (Oh! We got trouble!) Right here in Calafia! (Right here in Calafia!) Trouble with a capital 'T', and that rhymes with 'B', and that stands for Beer. (That stands for beer!) Oh yes, we've got trouble. (Our children have got trouble!) Right here in Calafia! (Right here!) Remember the code of chivalry and the golden rule.

Mothers of Calafia. Heed this warning before it's too late. Watch for the telltale signs of corruption. When your son leaves the pavilion, does he roll his sleeves up above the elbow? Is there a disgusting sludge in the bottom of his tankard that looks like it came from an Exxon spill? Is there a book of Irish folk songs hidden under his pillow? Is he starting to memorize jokes, and one-liners that the peerage would never approve of? Are certain ideas creeping into his mind? Ideas like, "Who cares if I never get an award…. ever." And, "The king's an idiot!" Aha! And, "Big deal if I get banished!" Well, if so my friends, You got trouble! (Oh! We got trouble!) Right here in Calafia! (Right here in Calafia!) That drink with water and the barley and the hops is the devils tool. (The devil's tool.) Yes, we've got trouble, trouble, trouble. (Our children have got big, big trouble.) With a capital 'T', (With a capital 'T') And that rhymes with 'B', (And that rhymes with 'B') And that stands for Beer. (That stands for beer!)


                     -Saavogg Haraldsson
 Yesterday...all my troubles seemed so far away
 Now it looks as though they're here to stay
 Oh, I believe in yesterday....
 Suddenly...I'm not half the man I used to be
 There's a shadow hanging over me
 Oh, yesterday came suddenly!
    Why he had to strike squarely there, he wouldn't say
    Right between my knees; how I long for yesterday! was such an easy game to play
 Now I have to look the other way
 I believe in yesterday!
 Yesterday...ladies were so easy to impress
 Now I need an icy cold compress!
 I believe in yesterday!
       (Tune: "Yesterday")
 Yesterday, all those Vikings seemed so far away,
 Now it looks as if they're here to stay.
 I liked it better yesterday.
 Suddenly, I am poorer than I used to be,
 All my treasures have departed me.
 Those Vikings loot so thoroughly.
 We were having fun, then they came and burned the town.
 They raped everyone.  When they leave I hope they drown.
 Yesterday, all those Viking seemed so far away,
 Now it looks as if they're here to stay.
 I liked it better yesterday.


                              -Elise Burger?
Lord Angus went down to Crown Tourney
A distance of many a mile
The tales he brought back from his journey
Will keep us amused for a while
CHORUS: For you never can tell at a tourney
        You will see things you haven't before
        It may seem a bit wild
        But it's all pretty mild
        You should see what goes on at the War!
He was trying both courtly and suave to appear
To a certain young lady he wished to impress
When what to his wondering eyes should draw near
But the Baron of Nordskogen --- clad in a dress!
Oh, the Baron looked really quite fetching
In fact, he could cause quite a stir
But the lady in question was kvetching
That the dress fit him better that her...
Twas the corset that made him the belle of the ball
An image that he will not easily escape
Indeed I'm surprised that he got out at all
For we fastened him in with a whole roll of tape!
So if period style is your passion
And if being authentic's your quest
Make sure you take note of the fashion
In which Barons are rightly addressed!
/data/webs/external/dokuwiki/data/pages/archive/music/bardic2.txt · Last modified: 1999/08/01 17:17 by

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