Page 94 SONG Krushkin Lan Let the farmer praise his grounds Let the huntsman praise his ho

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Page 94 SONG Krushkin Lan Let the farmer praise his grounds Let the huntsman praise his hounds Let the shepherd praise his dewy-scented lambs But I, more wise than they, spend each night and happy day With me charming little krishkin lan, lan, lan, With me charming little krishkin lan. CHORUS |------------------------------------------| | Oh grahm a cream a krushkin, | | Schlantsa gal ma voornen | | Grahm a cream a krushkin lan, lan, lan, | | Grahm a cream a krushkin lan. | |------------------------------------------| Immortal and divine, great Bacchus, god of wine Create me by adoption, make me your son In hopes you may comply, may me glass ne'er run dry Nor me darlin' Krushkin lan, lan, lan, Nor me darlin' Krushkin lan. CHORUS Now when grim death appears In a few but happy years He'll say, "Oh won't you come along with me?" I'll say, "Begone you knave, for King Bacchus gave me leave For to fill another krushkin lan, lan, lan." For to fill another krushkin lan. CHORUS So fill your glasses high Let's not part so dry Tho' the lark proclaims It is the dawn and since we can't remain May we shortly meet again To share another krushkin lan, lan, lan To share another krushkin lan. CHORUS Page 95 SONG The Eagle Rides Over the Border By: Sula von Pferdenthal The horses are taken in from the green fields, The brachets all howl at the moonrise. The shutters are bolted up tight and secure, The goodwives all tremble and cover their eyes. Their men are all silent out in the dark woods, Their hearts are not ready for slaughter. They hold fast their bills and axes and flails, As the Eagle rides over the border. The Eagle rides hard and the Eagle rides fast, In his train ride pillage and evil. He's fought seven years the ravaging Turks, And the fighting has made him a devil. The valley folk pray at the sound of his name, And reach for the good holy water. For horses and cattle and lives will be lost, When the Eagle rides over the border. His name and his deeds have reached far and wide, As those of Vlad the Impaler. He's driven the heathen back over the plains, And keeps him locked out like a jailer. They hang up the garlic outside their front doors, Silver crosses they hang on their daughters. The men go to fight by the light of the moon When the Eagle rides over the border. He's driven the Turk past the great iron gates And the Emperor gave him a castle. He's got holy relics all blessed by the Pope, And he's taken the Turks for his vassals. They listen afeared for the sound of his horse, The blood in their hearts turns to water. They creep away hangdog all home to their huts, As the Eagle rides over the border. He gallops abroad in his fine silver mail, All crimson and white is his tabard. And many's the Turk he has rended and slain, With the great sword that hangs in it's scabbard. With the rise of the sun they count all their herds, They embrace their goodwives and daughters. They give thanks to God that the Devil has gone, As the Eagle rides over the border. Page 96 SONG John Riley Fair young maid all in a garden Strange young man passing by Says "Fair young maid will you marry me?" This then was her reply. "Oh, No, kind sir, I cannot marry thee, For I've a love who sails on the salt sea. He's been gone for seven years, Still no man shall marry me." "What if he's in some battle slain, Or drowned in the deep salt sea? What if he's found another love And he and his love both married be?" "If he's in some battle slain, Then I will die when the moon doth wane. If he's drowned in the deep salt sea, I'll be true to his memory. "And if he's found another love, And he and his love both married be, I wish them health and happiness Where they dwell across the sea." He picked her up all in his arms and kisses gave her, one, two, three. Saying "Weep no more my own true love, I am your long lost John Riley." Saying "Weep no more my own true love, I am your long lost John Riley." Page 97 SONG Temperance Union 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. It's the song of the temperance union. We never eat fruitcake because it has rum And one little bite turns a man to a bum, Can you imagine a sorrier sight Than a man eating fruitcakes until he gets tight? We never eat cookies, they make them with 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 never drink Pepsi, it's made from cocaine, And you might as well shoot it right into your vein. Can you imagine a sorrier bind Than rotting your teeth while blowin' your mind. 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. 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? 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. 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. Page 98 SONG Four Drunken Maidens There were three drunken maidens come from the isle of Wight. They drunk from Monday morning, nonstop 'til Saturday night. When Saturday night came 'round me boys, they would not then go out. These three drunken maidens they pushed the jug about. Then up come handsome Sally, her cheeks as red as bloom. Move up me jolly sisters and give young Sally room For I'll be your equal before we then go out. These four drunken maidens they pushed the jug about. There's woodcock and pheasant, there's partridge and hare, There's all sorts of dainties, no scarcity was there. There's forty quarts of beer, me boys, they fairly drunk them out. These four drunken maidens they pushed the jug about. Then up come the landlord, he's asking for his pay. It's a forty pound bill, me boys, these girls have got to pay. That's ten pounds apiece, me boys, but still they wouldn't go out. These four drunken maidens they pushed the jug about. Oh, where are your feathered hats, your mantles rich and fine? They've all been swallowed up in tankards of good wine. And where are your maidenheads, you maidens brisk and gay? We left them in the alehouse, we drunk them clear away! Page 99 SONG Gypsy Rover The gypsy rover came over the hill Down through the valley so shady He whistled and he sang 'till the greenwoods rang And he won the heart of a lady CHORUS |-----------------------------------------------------| | Ah, dee doo, Ah dee doo dah day | | Ah, dee doo, Ah dee day dee | | He whistled and he sang 'till the greenwoods rang | | And he won the heart of a lady | |-----------------------------------------------------| She left her father's castle gate She left her own true lover She left her servants and her estate To follow the gypsy rover Her father saddled his fastest steed He roamed the valley all over He sought his daughter at great speed And the whistling gypsy rover He came, at last, to a mansion fine Down by the River Claydee And there was music and there was wine For the gypsy and his lady "He is no gypsy, my father," she said, "But lord of these lands all over. And I will stay 'till my dying day With my whistling gypsy rover." Page 100 SONG A Country Maid's Wedding Song By: Mot. Going to the country fair to see what I might see-o Perhaps I'll find a good man there who'll want to marry me-o Let his smile be as the sun that sheds its warmth on me-o Let his hair be silken fine where his head rests on my knee-o I don't ask that he be rich with house and land so fine-o If he offers me his heart, then I'll respond in kind-o When I'm to the altar led how happy I shall be-o When he holds me in his arms and gives me kisses sweet-o So gather round you fine young men, if marriage is on your mind-o If you give to me your love, then I will give you mine-o What a couple we shall be for all the folks to see-o If that you should marry me how happy we shall be-o Page 101 SONG Faire Opening - Closing (Used at California Renn. Faire) Faire Opening Awake! Awake! The day doth break Good craftsmen open your stalls Come greet the light Shake off the night The faire is open to all! Faire Closing Good craftsmen rest your weary voices Put your wares away Good travelers make your final choices Comes not the end of the day As the daylight dies like a rose The faire must come to a close As the sun deserts the sky We bid you good people goodbye Page 102 SONG The Trees They Do Grow High The trees they do grow high and the leaves they do grow green Many is the time my true love I've seen Many an hour I've watched him all alone He's young but he's daily growing. Father, dear father, you've done me a great wrong You have married me to a boy who is too young I'm twice twelve and he is but fourteen He's young but he's daily growing. Daughter, dear daughter, I've done you no wrong I have married you to a great lord's son He'll make a lord for you to wait upon He's young but he's daily growing. Father, dear father, if you see fit We'll send him to college for one year yet I'll tie blue ribbons all around his head To let the maidens know that he's married. One day I was looking o'er my father's castle wall I spied all the boys a-playing with the ball My own true love was the flower of them all He's young but he's daily growing. At the age of fourteen he was a married man At the age of fifteen the father of a son At the age of sixteen his grave it was green He's young but he's daily growing. Page 103 POEM On Going to the Wars By: Richard Lovelace (1618-1658) Written in 1649 Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chast breast and quiet mind (maybe chast shoud be chaste ?) To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, Dear, so much, Loved I not Honor more. Page 104 SONG Two Magicians (There are variations on the words for this one, the final verse in particular. There is also another version with a totally different tune, but similar story.) She looked out of the window As white as any milk He looked in at the window As black as any silt CHORUS |------------------------------------------------| | Hello, hello, hello, hello | | You, coal-black smith, | | You have done to me no harm, | | But you never shall have me maidenhead | | That I have kept so long. | | I'd rather die a maid, ah, but then she said | | And be buried all in me grave | | Than to have such a nasty, husky, | | Dusty, fusty, musty coal-black smith. | | A maiden I will die. | |------------------------------------------------| She became a duck, a duck all on a stream, And he became a waterdog and fetched her back again. (repeat chorus after each verse) She became a star, A star all in the night, And he became a thundercloud and muffled her out of sight. She became a rose, a rose all in the wood, And he became a bumblebee and stung her where she stood. She became a nun, a nun all dressed in white, And he became a catholic priest and prayed for her by night. She became a trout, a trout all in a brook, And he became a feathered fly who catched her with his hook. She became a corpse, a corpse all in the ground, And he became the cold cold clay and smothered her all around. Page 105 SONG Again and Again I married a wife, oh then, oh then I married a wife, oh then I married a wife, she's the plague of my life I wish I was single again. REF: Again and again and again and again Again and again and again My wife took a fever... I prayed wouldn't leave her For I wished to be single again My wife then she died... I laughed 'till I cried I was glad to be single again I went to the funeral... The band it play, and I danced all the way For the joy to be single again I married another... Far worse than the other And I wish I was single again! Page 106 SONG The Brisk Young Butcher It's of a brisk young butcher as I have heard them say He started out of London town all on a certain day Says he, "A frolic I will have my fortune for to try, I will go into Liestershire some cattle for to buy." When he arrived at Liester town he stopped into an inn He called forth a hosteler and boldly he walked in He called for liquors of the best and being a rambling blade He quickly fixed his eyes upon the lovely chambermaid. Then she took up a candle to light him up to bed And when she came into the room these words to her he said "One sovereign I'll give to you all to enjoy your charms." And this fair maid all night did sleep all in the butcher's arms. 'Twas early the next morning he arose to go away The landlord said, "Beg pardon, Sir, you have forgot to pay" "Oh, no," the butcher did reply, "Pray do not think it strange, One sovereign I gave your maid, and I haven't got the change." They straightway called the chambermaid and charged her with the same The golden sovereign she lay down for fear she'd get the blame The butcher he again went home well pleased with what was past And soon this pretty chambermaidd grew thick about the waist. 'Twas in a twelvemonth after he came to town again And then as he had done before he stopped at that same inn 'Twas then the buxom chambermaid she chanced him for to see She brought a babe just three months old and placed him on his knee. The butcher sat like one amazed and at the child did stare But when the joke he did find out how he did stamp and swear She said, "Kind Sir, it is your own, pray do not think it strange. One sovereign you gave to me, and here I've brought your change." Page 107 SONG The Cuckoo's Nest As I was a-walking one morning in May I met a pretty fair maid and unto her did say I'll tell you me mind, it's for love I am inclined And me inclination lies in your cuckoo's nest. REFRAIN : repeat after each verse |-----------------------------------------------------------| | Some like a girl who is pretty in the face | | And some like a girl who is slender in the waist | | Ah, but give me a girl who will wriggle and will twist | | At the bottom of the belly lies the cuckoo's nest. | |-----------------------------------------------------------| Me darling, says she, I am innocent and young I scarcely can believe your false deluding tongue Yet, I see it in your eyes and it fills me with surprise That your inclination lies in me cuckoo's nest. Me darling, says he, if you see it in me eyes Then think of it as fondness and do not be surprised I love you, me dear, and I'll marry you I swear If you'll let me clap my hand upon your cuckoo's nest. Me darling, says she, I can do no such thing Me mother often told me it was committing sin Me maidenhead to lose and me sex to be abused So, I'll thank you not to think upon me cuckoo's nest. Me darling, says he, it is not committing sin But common sense should tell you it is a pleasing thing For you were brought into this world to increase and do your best And to help a man to heaven in your cuckoo's nest. Me darling, says she, I cannot you deny You've surely won me heart by the rolling of your eye Yet, I see it in your eyes that your courage is surprised So gently lift your hand unto me cuckoo's nest. This couple they got married and soon they went to bed And there this pretty fair maid she lost her maidenhead In a small country cottage they increase and do their best And he often claps his hand upon her cuckoo's nest. Page 108 SONG The Wager My lady and her maid upon a merry pin, They made a match at farting, Who should the wager win. Joan lights three candles then, And sets them bolt upright. With the first fart she blew them out With the next she gave them light In comes my lady then, With all her might and main And blew them out And in and out And in and out again. Page 109 SONG Staines Morris Come, ye young men, come along, with your music, dance, and song Bring your lassies in your hand for 'tis that which love commands REFRAIN |---------------------------------------| | Then to the maypole haste away | | For 'tis now our holiday | |---------------------------------------| 'Tis the choice time of the year and the violets now appear And the rose receives it's birth, and the pretty primrose decks the earth And when you will reckoned have what kisses you your sweetheart gave Take them all again and more, it will never make them poor When you lads have spent your time, and the day is past it's prime To your beds repair at night and dream there of your day's delight. Page 110 Rounds SONG Heigh Ho Nobody Home Heigh, Ho, nobody home Meat nor drink nor money have I none Still, I will, be very merry Heigh, Ho, nobody home. Rose, Rose Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose Will I ever see thee wed? I will marry at thy will, Sire At thy will. Come, Follow, Follow By: John Hilton, 1596-1657 Come, follow, follow, follow, follow, follow, follow me. Whither shall I follow, follow, follow, Whither shall I follow, follow thee? To the greenwood, to the greenwood, to the greenwood, greenwood tree. Ah, Poor Bird Ah, poor bird Take thy flight High above the sorrows Of this sad night. Scotland's Burning Scotland's burning, Scotland's burning, Look out, look out! Fire, fire, fire, fire Pour on water, pour on water. Page 111 SONG Too Much of a Good Thing By: Peggy Seeger On Monday night he came to my door and he made such a din Get up, get up, you darling girl and let your lover come in Well I got up and I let him in And on me he did fall It was five o'clock in the morning before I got any sleep at all On Tuesday night he came to my door the joys of love to tend Get up, get up you darling girl, before I go round the bend Well I got up and I let him in and in my arms he lay I had to hear the stroke of four before he'd go away On Wednesday night he came to my door a little late in time I'd have been here sooner, you darling girl, but the hill's so hard to climb I hadn't been long at all in his arms before he let me be Then out of the house and down the road just after the stroke of three On Thursday night he came to my door so weary and so slow Oh, give me a drink, you darling girl, and then to work we'll go Well all night long he fought with it but I had to help him through And I heard him sigh as he rose to go, it's only after two On Friday night he came to my door shaking in every limb Get up, get up you darling girl, get up and carry me in Well, I got up and carried him in and gently laid him down But hardly could his spirits rise to reach the stroke of one On Saturday night he came to my door, he came on his hands and knees Oh, don't come down, you darling girl, stay home and let me be Well, I got up and I let him in, but he fell down in a swoon And though often I tried to raise him up he lay 'til Sunday noon. Page 112 SONG The Comical Dreamer Last night a dream came into my head Thou wert a fine white loaf of bread Then if May butter I could be, How I would spread, Oh! How I would spread myself on thee! This morning too my thoughts ran hard. That you were made a cool tankard Then could I but a lemon be How I would squeeze Oh! How I would squeeze my juice in thee! Lately, when Fancy too did roam Thou wert, my dear, a honeycomb: And had I been a pretty bee How I would suck, Oh! How I would creep, creep into thee! A vision too I had of old That thou a mortar wert of gold: Then could I but the pestle be, How I would pound Oh! How I would pound my spice in thee! Soon after, whims came in my pate, Thou wert a pot of chocolate And could I but the roller be, How would I rub, Oh! How would I twirl and froth up thee! But since all dreams are vain, my dear, Let now some solid joy appear: My soul still thine is proved to be - Let Body now, Oh! Let body now with soul agree! Page 113 SONG Monday Morning Early one morning, one morning in Spring To hear the birds whistle and the nightingales sing I met a fair maiden who sweetly did sing I'm going to be married next Monday morning How old are you, my fair pretty maid, Here in this valley, this valley so green? How old are you, my fair pretty maid I'm going to be 16 next Monday morning Now 16 years old that's too young for to marry So, take my advice five years longer to tarry For marriage brings troubles and sorrows begin So, put off your wedding for Monday morning Now, you speak like a madman, a man with no skill Three years I've been waiting against my own will And now I'm determined to have my own way And I'm going to be married next Monday morning And next Monday morning the bells they will ring My true love will buy me a gay golden ring And also he'll buy me a new pretty gown For to wear at my wedding next Monday morning And next Monday night when I go to my bed And I turn me around to the man that I've wed Around his middle my two arms I will fling And I wish to myself it was Monday morning. Page 114 SONG Two Maidens Two maidens went milking one day, Two maidens went milking one day, And the wind it did blow high And the wind it did blow low And it tossed their pails to and fro, la-la-la, And it tossed their pails to and fro. Well, they met with a man they did know, Yes, they met with a man they did know And they said if you've the will, And they said if you've the skill You might catch us a small bird or two, la-la-la, You might catch us a small bird or two. Here's the health to the blackbird in the bush, Here's the health to the merry, merry doe And if you will come with me Under yonder flowering tree I will catch you a small bird or two, la-la-la, I will catch you a small bird or two. So they went and they sat 'neath a tree, Then they went and they sat 'neath a tree, And the birds flew in and out, Pretty birds flew all about And they caught them by one and by two, la-la-la, And they caught them by one and by two Come, my boys, let us drink down the sun, Come, my boys, let us drink down the moon Take your lady to the wood If you really think you should You might catch her a small bird or two, la-la-la, You might catch her a small bird or two. Page 115 SONG My Love Come Late In Life By: Aislinn CHORUS |-----------------------------------------------------------------| | Oh, my love come late in life, who for a time is mine | | There's not a rose blooms by itself, but others 'round it twine | |-----------------------------------------------------------------| You came and took me by the hand and fair you spake my name And fair you looked unto my eyes and I to you the same CHORUS We walked in gardens of the sun and danced the circle gay The moon she sent her blessings down and likewise did the day CHORUS Oh, Lady, bless this bed of love whereon we two do lie And may our souls cling hand in hand far past the day we die CHORUS And glad I am the pact was made and glad the deed was done No matter in whose arms you've lain we still will be as one CHORUS Go take the Lady you must claim, go take her by the hand Our love is for another life, live this one as you can CHORUS Oh, my love come late in life, who for a time was mine There's not a rose blooms by itself, but others 'round it twine Page 116 SONG Mattie Groves One high, one high, one holiday on the very first day of the year Little Mattie Groves to church did go, God's holy word to hear. Well, the first to enter was the lady in white, the next the lady in blue The last to come was Lord Banner's wife, the flower among the few. She cast her eye on little Mattie Groves, little Mattie Groves on she What would you give my fine young man to spend one night with me? I dare not come, I dare not go, I dare not for me life For I see by the little ring you wear, you're the great Lord Banner's wife. So what if I am Lord Banner's wife, Lord Banner is not at home He is gone to London town to fetch King Henry's throne. Well, a little footpage was standing by, he took to his heels and he run He run till he come to the waterside, he bent his breast and swum. What news, what news, my little footpage, is my castle burning down Or is my lady brought to bed of a daughter or a son. No, your castle it is not burning down, you have no daughter or son Little Mattie Groves is in bed with your wife, they lie as they were one. Well, they hadn't been in bed about two hours, I'm sure it was not three When Lord Banner appeared in their chamber, standing at their bedfeet. ( Continued ) Page 117 Mattie Groves SONG ( Continued ) And how do you like my pillows, Milord? and how do you like my sheets? And how do you like that fair young maid who lies in your arms asleep? It's well that I like your pillows, Milord, it's well that I like your sheets But it's best that I love this fair young maid, who lies in my arms asleep Get up, get up, little Mattie Groves, get dressed as fast as you can It'll ne'er be said in the morning sun I slew a naked man. Oh, I can't get up, I won't get up, I dare not for me life For at your side hang two broadswords and I have nary a knife If at my side hang two broadswords they cost me deep in purse But you shall have the better of the two, and I shall have the worst The very first blow that little Mattie struck he struck Lord Banner sore The second blow Lord Banner struck, Little Mattie rose no more. He's taken his lady by the hand and placed her on his knee Saying "Who do you like the best, my dear, little Mattie Groves or me?" It's well that I like your rosy red cheeks, it's well that I like your chin But it's best that I love little Mattie Groves, than you or all your kin. He's taken her by the lily white hand and led her through the hall He's taken her to an upper room and killed her before them all. Go place these lovers in one grave, go place them deep within But place my lady on the top, for she's of a nobler kin. Page 118 SONG Must I Go Bound Must I go bound and you so free Must I love one who doesn't love me Must I be born with so little art As to love a one that will break my heart I put my finger to a bush I thought I'd find a trusty tree But first it bended and then it broke And so did my love prove false to me I leaned my back up against a strong oak I thought I'd find a trusty tree But first it bended and then it broke And so did my love prove false to me Must I go bound and you so free Must I love one who doesn't love me Must I be born with so little art As to love a one that will break my heart There is a ship that sails the sea She's loaded down as deep as deep can be But not so deep as the love I'm in I know not ere I sink or swim Oh, love be gentle and love be kind Gay as a jewel when first it's new But love grows old and then grows cold And fades away like morning dew. Must I go bound and you so free Must I love one who doesn't love me Must I be born with so little art As to love a one that will break my heart Page 119 SONG William Taylor I'll sing you a song of two true lovers And from Linsfield town they came The young man's name was William Taylor The young woman's name was Sarah Jane CHORUS ( repeat after each verse ) |------------------------------------| | Oh, the vow, oh, the breezes | | Vows and breezes fade away | |------------------------------------| William Taylor was a brisk young sailor He who courted a lady fair Bells were ringing, sailors singing As to church they did repair. Thirty pairs were at their wedding They were dressed in rich array But 'stead of William being married He was pressed and sent to sea So she dressed herself in man's apparel Went to fight amongst the rest The wind did blow her jacket open There they saw her lily white breast The Captain he stepped up to Sarah Asked her what had brought her there She cries, "I'm seeking me own true lover Whom I lately loved so dear." If you're seeking for your own true lover Tell me what his name may be. She cries, "His name is William Taylor And from Irish ranks came he." Page 120 William Taylor SONG (continued) If your love's name be William Taylor He has proved to you severe He was wed to a rich young lady He was wed this very same year You rise early tomorrow morning Rise up at the break of day And you'll see your William Taylor Walking out with his lady gay She called for a brace of pistols A brace of pistols she did command And she shot her William Taylor With his bride at his right hand When the Captain came for to hear it Saying, "Fair maid, what have you done?" And he's made her his first lieutenant On his ship of 900 ton Now she's on the quarterdeck walking Sword and pistol in her hand And everytime she gives orders Sailors tremble at her command Page 121 SONG The Squire's Song By: Lady Ulrike the Frank Written for Lord Valdermar Hammerhand, when he was squired to Sir Ian MacBaird. Tune: (Gospel) "The Day He Wore My Crown" The Kingdom Ansteorra, In days long ago, The man Sir Ian's squire, His honor on the field did show. Chorus: He wears my favor bright Brings honor to his knight, He proves himself the day he proves the dream. The court was hushed and quiet, His bardcraft to perform. He knows his Kingdom's heraldry, From studies hard and long. Chorus He could have shirked his duties, Left his Knight and gone to play; But instead he stayed to serve him Through the long hard days, The hot dusty days. The Kingdom Ansteorra, In days long ago, The knight was then a squire, His honor on the field did show. He wears my favor bright Brought honor to his knight, He proved himself the day he proved the dream. Page 122 SONG Today Today while the blossom still clings to the vine, I'll taste your strawberries, I'll drink your sweet wine. A million tomorrows will all pass away, Ere I forget all the joys that are mine today. Now I'll be a dandy, and I'll be a rover. You'll know who I am by the songs that I sing. I'll feast at your table, I'll sleep in your clover, For who knows what tomorrow may bring. I can't live forever on yesterday's glories, I can't live on promises winter to spring. Today is my moment, tomorrow my story, So I'll laugh and I'll cry and I'll sing. Page 123 SONG The Queen Among the Heather Traditional: Scottish, Ireland, and England. For it's up a wide and a lonely glen It was shed by many's a lofty mountain It being onto the busy haunts of men It being the first day that I went out a-hunting For it's been to me a happy day The day I spied my rovin' fancy She was herding her yowes oot ower the knowes And down amongst the curlin' heather For her coat was white and her goon was green Her body it being long and slender Wi' her cast-doon looks and her well-fared face It has oft-times made my heart to wander For it's I've been to balls where they were bust ???? (missing) And it's I've been to London and Balquither And the bonniest lassie that e'er I saw She was kilted and bare-fitted amongst the heather Says I: My lass, will you come with me And sleep wi' me in a bed of feathers? I'll gie you silks and scarlets that will mak' you shine If you'll be my queen amongst the heather She said: My lad, your offer's fair And I really think you're all for laughter For it's you being the son of a high squire man And me but a poor humble shepherd's dochter But it's her I sought and it's her I got And with her I intend to be contented Fare you well, fare you well to your heathery hill Fare you well, fare you well, my song it is ended Page 124 SONG The Little Beggarman Traditional Well, I am a little beggarman an' beggin' I have been Threescore years and more in this little Isle of Green I'm known from the Liffey way down to Killaloe And the name that I'm known by is Old Johnny Dhu Of all the trades an' callin's, sure, beggin' is the best For when a man is weary, he can aye sit down an' rest He can beg for his dinner, he has nothin' else to do Only toddle around the corner with his old rigadoo (CHORUS: Improvised to music. ) Dal-di-diddle-towdle-tiddle-rowdle-diddly-idle-dum. Well, I slept in a barn way down by Killavone On a dark and stormy night and sleepin' all alone With holes in the roof and the rain a-comin' through And the rats and the mice they were playin' peek-a-boo O, then, who did waken but the woman of the house With her white spotty apron and her calico blouse She began to cry and when I said: Boo O, now, don't you be afraid o' me, it's only Johnny Dhu CHORUS Well, I met a little flaxen-haired girl the other day Good morning to you, flaxen-haired girl, I did say Good morning, Johnny Beggarman, there's how do ye do? With your rags and your bags and your old rigadoo Well, I'll buy ye a pair o' trousers, a collar and a tie And a nice little lassie then I'll fetch her by an' by I'll buy a pair of goggles, and I'll paint them up so blue And that nice little lassie, I'll be her lover, too CHORUS Well, it's over the road, wi' me bag upon me back It's over the fields wi' me big haver-sack With holes in me shoes and me toes peepin' through Singing: Tithery-ump-a-daddy, sure, I'm old Johnny Dhu So now my song is ended and I'll bid you's all good night The fires are all raked and it's out with the light And now you've heard the story of the old rigadoo It's good luck and God be wid you's and to old Johnny, too Page 125 POEM Out of Sight, Out of Mind By: Barnabe Googe, 1563 The oftener seen, the more I lust, The more I lust, the more I smart, The more I smart, the more I trust, The more I trust, the heavier heart, The heavy heart breeds mine unrest, Thy absence, therefore, like I best. The rarer seen, the less in mind, The less in mind, the lesser pain, The lesser pain, less grief I find, The lesser grief, the merrier I, Therefore I wish thy sight to fly. The further off, the more I joy, The more I joy, the happier life, The happier life, less hurts annoy, The lesser hurts pleasure most rife, Such pleasures rife shall I obtain, When distance doth depart us twain. Page 126 SONG Barbry Ellen Traditional Scotch Folk Song Originated 16th Century All in the merry month of May When flowers were a bloomin' Sweet William on his death bed lay For love of Barbry Ellen. He sent his servant to the town, To the place where she was dwellin' No better shall I ever be If I can't have Barbry Ellen. Oh, mother, mother, make me a bed, Make it both long and narrow Sweet William died for me this day, I'll die for him tomorrow. They buried her in the old church yard, And buried William nigh her, There on his grave grew a big red rose, And on Barbry's grew a briar. They grew and grew to the old church tower Till they could grow no higher, They lapped and tied in a true love's knot, With the rose growin' round the briar. Page 127 Lord Lovel SONG Lord Lovel he stood at his castle gate, A-combing his milk-white steed; When up came Lady Nancy Belle, To wish her lover good speed, good speed, To wish her lover good speed. "Oh, where are you going, Lord Lovel?" she said, "Oh, where are you going?" said she; "I'm going, my Lady Nancy Belle, Strange countries for to see, to see, Strange countries for to see." "When will you be back, Lord Lovel?" she said, "When will you come back?" said she; "In a year or two, or three, at the most, I'll return to my fair Nancy, Nancy, I'll return to my fair Nancy." But he had not been gone a year and a day, Strange countries for to see; When languishing thoughts came into his head, Lady Nancy Belle he would go see, go see, Lady Nancy Belle he would go see. So he rode, and he rode, on his milk-white steed, Till he came to London town; And there he heard St. Pancras bells, And the people all mourning round, around, And the people all mourning round. "Oh, what's the matter?" Lord Lovel he said, "Oh what's the matter?" said he. "A lord's lady is dead" a woman replied, "And some call her Lady Nancy, Nancy, And some call her Lady Nancy." Page 128 Mary Hamilton SONG (This is one of a many versions.) Word is to the kitchen gone, And word is to the hall, And word is up to Madame the Queen, And that's the worst of all. "O rise, O rise, Mary Hamilton, O rise and tell to me, What hast thou done with thy sweet babe, I saw and heard weep by thee." "I put him in a handkerchief, And cast him out to sea, And I bade him sink or he might swim, He should ne'er come home to me." "O rise, O rise, Mary Hamilton, O rise and go with me, There is a wedding in Glasgow town, This day we'll go and see." As they came into Edinburgh town, The city for to see, The balie's wife and provost's wife, Said, O and alas for thee! "Last eve the Queen had four Marys, This night she'll have but three, She had Mary Seaton, and Mary Beaton, And Mary Carmichael, and me." "Last eve I washed the Queen Mary's feet, And bore her to her bed, This day she's given me my reward, This gallows-tree to tread." The Crystal Goblet Page 129 POEM By Sir Galen of Bristol. I have a goblet crystalline from which I drink my wine. Fair damsels come to drink therein, if they be so inclined. Now when they stop and so not pass they may take all they see; But what they drink from crystal glass must return in kind to me. One day as I awoke from sleep I saw a maiden fair. She begged to drink the crystal deep and great reward would share. She drank her fill, a lusty draught, of the juices of my heart. She gave her love but little out and from me then did part. The Goblet from her fingers fell and crashed upon the ground. She said, "The best wine I would tell; I must go search around." Each piece of goblet crystalline seemed such that t'would not fit. But I put best my effort in, and so, it seemed, did it. I have a goblet crystalline from which I drink my wine. Fair damsels come to drink therein, if they be so inclined. But Maiden, my heart you surprised, if you feel my wine's best, Do not be shocked if I devised my own cruel lover's test. Page 130 The Twelfth Knight POEM By: John The Bearkiller Twelve knights they rode upon the land, On horses strong and lean; eleven belts were old and grim the twelfth was young and green. The youngest knight was newly made Eldon was his name; he traveled with the elder men to earn both blade and fame. Barely tall and eighteen years sworn new to belt and chain, he strived to all like these men and live as evil's bane. They tired then, as sunset came and shelter now, their quest, into a peasant's yard they rode and demanded all the best. Eldon watched as the peasants bowed and hurried to and fro; to serve the noble knights requests and ward away their blows. Eldon could not understand how the treatment was deserved; to beat the peasants, these lowly folk, who had only meant to serve. A comely daughter of the house was grabbed and tossed about. Her brother tried to stay their hands, was beaten, called a lout. Eldon stood and drew his sword and as he freed the maid, knocked down Sir Karl and said quite low, "The next one tastes my blade." "How can you, all sworn to truth, treat this kindness such? Perhaps you've taught me all too well, for I find this way too much. "I'll take my sword and leave you now, To find my chivalry. For noble birth is no excuse for lies and hypocrisy." No Lady Copyright (C) 1987 Page 131 by Dierdre Mulleabhar POEM mka Debra Eccles I am no lady born I am the child of a hungry serf But I am fair, or so men say And so they came to me for mirth They had their way and left behind A cold and lonely heart So I asked for coins and jewels and such Before they could depart I had a little bag I hid Where never man could see And in this bag of mine I stashed My coins and my jewelry With passing time my hoard it grew Till I had a sufficient sum To buy a house and pretty clothes I knew leaving time had come So I moved to another land My identity I hid And there it was I quickly found Lords to do as I would bid They no longer had their way with me For they thought me a lady fair And I hid all I'd done from them No secrets did I bare A noble knight, a handsome lord Whose heart did for me yearn Spoke of marriage. I said "Yes". He had his will in turn. I am a good and loving wife To all the world it seems And for myself? I now have found A little of my dreams. Yes. I will be so good to him That he will think it love But I will not give my heart to him For by the stars above If I gave my heart to him I might tell him of my youth And I would lose what I have gained If I told him the truth Yes. You may think me cold. You may think me unkind. But life is as it is for me And I return just what I find. Page 132 SONG The Crafty Maid's Policy Come listen awhile and I'll sing you a song Of three merry gentlemen riding along They met a fair maid and to her did say We're afraid this cold morning will do you some harm. "Oh, no, kind sir," said the maid, "You're mistaken To think this cold morning will do me some harm There's one thing I crave which lies twixt your legs If you give me that, it will keep me warm." "Then since you do crave it, my dear, you shall have it If you'll come with me to yonder green tree Then since you do crave it, my dear, you shall have it I'll make these two gentlemen witness to be." So the gentleman lighted and straightway she mounted And looking the gentleman hard in the face Saying "You knew not me meaning, you wrong understood me." And away she went galloping down the long lane. "Oh, gentlemen, lend me one of your horses That I may ride after her down the long lane If I overtake her, I warrant I'll make her Return unto me my own horse again." But soon did this fair maid she saw him a-coming She instantly then took a pistol in hand Saying "Doubt not my skill that you I would kill I'll have you stand back or you are a dead man." "Oh, why do you spend your time here in talking? Oh, why do you spend your time here in pain? Come give her a guinea, it's what she deserves And I warrant she'll give you your horse back again." "Oh, no, kind sir, you're badly mistaken If this is his loss, well, this is my gain And you were a witness that he gave it to me." And away she went galloping down the long lane. Page 133 SONG Four Loom Weaver I'm a four loom weaver as many a one knows I've nought to eat and I've worn out me clothes Me clogs are both broken and stockings I've none You'd ne'er give me tuppence for owt I've gotten on Old Billy O't Bent he kept tellin' me long We'd have better times if I'd nobbut hold me tongue Well I've holden me tongue till I've scare lost me breath And I feel in me own heart I'll soon clem to death I'm a four loom weaver as many a one knows I've nought to eat and I've worn out me clothes Old Billy all ritt but he never were clemed And he never picked o're in his life We held on for six weeks, thought each day was the last We've tarried and Shifted till now we're quite fast We've lived upon nettles while nettles were good And waterloo porridge was the best of our food I'm a four loom weaver as many a one knows I've nought to eat and I've worn out me clothes Me clogs are both broken, no looms to weave on And I've woven meself to far end. Page 134 SONG Roll Your Leg Over If all the young ladies were little white rabbits I'd be a hare and I'd teach 'em bad habits |-------------------------------------------| CHORUS -| Roll your leg over, roll your leg over | | Roll your leg over the man in the moon | |-------------------------------------------| If all the young ladies were bricks in a pile I'd be a mason and lay them in style If all the young laddies were cocks in the hay I'd be a hen and I'd have a good lay If all the young ladies were bats in a steeple And I were a bat there'd be more bats than people If all the young ladies were bells in a tower And I were a clapper I'd bang every hour If all the young laddies were fine silks and laces And I were an iron I'd sit on their faces If all the young ladies were doors of stout wood And I were a knocker I'd bang 'em up good If all the young ladies were stones in a mill And I were some grain, between them I'd spill If all the young laddies were coconuts sweet I'd suck out their juices and chew on their meat If all the young ladies were winds of the sea I'd be a sail and I'd let them blow me ( continued next page ) Page 135 SONG Roll Your Leg Over ( continued ) If all the young ladies were birds in their nests I'd be an egg and lie under their breasts If all the young laddies were merry go rounds I'd mount up and we'd go up and down If all the young ladies were locks on a gate I'd be a key and insert and rotate If all the young ladies were pure as they say All the young men would be happy and gay If all the young laddies were big wooden stairs They'd go up mine and I'd go down theirs If all the young ladies were bottles of brew I'd pop their tops with my built in corkscrew If all the young laddies were bottles of beer I'd give good head and they'd be of good cheer If all the young ladies were sweet fruits and berries I'd munch on melons and nibble on cherries If all the young ladies were singing this song (--Sorry, the last line is missing. HELP!--) Page 136 SONG Be Not Afraid By: Mot Be not afraid, my little one Be not afraid of ill Be not, be not, be not Be not afraid for I will stay with you Lie down and sleep, my little one Lie down and close your eyes Lie down, lie down, lie down Lie down and dream For I will stay with you Father has gone to war Fighting the northern lords Fighting, fighting, fighting He will return, he will return to you Someday you'll be a knight Someday you'll be a knight Someday, someday, someday Someday you'll fight And I will pray for you Be not afraid, my little one Be not afraid of ill Be not, be not, be not, Be not afraid for I will stay with you Page 137 SONG The Unfortunate Troubador 'Twas the coldest darkest hour of night Black trees on either hand The troubador stole to beneath his loved one's Window and took his stand The moonlight shone on the silvery strings Of his battered old guitar And his song arose on the night air And was carried clear and far Refrain: Tra-la-la, tra-la-la Tra-la-la, la, la-la-la la, la-la-la-la Tra-la-la, tra-la-la Tra-la-la, la, la-la-la Oh, come my love to thy window That I may see thy face The goddess Aphrodite hath not thy fairy grace And if thou grantest not my prayer Then even the stars shall weep But the window remained an empty pane For the maiden was fast asleep Refrain Page 138 SONG The Riddle My pretty maid I fain would know What thing it is will breed delight That strives to stand, yet cannot go That feeds the mouth that cannot bite? Refrain: (repeat after each verse) With a humble dum grumble dum humble dum, grumble dum humble dum, grumble dum, hey! It is a pretty pricking thing A pleasing and a standing thing It was the truncheon Mars did use A bedward bit which maidens choose It is a shaft of Cupid's cut 'Twill serve to rove, to prick, to butt There's never a maid, but by her will, Will keep it in her quiver still It is a friar with a bald head A staff to beat a cuckold dead It is a gun which shoots point blank And hits betwixt a woman's flank It has a head much like a mole's And yet it loves to creep in holes The fairest she that e'er took life For love of this became a wife! Page 139 SONG The King Joy, health, love and peace, be all here in this place. By your leave we will sing, concerning our King. Our King is well dressed, in silks of the best, In ribbons so rare, no king can compare. We have traveled many miles, over hedges and stiles, In search of our King, unto you we bring. We have powder and shot to conquer the lot. We have cannon and ball to conquer them all. Old Christmas is past, twelve times to the last We bid you adieu, great joy to the new. ( The following is a quote from my source. ) ( Oak, Ash, and Thorn say this song is sung to a songbird in a cage carted from door to door on Whitsuntide. They speculate that the practice dates back to pre-Christian Britain. ) Page 140 SONG All Things Are Quite Silent All things are quite silent, each mortal at rest While me and my true love lie snug in one nest When a band of cruel ruffians broke into our cave And forced my dear jewel to plow the salt wave I begged for my dear as I would for my life But they won't listen to me although a fond wife Saying the King must have sailors, to the sea he must go And they left me lamenting in sorrow and woe Through green fields and meadows we oft times did walk And with sweet conversations of love we did talk And the birds in the woodlands so sweetly did sing And the young thrushes voices made the meadows to ring Although I'm fourteen I won't be cast down Who knows when my true love will someday return And will make me amend all my trouble and strife And me and my true love might be happy for life Page 141 Traveller SONG Into the hall of Cadric's kin From blind December's writh There walked a woman with a spear Who'd travelled winter's path. She took no wine nor asked for meat, Nor bread or salt took up, But raised a bowl to Cadric's health And pledged with empty cup. Then cast the bowl to shadowed stone Where it shattered on the floor While the North Wind sang in eerie notes And clawed against the door. Then tribesmen leapt up from their seats Where they'd sat in wonder lost. They reached for steel, then met with eyes as pale as silver frost. Their chieftain rose, his face a mask Of age and haunted dreams. He raised his spear into the smoke That swirled 'neath rotting beams. "Why have you come?" he rasped at her "With insult vile and strong?" "I'm but a traveller," she replied, "I shall not stay here long. "Three riddles I'm entrusted with; To you I give their task, For only you can answer them And only I may ask." She stood as stone in the shifting light, As straight as her ashen spear, And Cadric sat back, slow with thought, And waved his men to their beer. "So tell me then," he commanded her, "And give me no tricks or guile." She tossed her hair across her back And smiled a wicked smile. ( continued ) Page 142 Traveller SONG ( continued ) "Who feasted," she asked, "within these halls before your kind crawled in?" Who sang and passed the horn around And made the mead hall's din? "Who were they? And what brought them low? Was it guile or trickery? For I see their blood still stained upon the rushes they kept free. "And lastly -- ah, I see you shake... And does your color fail? Chieftain, where have you seen my face, And why does it turn you pale?" "What gawds are these? "the chieftain snarled, "Your like I've never seen! To speak with words like witch's taunts While you stand there like a queen!" "Get from this hall and seek your fate In the sleet or in the scree! And ask your answers of the wind, For you'll never get such from me!" She smiled her mirthless smile again As the chieftain ranted on, While the winter wind sighed through the walls 'Till all the warmth was gone. "My kin," she smiled, "dwelt in these halls Before your folk were known; Before your throat knew the feel of gold Or your backside knew a throne. "And treachery was their reward, Nobility their sin, When the broken traveller they healed Let his hired armies in. "And often you have seen my face In dreams and nightmares clear, For you faced me over my chieftain's corpse And slew me with his spear!" Cadric's spear sang one dull note As it fell upon the floor, And the lady tipped her head and laughed Against the North Wind's roar. Page 143 SONG I Once Loved a Lad I once loved a lad and I loved him so well I hated all others that spoke of him ill But now he's rewarded me well for my love He's gone to be wed to another As I saw my love go the the church door With bride and bride maidens they made a fine show And I followed them in with my heart full of woe For now he is wed to another As I saw my love a-sit down to dine I sat down beside him and I poured out the wine And I drank to the laddie that should have been mine But now he is wed to another The maids of yon forest they ask it of me How many strawberries grow in the salt sea? And I answer them back with a tear in my eye How many ships sail in the forest? So dig me a grave and dig it so deep And cover it over with flowerets so sweet And I'll turn in for to take a long sleep And maybe in time I'll forget him. Page 144 POEM On A Girdle By: Edmund Waller (1606 - 1687) Written in 1645 That which her slender waist confined, Shall now my joyful temples bind; No monarch but would give his crown, His arms might do what this has done. It was my heaven's extremest sphere, The pale which held that lovely dear; My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, Did all within this circle move! A narrow compass! and yet there Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair! Give me but what this riband bound, Like all the rest the sun goes round! Page 145 Jack Orion SONG By: Mot Jack Orion was as good a fiddler as ever fiddled on a string And he could make young women mad to the tunes his fiddle would sing He could fiddle fish out of the salt water, or water from the marble stone Or the milk out of a maiden's breast though baby she got none. As he rode out with his lady gay right early on a summer's morn They heard three blasts sound loud and shrill as comes from a hunting horn Then from the wood came baying hounds with coats of white and eyes of red Before the King of Fairy's hunt these ghostly hounds they sped The fairy king he next appeared all crowned in his majesty He shot his dart in the lady's heart and away with him rode she Jack Orion rode for a day and night until he came to the fairy ring It's there he took his fiddle out and set the bow to string First he fiddled the notes of joy and next he fiddled the notes of pain He fiddled then a fairy reel his lady for to gain The fairies danced in a circle mad, they could not stop while the fiddle played The fairy king cried, "What will you take to leave our forest glade?" "Oh, give to me my lady gay that thou didst steal so late from me It's then my fiddle shall cease to play and I'll be gone from thee." First he fiddled the notes of joy and next he fiddled the notes of pain They gave to him his lady gay, crying, "Ne'er return again!" Jack Orion was as good a fiddler as ever fiddled on a string And he could make young women mad to the tunes his fiddle would sing He could fiddle fish out of the salt water, or water from the marble stone Or the milk out of a maiden's breast though baby she got none. Page 146 The Herald's Complaint SONG By: 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. Page 147 FILK The Twelve Days of Academy By: Chrystal Ariana MacRuari Tune: Twelve Days of Christmas On the first day of Academy My teacher taught to me How to hold a rapier prop-er-ly. 2nd day To parry 3rd day Three repostes. 4th day Four point controls. 5th day Five florentines. 6th day Six to beats. 7th day Seven stop thrusts. 8th day Eight coupes. 9th day How to use nine daggers. 10th day How to use ten bucklers. 11th day Eleven disengages. 12th day Twelve killing blows. Page 148 FILK Isn't Fighting Loverly? Words: Stephen of Durham and Brendan O'Corraide All I want is a sword to wield, Coat of mail and a stout round shield. Someone to face upon the field, Oh, isn't fighting loverly? Nice round mace or a Viking axe, Balanced nicely for quick attacks. With weight enough to give hard whacks, Oh, isn't fighting loverly? Swinging combination head-and-leg, or mollinet, I would never have to yield, They'd never get past my shield. Someone's head ringing from a blow, Helm caved in 'cause he blocked too slow, Ask me to fight and I won't say no, Oh, isn't fighting loverly? Loverly, loverly, loverly, Isn't fighting loverly? Page 149 FILK Isn't Swashing Loverly? Words: Brendan O'Corraide with help from Marietta All I want is a feathered hat, High topped boots; Can you picture that? A lace trimmed shirt is where it's at, Oh, isn't swashing loverly? Cloak and rapier for me to wield, Duelling grandly upon the field. To heck with all this sword and shield, Oh, isn't swashing loverly? Who needs all of those nasty bruises and broken bones? Rapiers have more style and grace Than any old axe or mace. Cavaliers joining in the fray, That's the game I like to play, 'Cause swinging sticks is tres outre, Isn't swashing loverly? Loverly, loverly, loverly, Isn't swashing loverly? Page 150 FILK My Favorite Things Heaters and broadswords, targets and maces, Winces of pain on my enemies' faces. Ladies whose praises a noble bard sings, These are a few of my favorite things. Winning in melees, avoiding a fair fight, Revels that last until it's morning's first light. Cutting down nobles and princes and Kings. These are a few of my favorite things. Watching the foe-men as they tumble down, Fighting for money or winning the crown, Stripping the fallen of their broken wings, These are a few of my favorite things. When the mail breaks, When the helm rings, When I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things, And then I don't feel so bad. Page 151 FILK A Grazing Mace By: The Bedlam Boys Ceiladn and Wenches' Society Tune: Amazing Grace CHORUS |-------------------------------------------| | A grazing mace, how sweet the sound. | | That felled my foe for me. | | I bashed his head, he struck the ground, | | And thus came victory. | |-------------------------------------------| 'Twas my mace that taught my foes to fear My mace my fears relieved How precious did my mace appear When I my mace received. Through many tourneys, wars, and fairs I have already come; My mace hath brought me safe thus far, My mace will bring me home. How sweet the fame of knighthood sounds In all good fighters' ears; It soothes their bruises, heals their wounds, It's just as good as peers. Must Pookie bear his spurs alone And there be none for me? Though there be spurs for everyone They're far across the sea. Note from my source. Pooky is the nickname of the first Caidan knight to be knighted in Hawaii. Since the King of Caid didn't get out to Hawaii very often, it was very hard to become a knight in the Barony of Western Seas. Spurs are a symbol of knighthood. Page 152 FILK The Catapult Song Tune: Jesus Loves the Little Children By: Heinrich Palantin Sue of the Silver Horn Zoltan Kovacs Cristobal degli Gilicine (It's Kind of short for so many authors!) They thought it was a joke, When my catapult it broke, And they said it would not fire beyond the wall. So the Captain came to look, And I pulled the trigger hook, And my catapult, it caught him in the jaw. Flip, flip, flip, my Captain's flying, High up o'er the Norman camp. And he landed with a thump, And he crumpled in a lump With his head between his legs upon a stump. Yipee-yea, my catapult's working, Yipee-yea, we'll have a ball. We'll load it up again With another Cap-i-tain And we'll fire the bloody bastard o'er the wall! Page 153 FILK Odin Loves The Little Vikings 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. Page 154 FILK Norwegian Viking Tune: Yankee Doodle Dandy I'm a good Norwegian Viking. I drink mead with every meal. A real live nephew of my Uncle Thor, Ready to rape, burn, and steal. I've got a good Norwegian Sweetheart, She's my Norwegian pride and joy. All good Vikings go to London, Just to steal the ponies. Keep your eyes on those horny-hatted boys. Page 155 FILK Long Distance Squire Tune: Cat's in the Cradle By: Galen of Bristol and Genvieve McCullum du Caen 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." CHORUS 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?" CHORUS 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. CHORUS Page 156 SONG Mick McGuire Written by the Clancy Bros. Oh, my name is Mick McGuire, And I'll quickly tell to you, Of the young girl I admired, called Katy Donohugh, She was fair and fat and forty And believe me when I say, that whenever I came into the door, you could hear her mother say, (-- this is the chorus --) "Johnny get up from the fire, get up, and give the man a seat, Can't you see it's Mr. McGuire and he's courtin' your sister Kate. Ah you know very well he owns the farm a wee bit out of the town, Ah now get up outta that you impudent brat and let Mr. McGuire sit down, Diddley dodle dodle dodle, diddley dodle dodle do. Diddley dodle dodle dodle, diddley dodle dodle do. Ah you know very well he owns the farm a wee bit out of the town, Ah now get up outta that you impudent brat and let Mr. McGuire sit down. Now the first time that I met her was at the dance at Tirnagie, And I very plainly asked her if she'd dance a step with me, Then I asked if I could see her home, if I be goin' her way, Now whenever I come into the door you can hear her mother say. CHORUS Ah, but now that we are married sure her mother's changed her mind, Just because I've spent the legacy me father left behind, She hasn't got the decency to bid me time of day, And whenever I come into the door you can hear her mother say. "Johnny come up to the fire come up, you're sitting in the draft, Can't you see it's old McGuire, and he drives me nearly daft, I don't know what gets into him, he's always on the tear, So, just sit where you are and never you dare give ole McGuire the chair. Diddley dodle ..... Mary Mac Page 157 SONG Well, there's a little girl, And her name is Mary Mac. Now, make no mistake, She's the one I'm gonna track. A lot of other fellows, They'd be gettin' off their backs, But I'm thinking that they'ld Have to get up early. CHORUS |---------------------------------------| | Mary Mac's father's | | Makin' Mary Mac marry me. | | My father's makin' me | | Marry Mary Mac. | | I'm goin' to marry Mary, | | for me Mary to take care of me, | | We'll all be feelin' merry | | When I marry Mary Mac. | | A Rum Dum Deedle Dum | | Deedle Dum Day. | |---------------------------------------| Now, this little lass, She's got a lot of class, She's got a lot of brass, And her father thinks me gassed. I'd be a silly ass, For to let the matter pass, For her father thinks She does me rather fairly. CHORUS Now, Mary and her mother Go an awful lot together, In fact you hardly ever, See the one without the other. And people often wonder If it's Mary or her mother, When they see us out together When we're courtin'. CHORUS Well, The wedding's on a Wednesday, And everything's arranged, And soon her name she'll change to mine, Unless her mind be changed. I'm makin' the arrangements, And damned near deranged, For marriage is an awful undertakin'. CHORUS Well, it's sure to be a grand affair, Grander than the fair. There's goin' to be a coach and pair, For every couple there. We'll dine upon the finest, And I'm sure to get my share, And if I don't then I'll be Very much mistaken. CHORUS Page 158 SONG Maid on the Shore There once was a maiden, she lived all alone. She lived all alone on the shore, oh. And naught she could find, to comfort her mind, But to roam all alone on the shore, shore, shore, But to roam all alone on the shore. 'Twas of a young captain who sailed the salt seas, Let the wind blow high, blow low. I will die, I will die, the young captain did cry, If I don't have that maid on the shore, shore, shore. If I don't have that maid on the shore. Well, I have lots of silver, I have lots of gold, I have lots of costly wear, Oh, I'll divide, I'll divide, with my jolly ships crew, If you'll row me that maid from the shore, shore, shore. If you'll row me that maid from the shore. After much persuasion they brought her aboard, Let the wind blow high, blow low. They placed her away in his cabin, below. Here's a due to all sorrow and care, care, care. Here's a due to all sorrow and care. They placed her away in his cabin, below. Let the wind blow high, blow low. She's pretty and neat, she's sweet and complete. She sang captain and sailors to sleep, sleep, sleep. She sang captain and sailors to sleep. Then she robbed them of silver, she robbed them of gold, She robbed them of costly wear, oh, Then took his broadsword instead of an oar, And paddled her way to the shore, shore, shore. And paddled her way to the shore. Well, me men must be crazy, me men must be mad, Me men must be deep in despair, oh, for to let you away from my cabin so gay, And to paddle your way to the shore, shore, shore. And to paddle your way to the shore. Well your men were not crazy, your men were not mad. Your men were not deep in despair, oh, I deluded your sailors, as well as yourself. I'm a maid once again on the shore, shore, shore. I'm a maid once again on the shore. There once was a maiden, she lived all alone. She lived all alone on the shore, oh. And naught she could find, to comfort her mind, But to roam all alone on the shore, shore, shore, But to roam all alone on the shore. Page 159 POEM BETH By Geoffrey McAnder of Emerald Keep In Scotland's green hills, there lived a young lass. Beth MacDougal whose hand I had asked, With her father's permission my bride she'll be, And after our wedding, we'll sail across sea. It is after the wedding, we're travelling on, Heading for sea, for we're sailing for Gaul. And on the path we met an old lass, Who warned us to never this way go pass. For death and destruction will surely you face, And your bonnie young bride will be wearing black lace. The ship you'll be sailing will sink in a storm. Be wary the sea, for you are forewarned. I scoffed at this notion, this oracle of death, For when she is with me, nothing will harm my Beth. So onward we traveled, onward to sea, To Gaul we go, my Beth and me. We soon set sail, the sky crystal clear, And three days out, we'd nothing to fear. On the fourth day, they sighted land, and overjoyed were we, Yet at that moment the wind died down, stranding us on the sea. Dark clouds gathered, and rain poured down. We lashed ourselves to mast, so not to fall overboard and drown. Lightning flashed, winds did roar, all while our ship was tossed. With the last crashing wave I looked with horror, as the mast with my Beth was lost. With uncanny strength I burst my hands free. No longer held by bonds, I leapt for the sea. The storm was in its full strength now, holding nothing back, And with one brilliant flash, my world went black. The next thing remembered, I laid upon sand. One other person asleep, lay next to me on this land. I finally felt strength enough to build a fire, And when the sailor awoke we talked, for knowledge was my desire. Page 160 BETH (continued) POEM By Geoffrey McAnder of Emerald Keep Quoth I, "Tell me, what happened to all when my world went black? Did the captain find my Beth, and to the mainland for help, turn back?" "Nay," quoth he, with a woeful, mournful glance, "Lightning struck the ship, as a knight with his lance," "With such force did it strike, all were set back. No one stirred, for their senses they lacked. And the majestic ship was set afire, I fear all aboard met their fate; on that floating funeral pyre." "This I watched sir, from a distance away, And a voice I heard, that was deathly afraid. A figure, a woman, who was half tied to mast. I swam toward her, to rescue, but she slipped from my grasp." "I fear we are alone sir, and I mourn the loss of your wife, As much as I mourn my friends, but we must continue with life." We had wandered three days, searching for a sign, When finally we stumbled upon a village, which rested us for the night. We had indeed landed in Gaul, and stayed two more weeks. Then left for dear sweet Scotland for my home and comfort I did seek. The comfort I sought, though I never have found. And to other lands I now abound. It has been three and twenty years since life's greatest lost, And no other woman's love have I ever crossed. I lead a lonely existence; for to me love is death. When the sea, from mortal eyes did hide my Beth. In the green hills of Scotland, I long for my Beth. Very fastly I'm falling into despair's great depths. My body is failing and death soon awaits me. My sadness, turning to joy, for with Beth I'll soon be. The Ash Grove Page 161 SONG Welsh Folk Song ( One of several versions ) Down yonder green valley where streamlets meander, When twilight is fading I pensively rove, Or at the bright noontide in solitude wander Amid the dark shades of the lonely ash grove. 'Tis there where the blackbird is cheerfully singing Each warbler enchants with his note from the tree Ah, then little think I of sorrow or sadness The ash grove enchanting, spells beauty for me. The ash grove, how graceful, how plainly 'tis speaking The harp through it playing has language for me Whenever the light through it's branches is breaking A host of kind faces is gazing on me; The friends of my childhood again are before me Each step wakes a memory as freely I roam; With soft whispers laden it's leaves rustle o'er me, The ash grove, the ash grove, alone is my home. My laughter is over, my step loses lightness, Old countryside measures fall soft on my ear. Whenever I think on the past and it's brightness, The dear ones I mourn for again gather here. From out of the shadows their loving looks greet me. And wistfully searching the leafy green dome, I find other faces, fond, bending to greet me. The ash grove, the ash grove, alone is my home. Page 162 POEM The Juggler and the Baron's Daughter There once did live a rich Baron's daughter And she would have no man who for love had sought her So nice she was. And she would have no man who was made of bone and meat But if he had a mouth of gold to kiss her on the seat How grand she was. And so the Jolly Juggler learnt while lying on the heath And at this pretty lady's words forsooth, he grit his teeth How cross he was! He juggled him a mighty steed out of a horse's bone A saddle and a bridle too and sat himself thereon So sly he was. He pricked and pranced that mighty steed before the lady's gate She swore he was an angel Come there for her sake A dunce she was. He pricked and pranced that mighty steed before the lady's bower She swore he was an angel Come from heaven's tower A prancer he was. (continued) Page 163 The Juggler and the Baron's Daughter POEM (continued) Then four and twenty knights led him through the hall Meanwhile as many squires led his horse to stall and bade him eat. The squires did give him oats and the squires did give him hay but he was a mean one and turned his head away He would not eat. Then day began to pass and night began to come And up to her bed was brought This gentle wo-man The juggler too. Then night began to pass and day began to spring And all the birds around the bower began at once to sing The Coo-Coo too. "Where are you, my perty maids that you come not me to For the windows of the bower I pray that you undo That I may see. "For I have here inside my arms A Duke, or elst an Earl." But when she looked upon the man he was a blear-eyed churl Alas! cried she. She bore the juggler up a hill and meant to hang him high But he juggled himself into a meal poke and dust fell in her eye Beguiled she was! Christ and our lady And sweet Saint John To every other haughty maid Send such another one Amen. Page 164 A Juggler's Life POEM By: Stephen of the Grove A juggler's life is all that I know, From town to town, from show to show. Three clubs in my hands, I begin to throw, When a lady of beauty appears. She must have come my show for to see, And this beautiful lady is looking at me. I wish I could juggle more clubs than three. For the lady I'd like to impress. The smile that she gives me makes my head spin. I toss and I grab, but gravity wins. I don't really mind when a club hits my chin. For the lady has smiled upon me. I wish so to impress, but I only fumble. Many drops I do make, and my lines I just mumble. My props all around me lie in a jumble. And the crowd quickly wanders away. The lady then offers a drink of honey wine, It's the best that I've had in such a long time. We talk, and we laugh, and our hands intertwine, And I know that I've found a new friend. My clumsiness gone, I start a new show. My hands are now nimble, and the crowd starts to grow. I toss the balls quickly, first high, and then low. And nary a drop do I make. But a life such as mine is no life for this lady. She's used to silk gowns, and servants, and pastries. My lips know that more than her wine is quite tasty. And I find it quite hard to leave. But a juggler's life is all that I know, From town to town, from show to show. But as oft as I can, to her town I go. Where my beautiful lady awaits me. Page 165 SONG Steppes Traveling Song By: Annes Clotilde Von Babenburg CHORUS - repeat after each verse |-----------------------------------------| | Traveling down the road so weary- | | On my way to tourney-home, | | There I'll meet my friends so cheery- | | There I'll need no longer roam. | |-----------------------------------------| For I heard the message across the land Almost 'twas like a sor'cers demand, For great was the need of a fighter's sword, "Come everyone to Steppes Warlord!" And the people came from miles around- Emptying villages, emptying towns, To see the crest fight on the field of glory- To hear the fair maidens sing of their sweet story. And the smell of roast meats did flavor the air- The populance had neither worry nor care- Drinking sweet mead from the Baron's own horde- And glad that they came to Steppes Warlord! Vast were the wares that the merchant's had sold. Inmann is Warlord, he's brave and he's bold. The moon in the skies showed a bright pearly light, And laughter and singing went on through the night! Now the tourney has ended, and I'm on my way- Back home to Stargate, but let me just say- How it saddened my heart when the last glass was poured- I'm glad that I journeyed to Steppes Warlord!! Norman and Saxon Page 166 SONG "My son,' said the Norman Baron, "I am dying, and you will be heir To all the broad acres in England That William gave me for my share When we conquered the Saxon at Hastings, And a nice little handful it is. But before you go over to rule it I want you to understand this: "The Saxon is not like us Normans. His manners are not so polite. But he never means anything serious 'Till he talks about justice and right. When he stands like an ox in the furrow With his sullen eyes set on your own, And grumbles, 'This isn't fair dealing,' My son, leave the Saxon alone. "You can horsewhip your Gascony archers, Or torture your Picardy spears; But don't try that game on the Saxon; You'll have the whole brood round your ears. From the richest old Thane in the county To the poorest chained serf in the field, They'll be at you and on you like hornets, And, if you are wise, you will yield. "But first you must master their language, their dialect proverbs and songs. Don't trust any clerk to interpret When they come with the tale of their wrongs. Let them know that you know what they're saying; Let them feel that you know what to say. Yes, even when you want to go hunting, Hear 'em out if it takes you all day. "They'll drink every hour of the daylight And poach every hour of the dark. It's sport, not the rabbits, they're after. (We've plenty of game in the park). Don't hang them or cut off their fingers. That's wasteful as well as unkind, For a hard-bitten, South-country poacher makes the best man-at-arms you can find. "Appear with your wife and the children At their weddings and funerals and feasts. Be polite but not friendly to Bishops; Be good to all poor parish priests. Say 'We', 'Us' and 'Ours' when you're talking, Instead of 'you fellows' and 'I'. Don't ride over seeds; keep your temper; And never you tell 'em a lie" Page 167 SONG Don Galen Nicolli By: Valeria Richila Navarro Tune: Savior of the Nations (Lutheran hymnal) I sing of Don Nicolli He who makes the ladies swoon How his glory I beheld Shining as the sun at noon. Refrain: repeat after each verse |--------------------------------------| | Fair maids of Ansteorra know | | All ladies of the realm do seek | | On him their favors to bestow | | Don Galen for their own to keep. | |--------------------------------------| There he goes, the one they seek Straight of limb and countenance fair Many heartfelt sighs are heard For dark good looks beyond compare. Blinding sunlight from his blade He fights foes with wilful guile Flashing foil brings their demise Don Galen wins again in style. So he fought Don after Don Using lightning speed and grace He became the Queens's champion Don Galen takes his rightful place. Page 168 SONG The Bright Ebon Star By: Sieglinde Syr (Printed, including music, in the Sept. XXIV Black Star.) A Thunder is rising, I can hear it afar. From the plains to the desert In the lands of the Star; 'Neath the storm it is bringing Foreign foes shall not stand, As the host Ansteorran waits the Royal Command. CHORUS (Repeat after each verse) |-------------------------------------------------| | Follow the standard of Sable and Gold, | | Victory or death in glory! | | Follow, brave brothers, the long battle road; | | Follow the Bright Ebon Star. | |-------------------------------------------------| Like the Dark Star's thunder Let us rise, let us rise, Let our swords edges blazon Ansteorra's fame! Let us march on, my brothers, Toward the prize, toward the prize, 'Till the sky glows golden in the Star's crimson flame! When a challenge is given, Men of heart raise their hands And the weapons of honor In defence of their lands, To being glory in battle To the homes whence they came: So do we, Ansteorra, for our homeland's fair name. Now raised are the banners Seen long in the past; Graying veterans, young warriors, join your forces at last. With your blades newly sharpened And your bright armor's gleam - Come forth for Ansteorra To the side of your King! Page 169 SONG Barnacle Bill the Sailor women: Who's that knocking at my door? Who's that knocking at my door? Who's that knocking at my door? Said the fine young maiden men: Open the door you fucking whore, said Barnacle Bill the Sailor. Open the door you fucking whore, said Barnacle Bill the Sailor. women: Will you take me to the dance? Will you take me to the dance? Will you take me to the dance? Said the fine young maiden. men: Screw the dance and drop your pants, said B.B. the S. (twice) Screw the dance and drop your pants, said B.B. the S. (twice) women: What if my parents should come home? (three times) Said the fine young maiden. men: I'll kill your Pa and fuck your Ma, said B.B. the S. (twice) women: What if we should have a girl? (three times) Said the fine young maiden. men: I'll dig a ditch and bury the bitch, said B.B. the S. (twice) women: What if we should have a boy? (three times) Said the fine young maiden. men: I'll take him to sea, so he can fuck like me, said Barnacle Bill the Sailor I'll take him to sea, so he can fuck like me, said Barnacle Bill the Sailor Page 170 SONG Roll Me Over Chorus : Repeat after each verse. |---------------------------------------------| | Roll me over, in the clover, | | Roll me over, lay me down, and do it again. | |---------------------------------------------| Oh, this is number one, We're going to have some fun. Roll me over, lay me down, and do it again. Oh, this is number two, His hand is on my shoe. Roll me over, lay me down, and do it again. Oh, this is number three, His hand is on my knee. Roll me over, lay me down, and do it again. Oh, this is number four, We're rolling on the floor. Roll me over, lay me down, and do it again. Oh, this is number five, His hand is on my thigh. Roll me over, lay me down, and do it again. Oh, this is number six, He's teaching me some tricks. Oh, this is number seven, I think that I'm in heaven. Oh, this is number eight, It's really feeling great. Oh, this is number nine, It's really getting fine. Oh, this is number ten, We're going to start again. Page 171 FILK GrinSleeves Tune: (This falls in the "If you have to ask..." catagory.) By: Telbyrne Morningstar Alas, my love, you've done me dirt, You've sewn green sleeves to my purple shirt. And then you did the worst of all... You made me go out and wear it. CHORUS: (repeat after each verse) Oh, what a dismal fate, To be seen at events in this dismal shape. Oh, how I wish I could be late, Say, seven days after it's over. Alas, my love, you've done me wrong, You've made my tunic much too long. You made it seven feet ten, or more... It drags across the floor. Alas, my love, I'm born to lose. You've tied pink bows to my orange shoes, And done my hair in wave and curl... My mother now thinks I'm a girl. Alas, my love, we'll have to leave. Someone just insulted my beautiful sleeve, And questioned my taste in every way; By God, he said I must be gay. Page 172 FILK Gory Tune: Loverly (From "My Fair Lady") By: Nerak la Tisserande All I want is a war somewhere Far away from a mundane care, With all of the knights there, Oh, wouldn't it be gory! Lots of helmets for me to cleave, Lots of widows to cry and grieve; I'm itching now to leave. Oh, wouldn't it be gory! Oh, so gory, swinging swords from left to right. After the battle we can revel through the night! Bashing mace into someone's head. Gunch him good until he's dead. Oh, see the creek run red. Oh, wouldn't it be goryious? Ballad of the Silver Helms Tune: Green Beret By: Nerak la Tisserande Fighting knights here to try Fearless men to challenge and die. Men who mean just what they say, The brave men of the SCA. CHORUS In silver helms with colored crests, These are knights, Ansteorra's best. And all the squires hope someday To be a knight of the SCA. Trained to fight with sword in hand, And on their honor they will stand. Sworn to defend the one who may Wear a crown of the SCA. Trained in court and skilled in game Are the fighters who've won fame. But it takes five peers to say They're worthy of K.SCA. Back at home a lady waits. Has her lord met his fate? But here he comes in belt of white Her lord is now a knight. Put a silver helm on my son's head. Teach him to fight or strike him dead. He'll be a knight, I know, some day, So bring him up in the SCA. Page 174 SONG Ansteorra Anthem Tune: Fin Landia By: Kubric Spelldragon Dear land we love, All hail Ansteorra. Thy honor fields reflect fond memories. We pledge to thee our faith and true devotion, And pray that we bring honor to thee. Thy revel halls shall ever sing thy glory, Dear Ansteorra, land that we love. Page 175 SONG For This My Home By: Simonn of Amber Isle Carry me home upon my shield. Bear me high o'er road and field. Let me know the touch of the cleansing wind In this my home. In this my home. If loved ones ask you how I fell Within the fray, I charge you well, Tell them I fought until the end For this my home. For this my home. Place my sword hilt within my hand. Though it is broken, understand. Like me, it gave all it could give For this my home. For this my home. And when you carry me through the square Bear me proudly, don't despair! I gave my life that you could live In this my home. In this my home. When, at last, you bury me, I want no tears, no eulogy! Just let me rest deep in the earth Of this my home. Of this my home. Note: When I recieved this, the submission listed Green Beret as the tune. I would never perform it to that tune, but you might wish to make one up. I did. Page 176 FILK Ansteorra! Tune: Oklahoma By: Nerak la Tisserande Ansteorra! Where Mongols sweep down from the plain, And the Viking fleet lies off the beach, And the sun comes right behind the rain. Ansteorra! Where my fair lady will cry, And cheer for me in the melee, While the vultures circle in the sky. You know we will fight for our land, If the Middle should get out of hand; And when we cry "To the death!" And "Let the Middle die!" We're only saying, "You're going far Ansteorra!" Ansteorra, Black Star! Page 177 God Rest Ye, Frantic Autocrat FILK Tune: God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen By : Tivar Moondragon God rest ye, frantic autocrat, Let nothing you dismay. Remember that your great event Is still a month away. Don't panic yet, there's lots of time And don't get swept away: CHORUS: And sing ye in chorus, "Never again, never again." And sing ye in chorus, "Never again!" God rest ye, frantic autocrat, Let nothing you dismay. Remember that your great event Is still two weeks away. The site is grand, tho' if it rains It just might wash away: God rest ye, frantic autocrat, Let nothing you dismay. Remember that your great event Is still a week away. The music's fine if only they Remember how to play: God rest ye, frantic autocrat, Let nothing you dismay. Remember that your great event Is still three days away. The feast is planned, the food's been bought, Tho' God know's how you'll pay: God rest ye, frantic autocrat, Let nothing you dismay. Despite the fact your great event Is scheduled for today. The tourney's grand, the rain won't last For very long, they say: God rest ye, frantic autocrat, Let nothing you dismay. Despite the fact that everything Is going wrong today. The King and Queen came unannounced, And God knows who else may: And sing ye in chorus, "Never again, never again." And sing ye in chorus, "Never again!" Men of Thornwell (or Ballad of the Men of Thornwell) Page 178 Tune: The Ballad of the Trades SONG By : Sulezka von Pferdenthal Here's to the brave men of Thornwell, Well known for their prowess in fights. But it's only the ladies who know you best When time comes to put out the lights. Here's Orm, a lusty strong fellow, Makes many men tremble with fear. But his knees start to shake and he's heard to meow When a purring young kitten comes near. And Turpin, our scholarly Turpin, His prowess at chess it is great. He knows all the gambits for taking a piece; Three moves and he's ready to mate. Oh, Ranyart, he's famed as a wencher. You've heard of his name far and wide. And just when you think that your lady's alone You'll find Ranyart there by her side. And Gylean's a mighty strong archer. His arrow's shot straight to the mark. And his aim's just as true, with a lass in his arms, When he's loosing his shaft in the dark. And Matthew, that red-haired young devil, He's thought to be quiet and staid. But he's rowdy enough to be raising some hell When he's seeking the charms of a maid. Stephen, he's known as a poet, His ballads are sometimes risque. But there's many a maiden for miles hereabout Who'll swear he excells at the lay. Here's to young Raimond the Moon-Bear, Though some think him naught but the Foole. But he's clever enough with a wench in his arms, And he knows French they don't teach in school. Here's to Sir Jan called the Eagle. Unhorsing him many have tried. But his lance is still stout and there's many a lass Who'll go with Sir Jan for a ride. And Tanasan, Lord of House Thornwell, He's proud and he conquers at will. If it's out on the field, or in some lady's bed He handles his weapon with skill. So, here's to the brave men of Thornwell, Be you scholars or fighters or lords. But it's only the ladies who know you the best, For your best thrusts aren't made with your swords. Page 179 SONG Sumer is A-Cumin' In 13th century This is the oldest known canon in the English language. (A canon is also called a round.) It was written for six voices, but will work with other numbers. This is a modernized version. The changes are necessary due to the differences in Old English, and English we can understand. I have seen at least two different translations. This one came from "Early Music for Three String Dulcimer", Mel Bay Publications. I would print the original words also, but there are several letters which are no longer used, and so are not on the keyboard. Sumer is a-cumin in, loudly sing cuckoo; Groweth seed and bloweth mead and springeth wood a-new. Sing cuckoo! Ewe a-bleateth after lamb, low'th after calf the cow, Bulloc starteth, buck a-verteth, merry sing cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo; O' well sing'st thou cuckoo! O cease thee never now! Plumber is icumen in; (A filk to the above piece.) By: A.Y. Campbell (1885-1958) Plumber is icumen in; Bludie big tu-du. Bloweth lampe, and showeth dampe, And dripth the wud thru. Bludie hel, boo-hoo! Thawth drain, and runneth bath; Saw sawth, and scruth scru; Bull-kuk squirteth, leake spurteth; Wurry springeth up anew, Boo-hoo, boo-hoo. Tom Pugh, Tom Pugh, well plumbes thu, Tom Pugh; Better job I naver nu. Therefore will I cease boo-hoo, Woorie not, but cry pooh-pooh, Murie sing pooh-pooh, pooh-pooh, Pooh-pooh! Page 180 POEM Misc. Poems Theory, by Dorothy Parker Into love and out again, Thus I went and thus I go. Spare your voice, and hold your pen: Well and bitterly I know All the songs were ever sung, All the words were ever said; Could it be, when I was young, Someone dropped me on my head? Reasons to Drink If all be true that I do think, There be Five Reasons why one should Drink Good friends, good wine, or being dry, Or lest we should be by-and-by, Or any other reason why. Page 181 SONG Burning Times/Chant By: Charles Murphy In the cool of the evening, they used to gather, 'neath stars in the meadow, circled near an old oak tree. At the times appointed by the seasons of the Earth, and the phases of the moon. In the center of them stood a woman, equal with the others, and respected for her worth. One of the many we call the Witches, the teachers and the keepers of the wisdom of the Earth The people grew through the knowledge she gave them, herbs to heal their bodies, spells to make their spirits whole. Hear them chanting healing incantations, calling forth the Wise Ones, celebrating in dance and song (chant, 3 times) Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali, Inanna There were those who came to power through domination, and they bonded in the worship of a dead man on a cross. They sought control of the common people by demanding allegiance to the church of Rome. And the Pope declared the Inquisition, it was a war against the women whose power they feared. In this Holocaust against the nature peoples, 9 million European women died. And the tales are told of those who, by the hundreds, holding together, chose their deaths in the sea. Chanting the praises of the Mother Goddess, a refusal of betrayal, women were dying to be free. (chant, 3 times, then continues behind the rest of the song) Now the Earth is a witch, and the men still burn her! Stripping her down with mining and the poisons of their wars. While to us the Earth is a healer, a teacher, a mother. She's the weaver of the web of life that keeps us all alive. She gives us the vision to see through the chaos. She gives us the courage, it is our will to survive! (chant starts again, and builds as power builds) Page 182 Step it out Mary SONG Traditional Irish In the village of Killdorrie, there's a maiden young and fair, for her eyes they shine like diamonds, she had long and golden hair. When the country man came riding, he came to the father's gate, mounted on a milk white stallion, he came at the stroke of eight. (Chorus) Step it out Mary, my fine daughter. Step it out Mary, if ye can. Step it out Mary, my fine daughter. Show yer legs to the country man. Show yer legs to the country man. I have come to court yer daughter. Mary of the golden hair. I have wealth and I have money, I have goods beyond compare. I will buy her silks and satins, and a gold ring for her hand, I will build for her a mansion, she'll have servants to command. (Chorus) But kind sir I love a soldier, I have pledged to him my hand, I don't want yer house nor money, I don't want yer ring nor lands. Mary's father spoke up sharply, you'll do as you are told, you'll be married on the Sunday, you'll wear the ring of gold. (Chorus) In the village of Killdorrie, there's a deep stream running by, they found Mary there at midnight, she drowned with her soldier boy. In the cottage there is music, you can hear the father say, step it out Mary my fine daughter, Sunday is your wedding day. (Chorus) From the collection Festival of Irish Folk Music, Chyme Music Ltd. (Arr. Sean McCarthy) Segway Music Ltd. Page 183 SONG Red Haired Mary Traditional Ah, I was goin' to the fair at Dingle, One fine mornin' last July. When goin' down the road before me, a red haired girl I chanced to spy. Well I stepped up to her, says I, "Young lady, now me donkey he will carry two". She looked at me, her eyes a-twinkle, and her cheeks they were a rosie hue. "Well, thank ye kindly, sir," she answered, then she tossed her bright red hair. "Well seeing as how ye've got yer donkey, I'll ride with you to the Dingle fair". Ah, but when we reached the fair in Dingle, I took her hand for to say goodbye, and a tinker man moved up close beside me, and he hit me right in my left eye. (Chorus) Keep yer hands off red haried Mary! Her and I are to be wed. We're seeing the priest this very morning, and tonight we'll lie in the marriage bed. Ah, now I was feelin' kinda peevish, an me poor old eye felt sad & sore. So I tapped him gently, with me hobnails, and he threw me through Tim Murphy's door. (Chorus) Then a policeman came around the corner, told me I had broke the law. but the donkey kicked him, in the ankle, and he fell down and smashed his jaw. (Chorus) But the red haired girl, she kept on smiling, "Ah, young man, I'll come with you," she said. "We'll forget the priest this very morning, and tonight we'll sleep in Murphy's shed"! (Chorus) From the collection Festival of Irish Folk Music, Chyme Music Ltd. (Arr. Sean McCarthy) Segway Music Ltd. Page 184 SONG Do you love an Apple? Traditional Do you love an apple? Do you love a pear? Do you love the laddie with curly brown hair? Oh yes, I love him. I cannot deny him. I've got to be with him wherever he goes. Before I got married I wore a black shawl, but since I got married I wear none at all. CHORUS |------------------------------------------------| | Ah, but still, I love him, I can't deny him. | | I've got to be with him wherever he goes. | |------------------------------------------------| He stood at the corner, a pipe in his mouth. Two hands in his pockets, he whistled me out. (Chorus) He works at the pier for nine bob a week. Come saturday night he comes a-rollin' home drunk. (Chorus) Before I got married I'd sport and I'd play, but now the cradle it gets in the way (Chorus) Do you love an apple? Do you love a pear? Do you love the laddie with curly brown hair? Oh yes, I love him. I cannot deny him. I'll be with him wherever he goes. Oh yes, I love him. I cannot deny him. I've got to be with him wherever he goes. Page 185 SONG Johnny of Brady's Lea Traditional Oh Johnny rose on a May morning, called for water to wash his hands, says "Bring to me my two grey dogs, lay bound in iron bands." When Johnny's mother she heard of this, she wrung her hands full sore, says "Johnny for your venison, to the green woods do not go." "For there are seven foresters in Esselmun, and this ye know full well, for one small drop of your heart's blood, they would ride through the gates of hell." "Oh there's many men are my friend, Mother, though many more are my foe. But betide me well or betide me ill, a-hunting I will go." So Johhny has taken his good bent bow, his arrows one by one, and he's away to Monnymusk(sp?) for to bring the dun deer down. Oh Johnny shot and the dun deer leapt, he's wounded her in the side, and between the water and the woods, the two dogs laid her pride. And they ate so much of the venison, they drank so much of the blood, that Johnny and his two grey dogs fell asleep as if they had been dead. And by there came a sly old man, a sly old man was he. And he's away away to Esselmun for to tell on young Johnny. (continued) Page 186 Johnny of Brady's Lea SONG (continued) "As I came in by Monnymusk and down among yon skrogs(?), it's there I spied the bonniest youth lying sleeping between two dogs." "And the buttons that were on his coat, were of the gold so good. And the two grey dogs that he lay between, their mouths they were died with blood." Then up and spoke the first forester, he was headsman over them all. "Can this be Johnny of Brady's Lea? Unto him we will draw." And the very first shot that the forester's fired it wounded him in the thigh, and the very next shot that the foresters fired, his heart's blood blinded his eye. Then up woke Johnny from out of his sleep, an angry man was he. He said "The wildest wolf in all this wood would not of done so by me. And he's leaned his back against an Oak, his foot against a stone, and he has fired on the seven foresters. He's killed them all but one. And he's broken seven of this man's ribs, his arm and his collarbone. And he has set him onto his horse to bring the tidings home. Johnny's good bent bow is broke, and his two grey dogs are slain, and his body lies in Monnymusk, and his hunting days are done. From Planxty The Woman I Loved So Well : 1980 Tara Records. Page 187 SONG Serpent's Prow Also called The Steersman's Song Serpent's prow on the Afric coast. Doom on the Moorish town. And this is the song that the steersman sang, As the dragon ship swept down. I followed Asgrimm Snorri's son Around the world and halfway back. And 'scaped the hate of Galdferhun Who sank our ship off Skagerack. I lent my sword to Harothgard then, His eyes were ice, his heart was hard. He fell with half his weapon men To our own kin at Nikligard. And then for many a weary moon I labored at the galley's oar. Where men grow maddened by the tune Of oarlocks clacking evermore. But I survived the reeking rack The toil, the whip that burned and gashed The spiteful Greeks that scarred our backs And trembled even while they lashed. They sold me on an Eastern block. In silver coin my price was paid. They girt me with a chain and lock. I laughed and they were sore afraid. ( continued ) Page 188 SONG Serpent's Prow ( continued ) I toiled among the olive trees, Until a night of hot desire Blew me a breath of Altair seas And filled my veins with curious fire. Then I arose and broke my chain And laughed to know that I was free. And battered out my master's brain, And fled to gain the open sea. Beneath a copper sun adrift I shunned the proa and the dhow. Until I saw a sail uplift, And saw again the dragon prow. Oh, east of sands and sunlit gulf, Your blood is thin, your gods are few. You could not break a Norman wolf, And now the wolf has turned on you. The fires that light the coast of Spain Fling shadows on the Eastern strand. Masters your slave has come again With torch and ax in his red hand. Serpent's prow on the Afric coast. Doom on the Moorish town. And this is the song that the steersman sang, As the dragon ship swept down. Page 189 SONG Wearin' of the Green Oh! Paddy dear, and did you hear, the news that's goin' round. The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground; St. Patrick's day no more we'll keep, His color can't be seen, For there's a cruel law agin' the wearin' of the green. I met with Napper Tandy and he took me by the hand, And he said, "How's poor old Ireland, and how does she stand?" She's the most distressful country that ever you have seen; They're hangin' men and women there for wearin' of the green. Then since the color we must wear, is England's cruel red, Sure Ireland's sons will ne'er forget the blood that they have shed. You may take the shamrock from your hat, and cast it in the sod, But 'twill take root and flourish still, tho' underfoot 'tis trod. When the law can stop the blades of grass from growin' as they grow, And when the leaves in summertime their verdure dare not show, Then I will change the color I wear in my Caubeen, But 'till that day, I'll stick for aye to wearin' of the green. But if at last our color should be torn from Ireland's heart, Her sons with shame and sorrow from the dear old soil will part. I've heard whisper of a country that lies far beyond the say(sp?) Where rich and poor stand equal, in the light of freedom's day; Oh, Erin must we leave you, driven by the tyrant's hand? Must we ask a mother's welcome from a strange but happy land? Where the cruel cross of England's thralsdom never shall be seen, And where, in peace, we'll live and die, a-wearin' of the green. Page 190 SONG The Rising of the Moon Oh then tell me Sean O'Farrell, tell me why you hurry so Hush me bookle, hush and listen, and his cheeks were all aglow "I bear orders from the captain, get you ready quick and soon, For the pikes must be together by the rising of the moon." By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon, The pikes must be together by the rising of the moon. Oh then tell me Sean O'Farrell, where the gathering is to be, At the old spot by the river, quite well known to you and me. One more note, for signal token, whistle up the marching tune, With your pike upon your shoulder, by the rising of the moon. By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon, With your pike upon your shoulder, by the rising of the moon. Out of many a mud-walled cabin eyes were watching through the night Many a manly heart was throbbin' for the coming morning light. Murmurs ran along the valleys like the Banshee's lonely croon, And a t'ousand pikes were flashing by the rising of the moon. By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon, And a t'ousand pikes were flashing by the rising of the moon. There beside the singing river that dark mass of men was seen For above their shining weapons hung their own beloved green Death to every foe and traitor, forward strike the marching tune And 'urrah, me boys, for freedom, 'tis the rising of the moon. 'Tis the rising of the moon, 'tis the rising of the moon. And 'urrah, me boys, for freedom, 'tis the rising of the moon. Page 191 FILK Medieval Seneschal Or: I Am the Very Model of a Medieval Seneschal By: 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. Page 192 SONG A Dragon's Retort Tune: Irish Washerwoman Words: (C) 1985 by Claire Stephens 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

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