July 17, AS XXIV- love and kisses from Ciorstan. These are some of my current favorites, s

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July 17, AS XXIV-- love and kisses from Ciorstan... These are some of my current favorites, suitable to inflict upon (un)willing victims. Ioseph may know these tunes, if not, I'll be at Estrella next winter!! Song of the Pig's Side lyrics: Bob Kanefsky, to Song of the Men's Side, written by Rudyard Kipling (works really well to the Leslie Fish tune) Once we feared the Beast, when he came we ran away And hid in our homes though we knew That our fenced in home could not keep the Beast at bay But what could we pen-dwellers do The Beast made short work of the guards in our yards Snuffed out our fires with his paw But now we are sheltered one and all by a wall Secure in our sturdy house of straw So shout it to the falcons on the crest-- be impressed Neighbors stand back in awe This is the latest Beast-proof hut, keep it shut This is the house of straw. Straw's light weight let us build it in a day And it`s real easy stuff to weave But the Beast came by and he blew our home away And we thought that it might be best to leave So we made a hasty beeline for the wood, those who could And we stopped by a stream for a rest And we noticed how the beavers had played tricks with some sticks And thought maybe sticks work best So shout it to the eagles in the sky, let him try Let the Beast show up and take his licks This is the latest Beast-proof hut, keep it shut This is the house of sticks Sticks seem strong and they serve the beavers well But they gave us their own short ends For we live on land and as any fool can tell A dry stick will break before it bends So the Beast came back and he huffed and he puffed And he let loose with a mighty blast of air When materials are stressed more than they can take they will break All those who would build beware But we the last survivors of the pen tried again Where there's a problem there's a fix This is the latest Beast-proof hut-- keep it shut This is the house of bricks The Beast came back and he tried the same attack That had worked for him in the past But the well-built house and attractive chimney stack By their strength and weight held fast The Beast seeing bricks are not straw or sticks Slid down the chimney in a dive But ah-- we were waiting with a pot boiling hot And thus was the monster cooked alive Our sows and our little ones will feast on roast Beast And no more little pigs will be picked off We won't fear the crunching sound of feet as we eat Muzzles buried in the feeding trough We can eat with our tails stuck up in the breeze if we please We can sleep after meals in the mud For the big bad wolf we feared as the Beast is deceased Hogkind has spilled his blood Grendel Written by Kathy Mar and Leslie Fish Dumb as dirt and twice as mean, such a son makes mother crazy Foul as sewers I have seen, ugly, loutish, large and lazy That's the child I've had to raise, what's a Mom to do? Drag him to our ocean cave, and stay to watch him too. Son of mine, you've been a disappointment since your birth Now I've got to bury you in this cold northern earth I know you would be sorry if you weren't so very dead But you never listened to a word I said. Everybody's got to rest, even I get sleepy Sonny left our little nest on errands cruel and creepy Came back with a haunch of Man gnawed down to the bone Left each night from that day on, while I slept like a stone (chorus) Vikings gathered in their hall, heroes all in war delighting When my Grendel came to call he was met with mighty fighting One among them took his arm, ripped it off for good Chased him to our ocean home and killed him where he stood (chorus) When I found my wine was spiked, it was far too late to aid him Though there wasn't much I liked, I was often glad I'd made him So I must avenge him now, what's a Mom to do? If he was yours anyhow, I bet that you would too Grendel, part two (or, kids always seem to want the last word...) tune: Fish/Mar, lyrics: Skald-Brandr Toralfsson Backhand blows and trust betrayed, teach a son to love his mother Cursed be he and she that made, less a man than something other Hellbent have I been since birth, damned for father's sin Hating all I stalk this earth, leave havok where I've been Mother, dear, I know I disappoint you, I don't care All I have to thank you for are long years of despair You tell me that you love me now that my poor life is done but I don't believe you'll miss me when I'm gone Mother snores while Grendel creeps out for sport and bellyfilling Hunting rabbits in their sleeps, such as they were made for killing I the one to teach them fear, I the one to slay Satan's laughter echoes near when Grendel goes to play (chorus) Save us dear Lord from this Beast, the Danes cried out, a hero came I went to join them in their feast and learned the bitter taste of shame I howled to shatter Heaven's walls, shrieked so Hell could hear Told all creation with my calls my mortal end was near (chorus) Now at last my breath is gone, Mother, it's too late to chasten Let me lie till death comes on, then away to Hell I'll hasten Heaven's road is hidden from the likes of you or me I'll go when I'm bidden "come", but I will wait for thee... Come all you loyal lovers tune: traditional, words thinly 'filked' by Ciorstan MacAmhlaidh note: I make no apologies for this-- I are a Caidan, after all... Come all you loyal lovers, I'd have you to draw near And listen unto these few lines that I have written here And while these lines I do write the salt tears I have felt Lamenting for my own true love, who was slain in Atenveldt My hands they are so feeble now, my pen I scarce can hold My heart is full of sorrow now, my troubles are untold I mourn just like a true turtledove, my heart beats a heavy knell For now, alas, he lies dead, on the field in Atenveldt I wish that I'd been near my love, that day upon the field All for to save his dear heart's blood, his weapons I would wield With his sword and shield in hand his enemies I would fell For I'd kill the man who slew my love on the field in Atenveldt I wish that I were an eagle, I'd fly into the air All for to lose my labours and all to find him there I would become like some little bird, my flight both true and fell Until I found my own darling boy, on the field in Atenveldt A Grazing Mace yet more words! original first verse, author unknown-- or refusing responsibility... verses 2-5 by Skald-Brandr mentioned above 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 My mace has taught my foes to fear, that mace my fear relieved How precious did my mace appear, when I my mace received Through many tourneys wars and fairs, I have already come My mace has brought me safe thus far, my mace will bring me home The King has promised good to me, his word my hope secures I will his shield and weapon be, when he gives me my spurs And when my mace my foeman nails, that mortal strife shall cease And we'll possess within our pale, a life of joy and peace The Crafty Maid's Policy traditional (my opinion, probably Victorian, but... unless you're REALLY picky...) Come listen awhile and I'll sing you a song Of three merry gentlemen riding along They met a fair maid and to her they 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 and it lies 'twixt your legs If you give it to me it'll keep me quite warm Well, since you do crave it my dear you shall have it If you come with me to yonder green tree 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 straight in the face You knew not my meaning you wrong understood me And away she went galloping down the long lane Oh, gentlemen lend me one of your horses That I might 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 as soon as this fair maid she saw him coming Instantly took pistol in hand Doubt not my skill it's you I would kill I'll have you stand back or you're a dead man Oh, why do you spend your time in talking, Why do you spend your time here in vain Come give her a shilling, it`s what she deserves And I warrant she'll give you your horse back again Oh, no, kind sir, you're vastly mistaken If it's his loss, well it is my gain You were the witness what he did give me And away she went galloping over the plain Rain Ciorstan MacAmhlaidh (actually, c. 1988 by Karen Jolley, but who's counting?) Rain falls down upon the roof and softly roars overhead The fire gleams in false comfort as my arms twist empty in the bed The door is shut, your presence gone, an empty silence hangs I'm alone with ashes and mud-- why should I love again It's simple now finding words to say For the night is dark and cold for you have gone away I watched you go each time and thought of it as the last I wrapped myself in quiet thought, remembering all that had passed I went too far in naivety, unknowing I betrayed I'm alone with ashes and mud-- why should I love again It's simple now finding words to say For the night is dark and cold for you have gone away And all I have I'd freely give to have you return again I'd sit and look at you content, and listen to the rain But foolish dreams and fantasies don't make up reality I'm alone with ashes and mud-- why should I love again? It's simple now, finding words to say For the night is dark and cold and long, now you have gone away I am Lard To: I am Lord, by Kathy Mar and Gwen Zak Ciorstan MacAmhlaidh, with assistance from Brandr In the beat of your heart and the clothes that you wear I'm the lure in your meals and the love that you bear I live deep in your flesh, feel me move, feel me rise In your heart, in your veins, in your thighs I am Lard, I am weight sweating drops on your shirt I am food, and your form I will doom from your birth It takes strength to be free, banish snacks if you`re wise for your heart, for your veins, for your thighs i am hips, I get all, I will come 'cos I must Bringing carbos and fats for your waist and your bust Arteries my domain, for your death is my prize From your heart, from your veins, from your thighs I will clot in your blood, I will ooze from each poer When your dinner is done you will scream for more New York steak, baked potato, sour cream and chives For your heart, for your veins, for your thighs I am Lard, hear my dirge in the beat of your hear I am Lard, I take life-- I will make yours depart I am Lard, hear me laugh, feel me move, feel me rise In your heart, in your veins, in your thighs there will be more to come, typed in my _copious_ amounts of spare time....enjoy! ciorstaninstalment two, in which further songs are related to the unsuspecting. Remember, you were warned. I was a young man traditional I was a young man, I was a rover, nothing could satisfy me but a wife Soon as I reached the age of twenty, weary was I of the single life The very first year me wife I married, out of her company I could not stray Her voice as sweet as a lark or a linnet, or the song of the nightingale at break of day Now she's fairly altered her meaning, now she`s fairly changed her tune Nothing but scolding comes from her mouth; a poor man's labour's never done The very first year me wife I married, scarce could I get one half hours sleep With her two knees she rubbed my shins, says husband dear put down your feet The baby cried she bitterly scolded, out of the door I was forced for to run Without trousers, hat or a waistcoat, a poor man's labour is never done I went up to the top of the hill, to view my sheep that had all gone astray When I came back she was lying in her bed, at twelve o'clock on a summer's day When I came back both wet and weary, weary and wet now where could I run she was lying in her bed, the fire right beside her, says young man is the kettle on I'll go home to my aged mother, she'll be sitting all alone says there's plenty young women to be had, why should I be tied to one All young men that is to marry, don't they'll grieve you evermore death, o death come take my wife, and then my troubles will all be o'er The Wilted ...? yet another from the deadly fingers...maybe I should refuse responsibility? Once I was a swyver of the finest kind, a ruler of the bed But now I spend my days as an old used thing, and I find now I've got too red With a hey-ho derry up and down I sing, never any fun for an old drubbed ding My owner spends his time tucked in our pants, and dreams of naked flesh I spend my time in clothbound walls, getting slapped when we're too fresh With a hey-ho derry up and down I sing, never some relief for an old drubbed ding The other men they sit and talk of baring, thrust and fling But when I come out the wenches flee, and don`t give me a thing With a hey-ho derry up and down I sing, never any girls for an old drubbed ding The other ones they can raise and dive, and frolic near the ass I'm the model of decorum, I'm hard as hell, but not allowed to make a pass With a hey-ho derry up and down I sing hup-two-three-four old drubbed ding But one of these days there'll be a change, by myself I'll learn to rise And my owner will see when I go off, and nail him between the eyes! With a hey-ho derry up NOT down HE'LL sing-- never any rest for an old drubbed ding! note: hit up Ioseph for a slightly rewritten version... When I was a young man tune: the Ashgrove, lyrics: Peter S. Beagle (who undoubtedly has an SCA name, all things considered... but I don't know it) When I was a young man and very well thought of I couldn't ask aught that the ladies denied I nibbled their hearts like a handful of raisins And I never spoke love but I knew that I lied. But I said to myself Ah, they none of them know The secret I shelter and savor and save I wait for the one who will see through my seeming and I'll know when I love by the way I behave. The years drifted over like clouds in the heavens The ladies went by me like snow on the wind I charmed and I cheated, deceived and dissembled and I sinned and I sinned and I sinned and I sinned But I said to myself Ah, they none of them see There's part of me pure as the whisk of a wave My lady is late but she'll find I've been faithful And I'll know when I love by the way I behave. At last came a lady both knowing and tender Saying you're not at all what they take you to be I betrayed her before she had quite finished speaking And she swallowed cold poison and jumped in the sea And I say to myself when there's time for a word As I gracefully grow more debauched and depraved Ah, love may be strong, but a habit is stronger And I knew when I loved by the way I behaved. Rising After Noon Jill Blackhorse, tune SHOULD be obvious... a bit of ancient history Somewhere deep in slumber is a group of well grown men You'll see they are brave warriors if they ever wake again With someone wake our clan up 'cos we're supposed to fight For the clan must get it together, 'cos it's almost half past noon Oh, it's almost half past noon, it's almost half past noon will someone wake our clan up, it`s almost half past noon Tell me someone, tell me where the gather is to be At our chief's house in Lomita where it's always supposed to be Our chief Aonghais tells us when to fight, we think he's crazy as a loon 'Cos the times he picks for gathering are always before noon Always before noon, always before noon 'Cos the times he picks for gathering are always before noon If our clan gets it together we'll kill friend and foe alike You'll be so impressed with our technique even dying you will like And here we are at muster mubling out a battle tune Half the clan has made it thus far and it's only half past noon Only half past noon, only half past noon Half the clan has made it and it`s only half past noon Then we have the clan ladies who are awfully shy with men Well maybe shy the first time but never shy again You should be quaking in your booties 'cos we're going to fight real soon Our clan has got it together although it`s way past noon Although it's way past noon, although it`s way past noon Our clan has got together although it`s way past noon The Cuckoo's Nest Traditional, of course a wonderfully sly version of this is on a record entitled Morris On, (Island IRSP 6) 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 Me darling says she I am innocent and young I scarcely can believe your false deluding tongue Yet I see it on 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 me hand on your cuckoo's nest Chorus: Some like a girl who is pretty in the face and some like a girl who is slender in the waist 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 can do no such thing me Mother often told me it was committing sin Me maidenhead to lose and me senses to be abused so I'll thank you not to dwell 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 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 surprise so gently lift your hand to me cuckoo's nest Chorus (more loudly and enthusiastically than last time!) This couple they got married and soon they went to bed and so this pretty fair maid she lost her maidenhead in a small country cottage they increase and do their best and he often claps his hands on her cuckoo's nest Kerovan's Bride (to be found on the Caidan Bardic Circle Tapes, by Ciorstan MacAmhlaidh) (also copyright 1988, Karen E. Jolley. Big deal, so what.) More quarrelsome Irish. Remember, I are a Scot, so less of a temper to deal with. Of course, if you believe that, I have some lovely bogs for sale.... Kerovan put not your faith in princes and trust not the elven folk They'll betray you when your back is turned and think it all a splendid joke Kerovan laughs right merrily and waits for his friend to arrive I'll trust his folk and the sidhe king too until the day I die Kerovan's folk complain to his friend that their lord he'll not wed Kerovan laughs and rides to the hunt, I'm young yet for just one bed But a maiden arrives by his friend's decree a blow to Finvarra's pride The sidhe king smiles in ironic wise for both love Kerovan's bride Gold hair swings to Eithne's feet, her bright eyes are blue in hue Finvarra leaves the bridal feasting early with his strange retinue Alone he broods in the hollow hills caught by a mortal's smile He strikes his hand on his oaken throne resolved on magic`s guile Samhain's fires burn round the land, Eithne dances with them all She sets a wreath of bluebells upon her head and silent to the ground she falls Kerovan carries her home to their bed, cold and silent she lays still When morning light dawns Lady Eithne is gone, stolen by the sidhe king`s will Kerovan's search it brings him nothing, no answer he finds at all A final resort he comes to the hill over the sidhe king's hall Finvarra shrugs so ignorantly while Kerovan weeps his grief No sidhe would have dared Finvarra's wrath but what else could been the thief Then from the north comes a rider weary hanging to a horse half dead Eithne will be found in the sidhe king's hall making lies of what he'd said Kerovan rides to the hollow hill his demands bring no answer there The faint sound of music and mocking laughter hangs lightly in the air Kerovan returns with spade and pick to pay Finvarra back in kind Digs on through the short winter's day not knowing what he'd find Spreads salt over the hill's dark wound dark as his friendship`s dust Finvarra`s theft is of the cruelest kind a betrayal of mortal trust With sunset comes the final blow to breach the sidhe king's wall Below comes the sounds of the elven host dancing in their hall Kerovan sets the pick to the roof at last silence falls below Finvarra's secrets cannot endure the air and he lets Eithne go Eithne holds her arms out open wide and they run home with a will lady Eithne will never speak of that time and her eyes are shadowed still Kerovan kisses the crown of her head and gives to her no guilt Finvarra's spells fade on the winter's wind as Eithne's wreath of bluebells wilt Kerovan put not your faith in princes and trust not the elven folk They'll betray you when your back is turned and think it all a splendid joke Alone again in the hollow hills Finvarra regrets his lies But never again will the Sidhe king's hall be seen by mortal eyes


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