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