* AIR FALALALO There's lilt in the song I sing, there's laughter and love There's tang of the sea, and blue from Heaven above! Of reason there's none; and why should there be, for why? As long as there's fire in the blood, and light in the eye! CHORUS: Air falalalo horo, air falalalay (3X) Falee, falo, horo, air falalalay! The heather's ablaze wi' bloom, the myrtle is sweet There's song in the air; the road's a song at our feet! So step it along as light as the bird on the wing! And, stepping along, let's join our voices and sing: And whether the blood be Highland, Lowland or no, And whether the hue be black or white as the snow; Of kith and of kin, we are One, be it right, be it wrong, If only our hearts beat true to the lilt of the song! * 2 * A LESSON -Anonymous A charming master minstrel came travelling South one day Dressed he was in robes so fine, bright with colors gay And when he arrived at the inn where he had planned to stay He called to the serving wench and to her did say "Fetch me down some ale to drink for my throat is dusty! For it would never never do if my voice were rusty! Do be sure the sheets are clean and the room's not musty Come a little nearer, dear, you seem a wench most lusty!" The wench then did as she was bid and served a dinner fine The minstrel ate and then he called for a flagon full of wine Ans while he drained the flagon full he called the wench divine And as in answer to his prayers the wench brought him more wine The minstrel drank his wine more ribald grew his songs The wench did leave the minstrels side...but not for very long! Coming back she brought more wine, how could she do wrong? If the minstrel matched his songs he was very, very strong! The hour grew late and still the minstrel did not seem to tire All his songs had done to her was stoke her passion higher! And at last the room was full and dying was the fire "Four o'clock and alls well" sang the town's crier Suddenly the minstrel tired and needed help to bed He called to the serving wench and to her he said "Walk before me with the candle for I must be led For my senses, like the wine, seemingly are fled!" Then she led him to a room that had been set aside Wondering about his sudden needing of a guide Thinking about all the wine which he had imbibed Ardently she hoped the songs about him hadn't lied The wench did turn her back to him and closed the chamber door The minstrel then did fall in bed and he began to snore To herself she said as she looked for wine to pour "To this man I should have served less wine instead of more.." Now I've come to the end and moral of this tale Ladies if you'd like to spend your evening without fail And you do not wish to hear him snoring like a whale Limit then his intake of spirits, wine and ale! * 3 * ALWAYS A HERALD -Silverwolf Moonshadow (Tune: "Always a Woman," by Billy Joel) He can call you in court And bring tears to your eyes He can lose your device In his casual files And he only will read What is in Heraldese He draws like a child But he's always a herald to me He will take your device He can pass you or fail you You can show him your proof But he'll never believe you And he'll take your four copies Along with his fee Yeah he charges too much But he's always a herald to me Oh, he takes care of your name It can wait if he wants He is always behind And he never gives out He just keeps taking in And gets further behind And he'll summon you forth In front of the kingdom Then he casually praise you And smile while your kneeling But he'll shout out your name Just as wrong as can be Blame it all on the scribe Cause he's always a herald to me He's frequently loud And he's seldomly clear He cries poorly at Pennsic For he's full of cheap beer He can't be retired He does it for free And the most he will do Is shout 'Oyez' at you But he's always a herald to me * 4 * AWAY WITH RUM (THE SONG OF THE 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! The song of the Temperance Union! (Salvation Army) We never eat fruitcake because it has rum And one little bite turns a man to a bum, Oh, can you imagine a sorrier sight Than a man eating fruitcake until he gets tight? We never eat cookies, because they have yeast, And one little bite turns a man to a beast. Can you imagine such a sorry disgrace, As a man in the gutter with crumbs on his face? We don't drink Coke or Pepsi, they're made from cocaine, And you might as well shoot it right into your vein. Oh, can you imagine a sorrier bind Than rotting your teeth while blowing your mind. (1) We never drop tea, cause it comes from a pot, And that could be evil as likely as not, We don't mind the taste, but it's really bad news, To get busted for holding what Tom Lipton brews. (1) We don't step on grapes because that's making wine, And one single stomp turns a man to a swine. Can you imagine a fouler defeat, Than a man getting stonkered by licking his feet? (1) Shun girls who are witty and pretty and kind There's nothing like love for corrupting your mind. At least in -our- circle it just isn't done Our kids are adopted; we -never- have fun. (1) We don't buy any cereal because its called mush And one little bite turns a kid to a lush Oh, can you imagine the pain of a Ma To watch little Junior act just like his Pa! (2) We don't take any rub-downs, stiff muscles to cure Because alcohol turns a man to a boor O, can you imagine a sorrier fate: Than a man getting mass-aged 'till he can't stand up straight? (2) We don't allow backrubs, we think they're a crime We will always condemn them in song or in rhyme An alcohol backrub is worse than straight gin: When you think of the liquor absorbed thru your skin! (4) 5 Away With Rum (cont.) We don't watch television because its a sin To exhibit the body of a nude Rin-Tin-Tin And all those bad cowboys a-shooting their guns! And a-shooting again when they show the re-runs! (3) When you go out dining, you're tempted to eat All the delicacies on a menu elite Remember this warning, on wine we've a ban; Try spaghetti and meatballs and -not- coq au vin! (4) We never drink milk, that's where kumiss comes from And one tiny sip makes a Mongoloid bum! Oh, can you imagine a sadder disgrace Than a stone blind drunk Mongol with milk on his face? (5) We never touch coffee, it makes our eyes gleam At least, when they add irish whiskey and cream Oh, can you imagine a fate so unkind Than slugging down coffee, and getting stone-blind? (6) Since eggnog is evil, we never eat eggs Give way to one sin and who knows what comes neggst? There might be excuses for brandy or gin But who wants DTs on account of some hen? (6) We wish you'd avoid putting ice in your drink It harms your intestines and palate, we think And if you escape that, it still isn't nice To wake up hung over because of bad ice! (6) We never drink water, they mix it with gin Just one little sip and a man starts to grin Oh, can you imagine a sillier clunk Than a man swigging water until he's geshtunk? (6) Now if you ride railroads with bar-cars on trains You're giving the Devil the key to your brains Think of a story that's sadder to tell Than to start from Grand Central and wind up in Hell! (7) We never eat jelly, they make it with wine And one little bite turns a man to a swine Can't you envision, in Hell he will roast, That teen-ager drunk on his jelly and toast! (8) We never use mouthwash, we know very well That those who taste alcohol go straight to Hell Oh, can you imagine a sorrier scene Than a man down in Hell 'cause he used Listerine? (8) We never eat choc'late, 'cause its just like sex The endorphins will make you a moral wreck You'll finish the bag-full, all covered with sweat.... And then you just -gotta- have a cigarette! (5) (more) 6 Away With Rum (cont.) We don't read Science-Fiction, 'cause its too complex And Heinlein and Farmer just talk about sex! That Lazarus Long is a Dirty Old Man He's a Bad Example to set for a Fan! (5) We never drink tea, for they mix it with wine And one little drink turns a man to a swine Oh can you imagine a sorrier sight Than a man drinking tea, and singing all night? (0) We never use money, 'cause that's gam-bol-in' And that, my good friends, is surely a SIN Our life may be simple, it's surely a bore But what else can you do when you tend to be poor? (0) We never sing folk (filk) songs, they're evil and crude They celebrate Sin, and their language is lewd The language is shocking, the politics vile And their grammar and rhetoric ain't got no style! (6) When you meet a folk (filk) singer, you haven't much choice But to sit there and listen while they prove they have no voice And the shockingest thing to imagine by far Is a girl with a G-string....upon her guitar! (3) We don't listen to filk songs, it isn't our dish We don't like Bob Kanefski, and -hate- Leslie Fish! We know all the filkers will wind up in Hell And besides, all them filksongs have a real Fish-y smell! (5) We don't listen to Rock, 'cause it's Satan's own vice And the people who sing it are not very nice Oh can you imagine, it fills us with dread Me and the Bangles all sharing a bed! //YEAH!// (5) We don't mess with computers, they're the Devil's own thing And one little byte puts your mind in a sling! Oh can you imagine a sorrier sight Than a computer-nerd taking byte after byte! (5) We don't play medieval, we think it's a cult They wear funny clothing; they're quite difficult. Oh can you imagine a worse thing to say Than to say you're a member of the SCA? (5) So drinking and eating and loving you see, Are bound to destroy Spi-ri-tu-al-i-ty. Our tastes are austere and our virtue is sure. We don't have much fun, but our honor is pure. (1) We're coming, we're coming, our brave little band On the right side of Temperance we do take our stand We masturbate daily because we do think That once you start screwing, you're likely to drink! (9) (more) 7 **************** Away With Rum (cont.) 30 verses last update: 09/08/91 Known source credits: The first three verses are the "traditional" ones. (0) Source unknown (1) Stephen Whitis (2) Devera and Martin Marcus (3) Julius Kogan (4) Pat Herson (5) Joe Bethancourt (6) Dick Eney (7) Mark Glasser (8) Paula Smith (9) Jim Landau * 8 * THE BALLAD OF THE GREEN PERFORMER (Credited to Jane Rogge Fredericksen, Elise Krueger, Brian Murphy, and whoever else was in the car on the way home from Minrod's wedding) See-through tights You know those guys upon their legs called Puke and Snot? They can`t dance They get put down or juggle eggs an awful lot Three hundred kids They say they're snobs tried out today But hey, who cares? and all but three They're pretty nice will get no pay. for millionaires.... You rookies think I worked and prac- this is your chance ticed constantly to have a Fest- in hopes the staff ival romance would notice me If you'd avoid They showed me that embarrasment they really care Make sure to get They traded me a soundproof tent to Valleyfair (*amusement park competitor*) Last year I camped This is a mind- upon the ground expanding show The winds they blew I've learned so much the rain came down I didn't know This year my home I have discovered is watertight cosmic truth I've moved into It's four parts gin a Satellite. one part vermouth (*local brand of Porta-San, Porta-potty*) A minstrel lives This year we're get- upon her hat ting kind of mean You won't get rich We like to turn Remember that! the patrons green You'll never hear Our method to the clink of gold provoke unease unless you're cute We sing duets and five years old. In different keys! * 9 * BALLAD OF SAINT BUNSTABLE -Cerian Cantwr (c) copyright 1990 Charles Grab CHORUS: Guard the wine, guard the wine. No matter what may happen, you make sure that wine stays hid. Guard the wine, guard the wine. Now we all guard our wine like Saint Bunstable did. In an abbey on the coast of dear old England's shores, An alcoloyte, named Bunstable, was told to do his chores. He did not have an inkling of just what fate had in mind, Patron saint of fermentation, alcohaul, beer, mead, and wine. Bunstable, he was a simple soul, he wasn't very bright. But he did his duty faithfully, morning, noon, and night. His chores, they weren't too complex, for that would tax his head. On in particular was simple. This is what his abbot said: One fateful day came Viking raiders, like a dark wave on the coast. The abbey was unable to repel the Norsemen's host. Bunstable was in the cellar, heard them slaughter young and old. And though trembling with fear, he knew to do as he'd been told. The cellar door it had been locked, but the Vikings would break through So grimly looking round, he knew exactly what to do. He broke open each and every cask, he did not think of flight. And when the deed was done, he'd drunk every drop in sight. When the Vikings came downstairs, they were somewhat less than pleased That Bunstable had drunk the wine, there was none to be siezed. They threatened Bunstable with flame, but when fire met his breath, There was a great explosion, and they all burned to death. When the Vikings reached Valhalla, they were certainly surprised, And for his act of brav'ry Bunstable was canonized. It truly is a miracle, to drink up as he did, And it is to his credit that he kept the wine well hid. * 10 * THE BARNYARDS O'DELGATY As I gang doon by Turra Market, Turra Market for t'fee I fell in wi' a farmer chiel, by th' Barnyards O'Delgaty Chorus: Luntin addie, turin addie, luntin addie turin-ee Luntin lowrin' lowrin' lowrin', the barnyards o'Delgaty! He promised me the aye best horse that iver I set my een upon But when I gat t'his barnyard, there's naethin' there but skin and bone The auld black horse sat on her rump, th' auld grey mare sat on her wime And fer all I'd whup an' crack, they wouldna rise at yokin' time When I gang doon tae Kirk on Sunday, many's th' bonny lass I see Sittin' by her father's side, winkin' o'er th' pews at me! Oh I can drink and no be drunk, and I can fecht an' no be slaun, And I can lie wi' another man's lass and still be welcome tae my own! Noo me cannle is brunt oot, me snotter's fairly on the wane, Fare-ye-weel ye Barnyards: Ye'll niver catch me here again! (alternate verses 2 and 3:) He promised me the aye best hoor that iver I set my een upon But when I gat t'his barnyard, t'was naethin' there but skin-and-bone! The auld black hoor sat on her rump, th' auld grey mare sat on her wime And fer all I'd whup an' crack, I couldna rise at yokin' time! * 11 * BARTHOLOMEW ROBERTS -David Grossman copyright 1983 David Grossman I found him lyin' on a broken dock In a drunken sleep about four o'clock In the mornin' One leg good, the other one wood, His eye patched over just like it should, I woke 'im. I said "Excuse me, sir, but might you be A Bartholomew Roberts piracy?" He asked what it was to me..... I told him. "I, sir, am but an average Joe, A song-smith travelin' here and fro, I'd like to talk to you a bit before I go." He said, "My belly could use a little rum, you know." I gave him the bottle, and he turned to speak His face was old, his voice was weak He claimed to be the last of the crew's defeat By a British Man O'War off Cape Lopez CHORUS: Roberts was a gentleman Drank his tea from an old tin can Never touched a bottle, kept a clean ship and.... You'd never guess he was a pirate! He said "Our ship was as mighty as a sloop could be, Over four hundred vessles plundered we With our sacks full of biscuits we'd return to the sea Our Jolly Roger blowin' proud and free." "Once Roberts robbed a vessle of it's prize He'd return the ship to its' Captain's sorry eyes. Never questioned any man's disguise; Followed the Sabbath as he followed the skies." "I remember the day clear in me mind, We were scrubbin' the hull for the very last time, A British Man-of-War attacked from behind, We were too drunk to fight, we were too drunk to mind." "Well, I, by chance, swum under a pier, And escaped my fate thru luck and fear Roberts wasn't drunk, he was just too near; The thought of his death still fills me eyes with tears." I left the dock, and headed on, Put the pirate's words into a song, Roberts may be dead, but his story's not gone, (Though it's hard to believe he was a pirate!) * 12 * THE BEGGAR MAN I am a little beggar-man, a beggin' I have been I been three-score or more in this little Isle of green, And I'm known from the Liffey, down to Segume, And I'm known by the name of old Johnny Dhu! Of all the things a-goin', sure the beggin' is the best When an old man is tired he can sit down and rest Beggin' for his dinner, he has nothin' else to do Than to lie around his parlor on his old rig-a-doo! I slept in a barn down at Currabawn A wet night came on and I slept till the dawn With holes in the roof, and the rain a-comin' thru And the rats and the cats, they was playin' peek-a-boo! When who should awaken, but the woman of the house, With her white spotty apron and her calico blouse She became frightened, and I said "Boo! Arrah! Don't be afraid, ma'am, it's only Johnny Dhu!" I met a little flaxey-haired girl one day, "Good mornin' little flaxey-haired girl," I did say; "Well, good mornin' little beggar-man, and how do y'do? Wi' your rags and your tags and your old rig-a-doo?" I'll buy a pair of buckles, and a collar and a tie, And a nice young lady I will fetch, by and by, Buy a pair of stockings and I'll color them blue And an old fashioned lady I will make of you! Over the road with me pack on me back Over the fields wi' me great heavy sack! With holes in me shoes, and the toes a-peekin' thru Singin' skin-a-ma-rink-a-doodle-dum for old Johnny Dhu! I must be goin' t'bed, for it's gettin' late at night And the fires all banked, and out goes the light Now you've heard the story of me old rig-a-doo, It's goodbye and God be with ya, says old Johnny Dhu! (Note: the melody is known also as "The Little Red-Haired Boy") * 13 * BERSERK RAG (written A.S.IV) -Anonymous (Tune: "Feel Like I'm Fixin' To Die Rag") I just read in my TI That we should all prepare to die For you must fight within the lists As though there's steel within your fist When you get out there to fight, you swing with all your might! For it's one, two, three, why do we strike full force? Don't tell me that's absurd, I follow Bersark's word And it's five, six, seven, open up the pearly gates Well, ours is not to question why-- Whoopie, we're all going to die! Walk across the people bunchin', Listen to the bones a-crunchin' See the fighters start to hurt, Watch the blood fall out in spurts Be the first one on the floor to fall all covered with gore Splinter temples, sever arteries, Shatter craniums, hit 'em harder please Hit so hard they'll hear it in Donegal, But list your injuries with the Seneschal If you can't knock off his head, hit 'em in the kidneys instead Set your sword against the slim one And get pounded by the grim one If you think that you're the best, Go and challenge Seldomrest Be the first Knight on your block to send your squire home in a box! For it's one, two, three, why do we strike full force? A rule we can't afford, let's complain to the Board! And it's five, six, seven, answer this if you will Wouldn't you like to be the first to die - Better yet first to kill! * * 14 * BOLD MARAUDER -Richard Farina (c) copyright 1967 Music Publishers Holding Corp. It's hi, ho, hey, I am the bold marauder! It's hi, ho, hey, I am the white destroyer! For I will buy you silver and gold and I will bring you treasure And I will bring a widowing flag and I will be your lover And I will show you grotto and cave and sacrificial altar And I will show you blood on the stone and I will be your mentor And night will be our darling and fear will be our name It's hi, ho, hey, I am the bold marauder! It's hi, ho, hey, I am the white destroyer! For I will take you out by the hand and lead you to the hunter And I will show you thunder and steel and I will be your teacher And we will dress in helmet and sword, and dip our tongues in slaughter And we will sing a warrior's song and lift the praise of murder And Christ will be our darling and fear will be our name It's hi, ho, hey, I am the bold marauder! It's hi, ho, hey, I am the white destroyer! For I will sour the winds on high and I will soil the rivers And I will burn the grain in the fields and I will be your mother And I will go to ravage and kill and I will go to plunder And I will take a Fury to wife and I will be your father And Death will be our darling and fear will be our name It's hi, ho, hey, I am the bold marauder! It's hi, ho, hey, I am the white destroyer! * 15 * BONNIE DUNDEE -Sir Walter Scott To the Lords of Convention 'twas Claverhouse spoke Ere the King's crown go down, there are Crowns to be broke So each Cavalier that loves honour and me Let him follow the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee! (Chorus): Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can Come saddle my horses and call out my men Unhook the west port and let us gae free For it's up wi' the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee! Dundee he is mounted, he rides up the street The bells they ring backward, the drums they are beat But the Provost (douce man!) said "Just e'en let it be!" "For the town is well rid of that devil, Dundee!" There are hills beyond Pentland, and lands beyond Forth Be there lords in the South, there are chiefs in the North! There are brave Duinnewassals three thousand times three Will cry "Hey for the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee!" Then awa' tae the hills, tae the lea, tae the rock, Ere I own a usurper, I'll crouch with the fox! And tremble, false Whigs, in the midst of your glee: Ye hae no seen the last o' my bonnets....and me! * * BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL Hie upon Highlands, and laigh upon Tay, Bonnie George Campbell rode out on a day Saddled and bridled and gallant rode he, Hame cam his guid horse, but niver cam he! Saddled and booted and bridled rode he A plume tae his helmet, a sword at his knee, But toom cam his saddle, all bluidy tae see, Hame cam his guid horse, but niver cam he! Doon cam his auld mithir, greetin' fu' sair, Oot cam his bonnie wife, rievin' her hair, "My meadows lie green, and my corn is unshorn, My barn is tae big, and my babe is unborn!" (repeat verse 1) * 16 * BORED OF THE DANCE -The Kipper Family recorded on "The Kipper Family-Fresh Yesterday" (Written by George Kipper, who is Mr. Kipper's uncle, as far as we know......) As I walked down to the village hall I met Charlie leanin' on the wall "Why are you standin' out here, Char-lee?" "Cause I am bored of the dance!" said he! CHORUS: Dance! Dance! What -ever- do they see? In prancin' round all the time, said he I'll leave them all to do it without me For I am bored of the dance, said he! I come to the dance with my girl, he said I told her that I'd rather go to bed, Oh yes I'm sure you would, said she, But first you'll come and dance with me! She said, You'll come and dance right now! But I weren't list'nin' when the caller told us how They "cast left," but "right" I went They danced on, but I ended in the "Gents'!" I drank with the Morris-men, James and John, They drank with me as the dance went on and on, We drank and we drank till it all went black. It's hard to dance when you're lyin' on your back! Oh, how she danced on the night they were wed She danced, he drank, and then they went to bed I'm afraid there's no more story to be told She was too hot, and he was out cold! * 17 * THE BORGIA REVEL -Anonymous (Tune: Unknown) The Borgias are giving a party There's a Borgia revel tonight! Isn't it sickenin' we've run out of strychinine! The gravy will have to have ground glass for thickenin' The poisoned chianti is terribly scanty But everything else is all right. I've hidden an asp in the iced canteloupe There's cyanide mixed with the mock-turtle soup And straight benzedrine in the apricot coupe At the Borgia revel tonight! The Borgias are holding a party! There's a Borgia revel tonight! The arsenic pasta should prove a disaster The Spanish fly pizza should work even faster The tank in the Ladie's should blow them to Hades If anyone turns on the light! When the butler flings open the dining room door There's a clever contraption concealed in the floor We're wondering who'll sit on the circular saw At the Borgia revel tonight! Our guests are exclusively chosen From people who give us a pain The cream of the jest is in knowing That they won't be back again! We'll have all the nobles of Naples At the Boria revel tonight! For the Duke's youngest son there's a monstrous cream bun Soaked in hot Prussic acid it's all good clean fun! We're pushing some people we know off a steeple They should have a wonderful flight The bodies will drop thru the trap door below To the Tiber and drift off to sea on the flow We think we can promise one hell of a show At the Borgia revel tonight! We revel in giving a party A fete, or a fancy masked ball! There's sure to be lots of excitement And a good time's to be had by all! The Borgia's are throwing a party There's a Borgia revel tonight! The soup minestrone is frightfully phony And laudanum reeks from the stewed macaroni We're feeling no pain when they put the henbane In the third tangerine from the right! We're bricking the Cardinal up in the wall His agonized screams won't disturb us at all As we sit there sipping our wormwood and gall At the Borgia revel tonight! * 18 * BRENNAN ON THE MOOR 'Tis of a brave young highwayman a story I will tell His name was Willie Brennan and in Ireland he did dwell T'was up on Killworth mountain he commenced his wild career And many a wealthy nobleman before him shook with fear CHORUS: And it's Brennan on the moor; Brennan on the moor, Bold, brave and undaunted stood young Brennan on the moor! One day upon the highway, as Willie he went down, He spied the Mayor of Cashell, a mile outside the town The Mayor he knew his features, and he said, "Young man!" said he Your name is Willie Brennan, you must come along with me! Now Brennan's wife had gone to town, provisions for to buy When she saw her Willie taken, she began to weep and cry Said: "Hand to me that ten-penny!" As soon as Willie spoke She handed him a blunderbuss from underneath her cloak! Now Brennan got his blunderbuss, the truth I will unfold He made the Mayor to tremble, and he robbed him of his gold! 100 pounds were offered for his apprehension there, But he, with horse and saddle to the mountains did repair Now Brennan is an outlaw upon the mountain high With cavalry and infantry to take him they did try But he laughed at them and scorned at them, until it was said By a false-hearted woman he was cruelly betrayed They hanged Brennan at the crossroads, in chains he swung and dried But still they say that in the night, some do see him ride They see him with his blunderbuss, all in the midnite chill Along, along the King's Highway rides Willie Brennan still! * 19 * BRIGHT SILVER BANDS -Thorsen Danske (Tune: "Black Velvet Band") While out on the field she is gallant A-toting a weapon or three Her opponents she leaves by the wayside A-wondering who she could be! She fights so well in a shield wall The enemy runs from her grin And she's so proficient at shield-hooks That her shield work has killed many men! CHORUS: Her sword, it shines like a mirror Her shield is the best in the land And her hair hangs out of her armour All braided with bright silver bands! The lads, they stare at a distance The lady does not understand That her countenance speaks of resistance From the loveliest lass in the land It's not that they dislike her armour For chainmail is pretty to see But at night she should hang up her weapons For in bed, blades are bad company! A young lad, he once tried to kiss her, As back from the field she did stroll But his nose got caught in her visor, And now he resembles a troll! A tale can be told of another Who wanted this lady to court But he rolled on top of her dagger And now he is three inches short! So take this advice, you young warriors, When a lady has taken the field Beware of the edge of her weapon, And also the edge of her shield! If you meet her again in the evening More cautious yet should be your game Or you'll travel home the next morning A-feeling exceedingly lame! * 20 * THE BURDEN OF THE CROWN -Baldwin of Erebor The battlefield is silent the shadows growing long Though I may view the sunset I'll not live to see the dawn The trees have ceased to rustle, the birds no longer sing All nature seems to wonder at the passing of a king And now you stand before me your father's flesh and blood Begotten of my sinews on the woman that I loved So difficult the birthing, the mother died that day And now you stand before me to take my crown away The hour is fast approaching when you come into your own When you take the ring and scepter and sit upon your throne Before that fatal hour when we each must meet our fate Pray gaze upon the royal crown and marvel at its weight This cap of burnished metal is the symbol of a land Supporting all we cherish, the dreams for which we stand The weight you'll find is nothing if you hold it in your hand The burden of the crown begins the day you put it on See how the jewels sparkle as you gaze on it again Each facet is a subject whose rights you must defend Every point of light a burden you must shoulder with your own And mighty is the burden of the man upon the throne The day is nearly ended, my limbs are growing cold I feel the angels waiting to receive my passing soul Keep well for me my kingdom, when my memory is dead And forgive me for the burden I place upon your head! * 21 * CAIDAN LADIES -Kaarna of the Amethyst The Scottish highland lassie, when in her tartan clad Will soft lay down her arisaid, and then raise up her lad! CHORUS: Beware of Caidan ladies, be cautious if you're smart They'll pinch the family jewels before they steal your heart! Before they steal your heart! A Tudor wears a corset to display her softer parts But the bands that bind the garment prove the metal of her heart! A Viking maid from Norseland is plunderful to behold She'll whisper silver night-dreams, then vanish with your gold! A Belly-Dancer shimmies her charms beneath a veil To tempt a shy lord bolder, and cause a prude to pale! Off-field, a lady fighter is beautiful, not tough, But cross her when she's armoured and you'll end up on your duff! The peasant maid of England, a lusty, winsome wench, Will roll you in a haystack, then get you in a clench! Lady cavaliers wear diamonds, and daggers have they none \\oh, yeah?\\ Tho her lord may wield a rapier, her weapon is her tounge! * CALONTIR SHOULD STAND ALONE -Noddel of the Alan (Tune: "Sink The Bismark") Calontir should stand alone, and so say all of us We're gonna fight the Kingdom 'cause they're makin' such a fuss! CHORUS: Hit the field a-runnin' lads, and swing those blades around! We're gonna fight the Middle, 'cause the Middle let us down! Calontir should stand alone and fight for what is ours To have a King that is our own, and all the Kingdom powers! We're gonna fight the Middle 'cause the Middle wants us not We're gonna fight the Middle 'cause they left us here to rot! Knights we have deserving, who haven't got their belts This is surely proven by Ansteorran welts! The war-i-ors of Calontir have kept the Middle strong But we know our recompense has waited far too long! Artisans and crofters, rally to Calontir! Fight with scythe and hammer, beside the heart-land's fyrd! We will not be used again to fight the Middle's wars When next our warriors go to fight we'll be at the King's own doors! 22 * THE CELT CAME BACK -Anonymous (Tune: "The Cat Came Back") Now, one old King had troubles of his own Had a thick-skinned bard that wouldn't leave home He tried and he tried to send that bard away He sold him to a Dane going far, far away...... CHORUS: But the Celt came back, the very next day! They thought he was a goner, but the Celt came back He just wouldn't stay away! The local Baron said that he would shoot that Celt on sight So he loaded up his cannon with powder to the sight He waited and he waited for that bard to come around Itty-bitty pieces of the castle's all they found.... He gave him to a Visigoth going out East Saying "Sell him to the Mongols; feed him to a Beast!" They got up to the Channel, and they thought they'd get across Tomorrow they'll write off the 'Goth as bein' a total loss... He gave him to a serf with a ten-shilling note Take him out on the lake, take him out on a boat! They tied a rock around his neck, it must have weighed ten stone And now they drag the shoreline, 'cause the boat came back..alone.. They sent him to the Borgia's to have a little feast Kill him off with poisoned wine, use cyanide at least! He drank several barrels of the poisoned wine that day And now all the Borgias have all...passed away... He gave him to a knight, to use him for a pell Saying "Beat him smartly, I wanna hear him yell!" The knight armoured up, and sharpened up his sword No one's ever heard again of that knightly Lord.... The Greek Fire fell the other day Lightning from Heaven in the very same way! Egypt's gone, Greece is gone, Sumeria's gone, Rome is gone... They've all passed away The whole Ancient World crumbled into dust that day CHORUS: But the Celts came back the very next day Thought that they were goners, but the Celts came back They just couldn't stay away! * * 23 * CHILDREN OF DARKNESS -Richard Farina (c) copyright 1967 M. Witmark & Sons Now is the time for your loving, dear, and time for your company. Now that the light of reason fails, and fires burn on the sea; Now in this age of confusion I have need of your company. For I am a wild and lonely child, and the son of an angry man; And now, with the high wars raging, I would offer you my hand! For we are the children of darkness and the prey of a grim command. It's once I was free to go roamin' in the wind of a springtime mind. And once the clouds I sailed upon were sweet as lilac wine. Then why have the breezes of summer, dear, been laced with a grim design? And where was the will of my father when he raised his sword on high? And where was my mother's wailing when our flags were justified? And where will we take our pleasure when our bodies have been denied? Now is the time for your loving, dear, and time for your company. Now that the light of reason fails, and fires burn on the sea; Now in this age of confusion I have need of your company. * * THE CHILL EASTERN WINDS -Andy Stewart Prepare you sweet flowers, for winter advances And drink well the sunlight that touches your form Draw strength from the Earth, and repay her with beauty For the dark days are comin', oh, and they'll do y'harm CHORUS: When the chill eastern winds replace summer breezes And the long summer days are remembered no more Then you'll know how it feels when a woman's love changes When at last she has told you she loves you no more I saw her today when she walked with her new love In all the fine places that we'd walked before They kissed by the rocks where she told me she loved me And soon she'll be using those same words once more There's none that could blame me for wanting her beauty But it lies like a snowflake in the hands of a child When the warmth of my love tried to reach out and hold her It's then she was gone, to prove she's still wild * 24 * CHIVALRY -Morgana bro Morganwyg (Tune: "Lemon Tree") CHORUS: Chivalry, very pretty, and the ladies they are sweet But they find that the Mongols are impossible to beat! When I was just a lad of ten, my father said to me Come here and take a lesson from the belted Chivalry Don't put your trust in knights, my boy. my father said to me Come here and watch the Mongols kill the belted Chivalry! But when I grew, I fell in love and the lady said to me I think that I will keep my heart for the belted Chivalry I said that I'd become a knight as quick as quick can be The music of her laughter hid my father's words from me So off to Tourney I did go, a squire all belted red A rattan broadsword in my hand, a helmet on my head I stepped onto the tourney field, to fight so noble-lee Then a backhand blow from a knightly sword caved in my helm for me! They had to bear me from the field for I could hardly see But I could hear my lady wooing belted Chivalry! So if I ever love again, I know that you will see A girl who wants a Mongol love, not belted Chivalry! * 25 * THE CHIVALRY WENT FOR PIZZA -Cerian Cantwr (c) copyright Charles Grab 1990 CHORUS: And the chivalry went for pizza, They would not be denied. Yes, the chivalry went for pizza, With those pies they'd be supplied. The chivalry went for pizza, And they did cause quite a fuss, But the chivalry got the pizza, And they brought it back to us. It was Sunday after Pennsic The time dragged on and on and on The war was at an end. And still no pizza showed. We got to feeling hungry I tell to you most heartily, For the mundane world again. We were getting quite POed. We thought to order pizza, A last call to the restaurant And thus we sealed our fate. Said, pizza on your plate? For the pizza man, he told us, Take it easy, there's no problem, We would have two hours' wait. Just another hour's wait. Two hours came and went, Well folks, that finally did it, But no pizza did appear. The knights stood up to a man. That's when we got to wondering They decided to go into town Just what did go on here. Their weapons well in hand. A phone call to the restaurant The pizza shop they'd ransack, Assured us all was well, And the blood would freely flow. But 'twould be another half hour Well they retrieved our dinner, Ere the pizza we would smell. But just how, I do not know. The time it did pass slowly, Now gentles listen closely, Irritation, it did grow. And I shall tell you right. Our stomachs fell to grumbling, If Pennsic Sunday you want pizza, For our dinner did not show. You will have a hungry knight. When the time had all expired, The war, it may be over, Our thoughts, they did grow ill. But you should not forget, Especially when we heard If you go and order pizza, Another thirty minutes still. You'll have one more battle yet. * 26 * COME SHARE THE DREAM Lyrics by Sieglinde Syr Music by Sieglinde Syr and Iolo Fitz Owen Listen! The Laurel Branches sing; The wind give life thus to the song. Knighthood's flower breathes once more, Born and bloomed a-maying. And on a spring wind it has flown, From sea to sea these twenty years; Seedlings of the dream have sown Ten, to the fullest glory grown. We who are here have heard The voice calling from by-gone days "Come share the dream, come live the legends, Relearn the ancient ways." CHORUS: Come, share the dream, come hold it in your hands As it might once have been; Come live the legends that will never die Through us they live again. Reaching thru time, their touch is real, Upon the road of glory anon Side by side we ride with kings Bards shall sing our stories Tales are remembered skills not lost, As it once was it shall be again And through us our children will know Of the greatness long ago. Each spring's rebirth shall be the time When time it's pace would slow And for a moment take us once more Into the days of yore. Those who began it here join hands With those for whom the magic is new, And it's spell a siren's song, Calls us all to follow. Heed it we will and follow still ideals Born of fire and sword Born these twenty years ago (Where) mist and wind the laurels blow. And to our shores and mountains And plains carry the living dream, As it once was it has been again; Chivalry lives, my friend. Chivalry lives, my friend! * 27 * CRUSADER'S SONG -Conn MacNeil As my ship sets sail I watch the far coastline, Leaving my kinfolk my heart is sore pained. I've traded all for the cross at my shoulder, No land for a third son, so I'm away. (CHORUS): I'm for the Holy Land sailing, To win back Jerusalem's walls, I'm for the Holy Land sailing, And I'll win a fortune or a martyr I'll fall. I look around me at the men on the benches, Their eyes are like mine, so I know their hearts pain. I sing them a song of bravery in battle, Now their eyes shine like their keen polished blades. We follow King Richard to Sicily Island, O'er Joanna's dowry 'gainst Tancred prevailed, Now a fortune in silver and a new wife hath Richard, And I've a swift horse and a fine coat of mail. Landfall at Cyprus, they refused Berengaria, Richard in anger has answered in steel, He's added the crown of Cyprus to England's, And I've added knighthood's gold spurs to my heels. I followed the banner to battle at Acre, And held it aloft when its bearer was slain. We've given Richard a tower of the city, He's given me rank and a full Captain's pay. At Arsouf on the coastline we met with the paynim, And we won the battle, though many men fell. One was a baron who's lands needed tending -- Now they are MINE, and I'll tend them well! I sit in court over Christian and Moslem, I've a strong keep, and soldiers ten score, King Richard's army has set sail for England, I've said farewell, for I'll see them ne'er more. For I'm in the Holy Land staying, To guard my own castle walls. I'm in the Holy Land staying, For I've made my fortune, so farewell to all! * 28 * THE DANCER'S VANITY -Yang the Nauseating (Verses 1-3 by Middle Kingdom Guild of Exotic Dancers) (Tune: "Golden Vanity" Once there was a group and it fought with Tregirtsee And the name of the group was the Northwoods Barony And they feared they would be threatened by the Mongol enemy As they fought along the Inland, Inland, Inland, Fought along the Inland Sea! Then up there spoke a dancer, with her little sisters she Bravely said to the King, "What will you give to me? If I dance along the side of the Mongol enemy, And turn them from the Northwoods Barony, In their march along the Inland Sea?" "Well, I will give you silver, and I will give you gold, And my own chosen Queen each of you in turn will be, If you dance alongside of the Mongol enemy, And you turn them from the Inland, Inland....&c" Then she rode to the camp of the Mongol enemy To the camp of the Horde, fierce warriors proud and free, Saying, "Take me to your leader, or Warlord if you please, I'm sent here from the Northwoods Barony, I'm sure that he will speak to me!" Then she let drop her cloak, and in dancer's garb stood she, And she said to the Warlord, "All that you can see, And that which you cannot, I would freely give to thee, If you overlook the Northwoods Barony As you march along the Inland Sea!" "Oh well do I like silver, and well do I like gold, And the trust of my men is the thing most dear to me! But when I am confronted by a beauty such as thee, Then the Devil take the Northwoods Barony! We'll overlook them eagerly! She returned (the next morning) to the Northwoods Barony, And she said to the King, "We've achieved the victory! I have turned the march of the Mongol enemy! Now, where is the reward you promised me? The treasures of our Barony?" "Well, some kind of fool you must take for me to be, If you think I would give reward to such as thee, Who has openly consorted with the Mongol enemy, When they failed to reach the Northwoods Barony, In their march along the Inland Sea!" Then a great cry arose, and all did turn to see And there in their midst was the Mongol enemy! Who had never ceased their march on the Northwoods Barony! They had double-crossed the dancer, proud and free, Just like the Northwoods Barony! (more) 29 Dancer's Vanity (cont.) "Dear dancer and dear King," said the Warlord, full of glee, "Did you think that you could work your ploys on such as we? By your own rules, we return treachery for treachery! And you never will be rid of fools like me, If you try to deal in treachery!" The moral of this story - please listen while I sing - Is: Never trust a Dancer, a Mongol....or a King! For, if you do, some kind of fool you'll be, And they'll sink you in the Inland, Inland, Inland, Sink you in the Inland Sea! * 30 * DINNY THE PIPER -Traditional (?) Recorded by Andy M. Stewart "Dublin Lady" Green Linnet CSIF 1083 In the year '98, when our troubles were great It was treason to be a Milesian. And the black-whiskers said we would never forget And our history shows they were Hessians. And in these troubled times, it was a great crime And martyrdom never was riper Near the town of Glenshee, not an acre from Meath, Lived one Denny Burns, the Piper! Neither weddin' nor wake would be worth a shake If Denny was first not invited. For at squeezin' the bag, or emptyin' the keg, He astonished as well as delighted! But in these times Denny could not earn a penny, Martial Law had him stung like a viper! And it kept him within till the bones of his skin Grinned thru the rags of the piper! Now one day it did dawn, as Denny crept home, Back from a fair at Lethangin, When what should he see, from the branch of a tree, But the corpse of a Hessian, there hangin'! Says Denny, "These rogues have got boots, I've no brogues!" He took hold of the boots wi' a griper, And the boots were so tight, and he pulled with such might, Legs and all come away with the piper! Ah, then Denny did run for fear of bein' hung Til he came to Tim Haley's cabin. Says Tim from within, "I can't let ye in! Ye'll be shot if you're caught out there rappin'!" So he went to the shed where the cow was in bed, He began with a whisper to wipe her, And they lay down together, in seven foot of heather, And the cow took to huggin' the piper! Well the day it wore on, and Denny did yawn, And he stripped off the boots from the Hessian! And the legs, for the law, he just left in the straw, And he slipped home with his new possessions! Now breakfast bein' done, Tim sent his young son To get Denny up like a lamplighter, And the legs there he saw; he flew up like a jackdaw! And said "Daddy, the cow's et the piper!" Ah, bad luck to that beast, she's no musical taste! To eat such a jolly old chanter! Ah, faugh! We'll evict! Take a lump of a stick! Drive her off, down the road and we'll canter! Well the neighbors were called, Mrs. Kennedy bawled, She began for to humbug and jiper, And in sorrow they met, and their whistles they wet, And like devils, lamented the piper! 31 Denny The Piper (cont.) And the cow she was drove a mile or two off, And they came to a fair at Killaley. And there she was sold for four guineas of gold To the clerk of the parish, John Daley. And they went to the tent where the pennies were spent, Tim bein' a jolly old swiper, And who should be there, playin' a rake-sickal tear, Just your bold Denny Burns, the piper! Ah, then Tim give a jolt like a half-drunken colt, And he stares at the piper like a gammick! I thought, by the Powers, for the last sev'ral hours, You were playin' in the old cow's stomach! Well when Denny observed that the Hessian's been served Began just to humbug and jiper, Oh, in grandeur they met, and their whistles they wet, And like devils they danced round the piper! * DO VIRGINS TASTE BETTER? (Also known as - An Old Cliche Revisited) -R. Farran (Tune: "The Irish Washerwoman") A dragon has come to our village today. We've asked him to leave, but he won't go away. Now he's talked to our king and they worked out a deal. No homes will he burn and no crops will he steal. Now there is but one catch, we dislike it a bunch. Twice a year he invites him a virgin to lunch. Well, we've no other choice, so the deal we'll respect. But we can't help but wonder and pause to reflect. CHORUS: Do virgins taste better than those who are not? Are they salty, or sweeter, more juicy or what? Do you savor them slowly? Gulp them down on the spot? Do virgins taste better than those who are not? Now we'd like to be shed of you, and many have tried. But no one can get thru your thick scaly hide. We hope that some day, some brave knight will come by. 'Cause we can't wait around 'til you're too fat to fly. Now you have such good taste in your women for sure, They always are pretty, they always are pure. But your notion of dining, it makes us all flinch, For your favorite entree is barbecued wench. CHORUS Now we've found a solution, it works out so neat, If you insist on nothing but virgins to eat. No more will our number ever grow small, We'll simply make sure there's no virgins at all! CHORUS 32 * A DRAGON'S RETORT (C) 1985 by Claire Stephens (Tune: "Irish Washerwoman") Well, now I am a dragon please listen to me For I'm misunderstood to a dreadful degree This ecology needs me, and I know my place, But I'm fighting extinction with all of my race But I came to this village to better my health Which is shockingly poor despite all my wealth But I get no assistance and no sympathy, Just impertinent questioning shouted at me. CHORUS: Yes, virgins taste better than those who are not But my favorite snack food with peril is fraught For my teeth will decay and my trim go to pot Yes, virgins taste better than those who are not Now we worms are deep thinkers, at science we shine And our world's complicated with every new line We must quit all the things that we've done since the flood Like lying on gold couches that poison our blood Well I'm really quite good almost all of the year Vegetarian ways are now mine out of fear But a birthday needs sweets I'm sure you'll agree And barbecued wench tastes like candy to me CHORUS As it happens our interests are almost the same For I'm really quite skillful at managing game If I messed with your men would your excess decline? Of course not, the rest would just make better time But the number of babies a woman can bear Has a limit and that's why my pruning's done there Yet an orphan's a sad sight, and so when I munch I'm careful to take out only virgins for lunch. CHORUS * 33 * DUCAL ESCALATION -Thorfinn Halfblind (Tune: "Who's Next" by Tom Leher) First we got Trelon, and that was good 'Cause we love peace and brotherhood Then Caid got Trelon, but that's OK The Balance of Power is maintained that way. Who's Next? The West got Trelon, but don't you grieve 'cause they're on our side, (I believe...) An Tir got Trelon, but have no fears... they can't beat us for at least ten years! Then Oertha claimed that they were gonna get one any day... Who's Next? Outlands makes their own, that's nice Winning Crowns at half the price! (ouch!) Calontir wants two, that's right! One for the Masters, one for the Knights! Who's Next? Midrealm's gonna get one too... just to use on you-know-who! Eastrealm's getting tense Wants one in self-defence! "The Horde's your buddy.", says the Khan But just in case.....we're gonna get Trelon! Who's Next? Lochac just went with the flow... Drachenwald's the next to go! We'll all try and stay serene and calm... When Artemisia gets Trelon... Who's Next? Who's Next? Who's NEXT?!? * 34 THE ENGLISH DRINKING SONG -Arven and Valerice Atwater (Tune: "Good Christian Men Rejoice") The English love their mead and ale They love to tell a bawdy tale Singing songs 'til early light Drink, Drink, An Englishman will drink all night. Fill his flagon over full He'll tell a tale then take a pull The English love to drink The English love to drink The wenches they like their mead too They love to see what men will do They swish their skirts, then fly away. Drink, Drink An English wench will drink all day. Fill her flagon over full She'll wink her eye, then take a pull. The English love to drink The English love to Drink When wenches wink their eyes and run The men may chase, but just for fun It's rough and tumble all night long Drink, Drink with wine and women sing a song Fill your flagon over full And pinch a tail, then take a pull The English love to drink The English love to Drink These wenches, they're a rowdy lot Drinking makes their tempers hot A jealous wench will fight 'til dawn Drink, Drink, she'll take a drink and then fight on Fill her flagon over full She'll bite and kick, then take a pull The English love to drink The English love to Drink The Englishman who drinks his fill Will in the morning be quite ill He'll fall asleep and dream 'til when Drink, Drink, the night comes and he drinks again Fill his flagon over full With bleary eyes he takes a pull The English love to drink The English love to Drink The English maid who drinks 'til morn Will wish that she had ne'er been born All day long she'll sit in bed Weep, Weep, and while weeping nurse her head Fill her flagon over full She told her tale and took a pull The English love to drink The English love to Drink * 35 * THE EYES OF NINJAS -Sta-li-Sun (Tune: "The Eyes of Texas") The eyes of Ninjas are upon you All the live long day! The eyes of Ninjas are upon you You cannot get away! You don't know that they're around you 'Til you get an arrow in the back! You won't know that they're around you 'Til -after- they attack! The eyes of Ninjas are upon you All the live long day! The eyes of Ninjas are upon you You cannot get away! Listening in to all your secrets Whether you're at work or you're at play The eyes of Ninjas are upon you Forever and a day! * * 36 * FIFTEEN MEN ON A DEAD MAN'S CHEST -Young Ewing Allison Fifteen men on a dead man's chest Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Drink and the Devil had done for the rest Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! The Mate was fixed by the bo'sun's pike, And the bo'sun brained by a marlin-spike, And the cookie's throat was marked belike! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Fifteen men of the whole ship's list, Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Dead and bedamned and their souls gone whist Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! The skipper lay with his nob in gore Where the scullion's axe his cheek had shore And the scullion he was stabbed times four! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! And there they lay, and the soggy skies Dripped ceaselessly in staring eyes By murk sunset and by foul sunrise! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Fifteen men of 'em stiff and stark, Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Ten of the crew bore the murder mark Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! 'Twas a cutlass swipe or an ounce of lead Or a gaping hole in a battered head, And the scuppers glut of a rotting red! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! And there they lay, aye, damn their eyes, Their lookouts clapped on Paradise; Their souls gone just the contrariwise! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Fifteen men of 'em good and true Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Every man Jack could have sailed with Old Pew! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! There was chest on chest of Spanish gold And a ton of plate in the middle hold And the cabin's riot of loot untold! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! And there they lay that had took the plum With sightless eyes and with lips struck dumb And we shared all by rule o'thumb! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! More was seen thru the stern light's screen Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Chartings ondoubt where a woman had been Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! (more) 37 Fifteen Men On A Dead Man's Chest (cont.) A flimsy shift on a bunker cot With a dirk slit sheer thru the bosom spot And the lace stiff-dry in a purplish rot! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Or was she wench, or shuddering maid, She dared the knife, and she took the blade; Faith, she was a plucky jade! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Fifteen men on a dead man's chest Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Drink and the Devil had done for the rest Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! We wrapped 'em all in a mainsail tight With twice ten turns of a hawser's bight And we heaved 'em over and out of sight! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! With a Yo-Heave-Ho! and a fare-thee-well, And a sudden plunge in a sudden swell; Ten fathoms along the Road To Hell! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! * This is probably -the- classic pirate song. It has many variants, but this set of words is the best I have ever seen. The tune is -creepy!- * * FOLLOW ME UP TO CARLOW -Patrick J. McCall ca. 1890 Melody dates from pre-1500's Lift Mac Cahir Og your face, brooding o'er the old disgrace That black FitzWilliam stormed your place, and drove you to the Fern Grey said victory was sure, soon the firebrand he'd secure Until he met at Glenmalure: Feach Mac Hugh O'Byrne! CHORUS: Curse and swear, Lord Kildare! Feach will do what Feagh will dare Now FitzWilliam, have a care! Fallen is your star, low! Up with halberd, out with sword! On we go, for by the Lord, Feach Mac Hugh has given his word: "Follow me up to Carlow!" See the swords of Glen Imayle, flashing o'er the English Pale! See all the children of the Gael beneath O'Byrne's banners! Rooster of the fighting stock, would you let a Saxon cock Crow out upon an Irish rock? Fly up and teach him manners! From Tassagart to Clonmore flows a stream of Saxon gore Och, great is Rory Og O'More at sending loons to Hades! White is sick and Lane is fled, now for black FitzWilliam's head! We'll send it over, dripping red, to Liza and her ladies! * 38 * FORSOOTHLY -Zenobia Napthali and Wulfgifu Wadylove of Wokyhole (Tune: "Sue Me" (from "Guys And Dolls") You never say "thou" and you never say "thee" You say "It's OK" and "please have a nice day" You contract all your phrases, swear "thunder and blazes" And mix up the cases you speak You're a man of the SCA, you should speak in a different way Listen to what I say: CHORUS: Forsoothly, forsoothly, speak well and couthly! Hark to me! You speak of your "car," you speak of your "phone" Your "system is down" your "account's overdrawn" I don't mind profanity, but this mundanity's Causing insanity here! Use some double comparisons! You're not from the garrisons! You're a man of good birth! Make consonants crisp, enunciate clear! Make tones that are round with mellifluous sound! Speak from the diaphragm, stress vowels whene'er you can Be thou a courtly man, be -- If you're speaking with poesy, all the ladies will flock to thee! It's a truth you will see! * 39 * GLENWHORPLE (THE "G" SONG) -Traditional There's a braw fine clan o' lads as ilka man should ken They are de'ils at the fichtin, they hae clured a sicht o' men They hae suppit muckle whiskey when to ceildh theu gang ben The heilan men of braw Glenwhorple. CHORUS: HEUGHT! Glenwhorple, Heilan' men, Great strong whuskey-suckin' Heilan' men They were hard-workin', hairy legged, Heilan' men, Slainte mhor, Glenwhorple. They were founded by McAdam who of all the men was first He resided in Glen Eden and he pipit fit tae burst Wi' a fig-leaf for a sporran and a perfect Heilan' thirst Till he stole away the apple from Glenwhorple When the waters o' the deluge drookit all the whole world o'er The chieftain of the clan y'know his name was Sean McNoah So a muckle boat he biggit and he sneckit up the door And he sailed away from drooned Glenwhorple McNoah sent a piper out to see if there was land He came back wi' an empty whuskey bottle in each hand But they couldna comprehend him, he was fu', ye understand For he found a public house aboon the water There was a jock named Joshua, a Sapper he by trade He went awa' to Jericho aboon a muckle raid And the walls they went a-tumblin', and with loot the lads were paid For the sappin' and the minin' in Glenwhorple. When wise King Solomon was ruler o'er the glen He had a hundred pipers and a thousand fichtin' men And ten thousand wives and concubines, for as I'm sure ye ken He kept a pow'rful household in Glenwhorple O there was a birkie bangster was the ruler o'er the clan Well his name it was t'Wallace and he was a fichtin' man And he went about the border and the Southron turned and ran From the dingin' of the claymore in Glenwhorple Many o' the clansmen went and left their heilan' home They loaded up on ships, aboot the world t'roam They were lookin' for a special place to call their very own That's how Ealdormere became Glenwhorple O what a sight this morning wi' the clan all on parade Wi' the claymore and the pipers and the braw Glenwhorple plaid And the pipey almost sober, and the chieftain no' afraid O' seein' tartan spiders in Glenwhorple REPEAT CHORUS TWICE TO END * 40 Notes on "Glenwhorple:" "Slainte mhor", pronounced "slanja vah", means "good health". Source: Songs from Front And Rear; A Collection Of Canadian Serviceman's Songs of World War Two, with the exception of Lord Cordigan D'Arnot's verse about how Ealdormere became Glenwhorple, and the verse about Sappers, which is the fault of Lord Hector of the Black Heights. * * GOD REST YE MERRY, PEASANTRY -Murphy God rest ye merry, peasantry, let nothing make you cry! Remember Yang the Nauseating, born at Kurultai! To heckle all the noblemen, and drink their cellars dry! And sing songs to annoy them all night long, all night long! And sing songs to annoy them all night long! * 41 * GOD'S OWN DRUNK AND A WELSHMAN TO BOOT -Lloyd ap Taliesin y Felinfoel Copyright (C) 1991, James Woodyatt (This is my first and favorite. To do this right, one needs to be able to play the talking-twelve-bar-blues on the guitar behind this. The chords are: E E7 A7 A7sus E E7 A7 A7sus B7 Cweirdness A7 A7sus The Cweirdness chord is produced by sliding the B7 fingering up one fret on the neck. The turnaround is done by starting at F#7, sliding down the neck one fret at a time, then: E B7 Helps to put on a fake Welsh accent while telling this story. No, really, it does... -- Lloyd) INTRO: For the last thousand years or so, the Irish and the Scots have been fighting like sailors over which one of them first discovered how to make whiskey (which is a word which comes from the old language of the Celtic Gauls... "uisce batha", the water of life). However, the truth that's been shrouded in secrecy all this time is that it was originally invented by the Welsh and given to both the Irish and the Scots to keep them where they belonged. Now, the story I'm about to tell was recently borrowed and made popular by the mundane artist Jimmy Buffet, who claims that he stole it from the late great Lord Richard Buckley... and then he even goes on to cast doubts as to whether Lord Buckley even wrote it himself. Here is the story in its original form. It describes how the Scots learned to make whiskey for themselves, and it's called "God's Own Drunk". (Begin playing a twelve-bar talking blues riff on a guitar) Now, I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm not very much of a drinking man. Because, I started drinking in a tavern in Cardiff on a Friday night and when I awoke on a Tuesday hanging in a tree somewhere near Dublin, and with my knees shaking and my teeth clattering I swore I would never do it again. But, I promised my brother Ian that I would watch his still for him whilst he went into town to drive out the Saxons... again. And, it was right up there on the side of Mount Snowdon where the map said it would be, and let me tell you, lords and ladies, that this was no ordinary still It sat up there on the mountain gleaming like a golden opal. God's little lanterns were twinkling on and off in the heavens. God's yellow moon was shining down on the cool clear evening. And, I'll say it again, I'm not very much of a drinking man... But, pretty soon.... this feeling come over me.... temptation got the best of me and I took a slash. And that Mount Snowdon whiskey going down my throat felt like honeydew vine water and I took another slash. Then, I took another.... and another, and another and pretty soon I had drank a whole jug of that whiskey and commenced to getting hot flashes. Goosepimples all running up and down my body. A feeling come over me. A feeling like I had never known before. It was like I was in love. For the nine hundred and ninety-ninth time.... that day. With anything that moved. Animate, inanimate, animal, mineral, vegetable, it didn't matter. (more) 42 God's Own Drunk (cont.) There was a great sign in the heavens that said, Lloyd.... Lloyd ap Taliesin y Felinfoel you bloody fool.... there is a great day coming.... Because I was drunk. Now, I wasn't just knee-crawling, privy-hugging, tree-climbing drunk. No.... I was God's own drunk and a fearless man. And that was when I think I first saw the Scot (do these things only seem to happen to you when you're drunk, or what?) He was a big, tall, Stuart-looking sodomite about thirty-six hands tall at the shoulders and he came a rambling up from the direction of Offa's Dyke expecting me to do one of two things: either flip or fly. And, when I didn't do either one, it hung him up. Then, he came in a little closer, expecting to smell some fear. Of course, he wasn't going to smell any fear because I was God's own drunk and a fearless man.... and a Welshman on top of that. It hung him up. Until he ate my hat just to show me that he was a cold-blooded killer. And I had just stolen that hat from a Saxon merchant not half a fortnight before and I was really put out. (Thing must have been worth at least twenty crowns....) But then he could see that my eyes were a lot redder than his were and it hung him up. So I said to him, "My lord..." That very respectful way that you say "my lord".... Like when you're in the princess's bedchambers and you're feeling pretty confident because when you came in you had three bottles of wine, two of which are now empty, the last has only got this much left in it, and it doesn't look like the flagon of whiskey that you brought just in case will even be necessary. Two of his Highness's best guards are out on the balcony with nasty lumps on the sides of their heads which should keep them asleep until after the morn. Her Highness's clothing is strewn all about the bedchambers as if a gale had passed through, and the pillows are down around the foot of the bed.... (Don't ask -- she's a saxon, isn't she?) And the prince, whom you're sure is going to be in London for another three full days.... comes through the bloody door. "My lord! Ah, your Highness, how was your journey? Good to see you back early...." And then he leans a bit on you and you say, "Please don't give me to the Captain of the Guard because when my wife finds out about this you won't have anything left of me to execute." "I only came in here because her Highness wanted to use me as a model for a doublet she sewing for you, and the very next thing I knew my teeth were caught on the front of her bodice, and I can see that I'm in trouble now.... I've got a flagon of good whiskey here." "My lord, I love every hair on your fifty-five acre Highlander back. "And I know that you've got a lot of friends over there on the other side of Culloden Moor.... Gregories and Ross and Stuarts and Kennedys and MacArthurs, MacLarens, MacLelans, MacLeans, MacLeods, MacIntosh... IBM...Mack Trucks, MacAnical, even two or three sheepish MacChluarains in there somewhere........ "And I want you to go back there tonight and tell them that I'm feeling right. "And that I love each and every one of them as much as my own brothers and sisters.... especially your sisters. (more) 43 God's Own Drunk (cont.) "But, if they give me any trouble tonight.... as much as I'll hate to do it, I'll have to run each and every God damned one of them right into the sea." Well, that's what I told him. He took a step back and didn't know what to say. Neither did I. But, being charitable and drunk, I approached him a second time and said, "You know, in the eyes of the Lord, we are both the same kind of beast when you get right down to it.... You more of a beast than me. "So, I want you to be my brother.... Brother Mack." And I led him over to the still by his cudgel shaped hand and he started sniffing around it because he smelled something good. Not surprising, Ian's still was the best in Wales. Then, before I knew it, he had tipped one of those jugs of whiskey upright and drank it right down. And let me tell you now, there is nothing more frightening in this world or any other than the sight of a nine foot tall man in a dress drinking an entire jug of whiskey in one shot.... Then, he drank another.... and another, and another, until pretty soon he had drunk eight whole jugs of that whiskey and commenced to doing the highland dance. [At this point, my friend Josh (who played the guitar for me whilst I did this) would change key and start playing Scotland the Brave (he is a Scot) and humming the tune in a nasal voice for effect all the way through the following paragraph except for the last four words.] Now the highland dance is quite simple. You have to turn to the left, kick with the right, turn to the right, kick to the left, spin all the way round, slip, fall down, snort, twist, grunt, break your nose, it was so simple, like the Caidan measure, that it completely evaded me. And after about an hour of this nonsense we had worked ourselves up into a tumultuous uproar, after which I laid myself down for some tremulous dreams. (I think the Queen of the West was in one of them... great big Norman breasts.) And when I woke up. (I didn't want to wake up.... I was.... trapped in a Spanish convent.) When I woke up.... God's little lanterns were still twinkling on and off in the heavens. God's yellow moon was still shining down on the cool clear evening. I looked around, and.... no one to be found. It seemed that my brother the Scot, was missing. And, you know what else, lords and ladies.... So was the still. (Bring down the twelve-bar talking blues riff to signal the end of the story. `Cause for some reason, without it, no one seems to know when you've finished...) * 44 * GOLDEN, GOLDEN -Andy Stewart G Bm C G Slowly, slowly, walk the path, G Em Am7 D7 And you might never stumble or fall G Bm C G Slowly, slowly walk the path, G Am7 D7 G And you might never fall in love at all CHORUS: Golden, golden is her hair Like the mornin' sun over the fields of corn. Golden, golden, flows her love, So sweet, and clean, and warm! Lonely, lonely is the heart That never another can call it's own Lonely, lonely lies the part That has to live all alone. Wildly, wildly beats the heart With a rush of love like a mountain stream Wildly, wildly, play your part As free as a wild bird's dream! * 45 * THE GREAT NORSE ROVER -Brom Blackhand (Tune: "The Irish Rover") In the White Christ's year of nine hundred and six Our flags and our sails we unfurled And we cast off at ten with a full crew of men In an effort to sack the whole world We'd a hell of a ship, thru the waves she did slip And oh how the dark wind drove her! She had one score of masts, and two thousand oars (spoken, in Cockney accent: " 'ores?" "No, stupid, the kind you ROW with!" And we called her the Great Norse Rover! We had ten million spears, and enough food for years We had three million chests for our gold We had one thousand maids for the days between raids We had two million axes, all told! We had fifty fierce cats for our thousands of rats And they battled about all over! We had ten million kegs of the best Danish mead On the decks of the Great Norse Rover! There was Ingulf the Grim, there was no fear in him There was Ivar from Novgorod town There was Floki the Light who was too scared to fight And we hoped he'd fall over and drown! There was Erik the Fool who was drunk as a rule And raisin' hell all over! And old Hrothgar the Brown, who had sacked Dublin town Was the skipper of the Great Norse Rover! We'd been five years at sea when the scurvy got bad And the ship lost her way in the fog And that hell-raisin' crew was reduced down to two It was me and the Captain's old dog (BIG dog!) Then the ship struck a rock, a hellacious BIG rock, and she almost tumbled over, And when I looked around...the poor old dog was drowned... I'm the last of the Great Norse Rover! * 46 * GREENSLEEVES II -Anonymous Alas, my lady you've done me dirt You`ve sewn green sleeves to my purple shirt And then you've done me worse than that You've made me go out and wear it Oh, Oh, what a dismal fate To be seen at events in this terrible state Oh, how I wish I could come late Say, seven ***** after it's over ***** - 1st: days, 2nd: weeks, 3rd: months, 4th: years, 5th: centuries Alas, my lady I'm born to lose You've sewn pink bows to my purple shoes You've done my hair up in waves and curls My mother thinks I'm a girl Alas, my lady why did you think My cloak would look nice in that shade of pink You've decked me over in bobbins and lace My costume's become a disgrace Alas, my lady I've been bereaved Someone's just slandered my beautiful sleeve He's questioned my taste in every way My God, he said, I must be gay Alas, my lady you've done me wrong You've made my tunic much too long You've made it seven feet, ten inches, or more.... It drags across the floor! * 47 * GILDA AND THE DRAGON -Cynthia McQuillin (Tune: "Greensleeves") Sir Loren undertook a quest the maiden Gilda seeking He found her in a dragon's bed beneath the covers peeking "What seek you here, Sir Loren dear?" the dragon asked with guile The noble knight could not but note the dragon's sated smile "Why smilest thou Lord Dragon, sir?" asked our hero in armor laden "Why you'd smile too," the worm replied, "if you'd just eaten a maiden!" "Such candor," this young lordling cried, "must touch upon dishonor!" The dragon grinned his lecherous grin and once more was upon her "Cease and desist!" Sir Loren cried, his fine steel blade a flashing "O slay him not," young Gilda cried, her voice a play of passion "Was ever a maid so tried as I betwixt desire and honor? I should demand you slay the beast but he stirs in me such ardor!" "Fie! Shame!" Sir Loren cried to her, "What foolishness is this?" "Would you deny your lord and land all for a dragon's kiss?" Intently did he search her face then frowned in deep dismay As she shed a tear for honor's sake and then sent him far away "Why smilest thou Lord Dragon, sir?" asked our hero in armor laden "Why you'd smile too," the worm replied, "If you'd just eaten a maiden!" * 48 * THE HAMSTER SONG -Chrystofer Kensor & Andrixios Seljukroctonis (Tune: "Ballad of the Green Berets") Fighting hamsters from the sky Some will live and some will die Hamsters have nothing to fear The fighting hamsters of Calontir Silver tape upon their backs A broadsword is all they lack Fifty hamsters fight a war They won't win without fifty more Trained by jumping off a roof Trained in combat tooth to tooth Hamsters fight both far and near The fighting hamsters of Calontir Riding high upon our helms Their war cry it overwhelms All opponents become weak At their fearsome squeaky squeak Back at home Paval waits His fighting hamster has met its fate He has died while drinking beer The fighting hamsters of calontir Once again its off to war This time we number a dozen more We will fight for those in need so this year it's with Caid Fighting hamsters jump from planes Fighting hamsters fall like rain Some will live but most will die Stupid creatures cannot fly * 49 * HARK THE HERALD -Tamal ibn Vakare (Tune: "Hark The Herald Angels Sing") Hark, the Herald Aelfgar screams: Don't use blues on top of greens! Or and argent, that's all right; Metals and tinctures do not fight! Use a bend, no highland plaids, Keep it simple, please, my lads! Azure, vert, purpure and gules Must follow all my herald's rules! Hark, the Herald Aelfgar screams: Don't use blues on top of greens! Hark, the Herald Aelfgar yells: Don't use cars and oil wells! Period, we beg you, please, Tygers we can draw with ease! Please don't ask for rubber bands These must pass thru Laurel's hands! We draw rampant-couchant too, But break-dancing? No can do! Hark, the Herald Aelfgar yells: Don't use cars and oil wells! * 50 * HENRY -Bertram of Bearington (Tune: "The First Noel") The first good wife that King Henry won Was his brother's queen, Cath'rine of Aragon, 'Til thoughts of incest caused him strife And he dumped her to marry a second wife... CHORUS: Six wives he had, six wives had he, With never a thought for al-i-mon-y! The second wife that King Henry did win Was a well-endowed lady named Anne Boleyn, He loved her true, she had his good word, 'Til he cut her off to marry a third... The third good wife of King Henry was fair, Gentle Jane Seymour who gave him an heir. She expired soon after, King Henry was sore, So to soothe his sad soreness he sought number four... Lady Anne of Cleves to Henry's court went, Though their bond was dis-sol-ved by common consent. Lady Anne was no dummy, she came out alive, Though the same can't be said for good wife number five... Lady Cath'rine Howard was a "generous" queen, She had "very close" friendships, if you know what I mean, But those kinds of friendships and Henry don't mix, So it's, "Good-bye, Sweet Cath'rine" - hello number six... Lady Cath'rine Parr was not par for the course. She avoided annulment, beheading, divorce... Not because she was smart or especially fine, It was just that King Henry dropped dead just in time... CHORUS: Six wives he had, six wives had he, With never a thought for al-i-mon-y! Six wives he had, six wives had he, A Renaissance gentleman - real royalty! * 51 * THE HERALD'S COMPLAINT -Baldwin of Erebor (c) Copyright 1979 by Derek Foster When I was just a pursuivant at Herald High I studied with a conscience as the days went by. I listened to the lectures and took note of every phrase, And I gave my life to learning the correct heraldic ways. But with evening come and classes close and midnight candles burnt, I would lie in bed and hearken back to all that I had learnt. And as I lay near slumber's door beneath the candle's gleam An eerie vision came to me appearing in a dream. It was a dove displayed upon a billet chequy Or and gules Between a pair of cockatrices clad in motley like a fool's, Their feather's were dimidiated with a tree eradicated, Limbed and fructed counter-compony. Beside the field of honor at a tournament I was resting from my labors in the heralds' tent When my reverie was broken by a newly belted knight Who had come for some assurance that his coat of arms was right. I sat him down and talked to him about simplicity, And shared with him the good advice that had been taught to me. "My Lord," he said, "my thanks to thee. You really have been kind. Now let me tell you of the coat of arms I have in mind." I want a dove displayed upon a billet chequy Or and gules Between a pair of cockatrices clad in motley like a fool's, Their feather's were dimidiated with a tree eradicated, Limbed and fructed counter-compony. Your blazon is impossible was my response. It's so complex the college would reject it at the nonce. It breaks the rules of heraldry. It can't be done you see, Besides the arms you've blazoned have been registered to me. I have a dove displayed upon a billet chequy Or and gules Between a pair of cockatrices clad in motley like a fool's, Their feather's were dimidiated with a tree eradicated, Limbed and fructed counter-compony. And these are the arms that belong to me. * 52 * THE HOLY GROUND -Traditional Fare thee well my lovely Dinah, a thousand times adieu For we're going away from the holy ground and the girls we all love true We will sail the salt seas over and we'll return for sure, To see again the girls we love, and the holy ground once more! CHORUS: (shout:) FINE GIRL YOU ARE! You're the girl I do adore! And still I live in hopes to see The holy ground once more (shout:) FINE GIRL YOU ARE! And now the storm is raging and we are far from shore The poor old ship is tossing about and the rigging is all torn And the secret of my mind my love, you're the girl I do adore And still I live in hopes to see the holy ground once more! And now the storm is over and we are safe and well We'll go into a public house and sit and drink our fill We will drink strong ale and porter, and we'll make the rafters roar And when our money is all spent we will go to sea once more! * HO RO MY NUT BROWN MAIDEN -Traditional CHORUS: Ho ro, my nut brown maiden! Ho ro, my nut brown maiden! Ho ro, ro. maiden! For she's the maid for me! Her eye so mildly beamin' And since from thee I parted Her look so frank and free A long and weary while In wakin' and in dreamin' I wander, heavy hearted, Is ever more with me! With longin' for thy smile Oh, Mary, mild eyed Mary The face with kindness glowin' By land or on the sea, The face that hides no guile Though time and tide may vary, The light grace of thy goin' My heart beats true to thee! The witchcraft of thy smile! With thy fair face before me Mine eyes that never vary How sweetly flew the hour From pointin' tae the glen When all thy beauty o'er me Where blooms my Highland Mary Came streamin' in its' power! Like wild rose 'neath the ben And when with blossoms laden Bright summer comes again, I'll fetch my nut brown maiden Down from the bonny glen! * 53 * I AM A DANE -Gwyneth Espicier (Tune: "I Am A Rock") Out at sea Don't talk of fear In a dragon-prowed warship I've heard the word before I am alone But never quite understood Thinking of the plunder What it meant I will get today I've never feared a foeman As I rape and burn I just hack them in two And pillage on my way If you're in my path I am a Dane I'll probably kill you I am a-viking! I am a Dane! I am a-viking! I built this ship I have my charms To carry me to England And Odin to protect me! From there to France and Germany I have my shield and my armor! There I will raze hamlets Riding in my scow Towns and cities, too! Standing in the prow I'll make your village I dream of standing One big barbeque! Ankle-deep in blood! I am a Dane I am a Dane I am a-viking! I am a-viking! And a Dane feels no pain. And a Viking -never- cries. * 54 * THE 'I AM NOT A NINJA POLKA' -Mary Porath and several others! When you travel thru the Laurel Kingdoms, A melody will greet your ears; It's a song that's been around the Kingdoms For what seems like twenty-five years! Oh..... Each and every canton dances to the strain Of the 'I Am Not A Ninja' Polka! All without exception join in the refrain! Of the 'I Am Not A Ninja' Polka! We all think that Mongols are something we should thrash Sing the 'I Am Not A Ninja' Polka! And we all thought the Snake Pit was just a place to crash! Sing the 'I Am Not A Ninja' Polka! The Kingdoms is so peaceful, we love each other so! Rebellion is the -last- thing on our minds! We don't attend 'post-revels' and really do believe That the whole Dark Horde should stick with their own kind! I never read a handout, or said 'The King's a fink!' Sing the 'I Am Not A Ninja' Polka! spoken: Is that not a Khanate Kit? That is not a Khanate Kit! sung: I am not a ninja polka! spoken: Did you not help write this song? I did not help write this song! sung: I am not a ninja polka! spoken: Did you not tell Yang our plan? I did not tell.....Yang who? Yang who??!! Yeah, Yang who? Should I know him? Is he a Duke? Well.....he was....... sung: A little man, very lean, very loud and brash Always smiled, laughed a lot, scrawny black moustache! He's the one, clapped his hands, went into a dance, When the news came to him: Eodred's in France! He's the one, Christmas time, told the Baronies: "To you the battles, tomorrow to me!" Tomorrow to me! Tomorrow belongs to...*... spoken: I never heard of him. Me either! sung: To our Caidan allies, let us drink a toast! Sing the 'I Am Not A Ninja' Polka! Sure there are some Mongols, two or three...at most! Sing the 'I Am Not A Ninja' Polka! (more) 55 The I Am Not A Ninja Polka (cont.) We all conduct ourselves in a European way, We never pay ourselves when we can borrow! We don't like Irish whiskey and really do believe That the whole Dark Horde will bring us all to sorrow To sorrow, to sorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow! Tomorrow! To.... spoken: Whoops! sung: We are all quite loyal as subjects to the King Sing the 'I Am Not A Ninja' Polka! And we do not approve of the songs the Hordemen sing! Sing the 'I Am Not A Ninja' Polka! spoken: Wait a minute! Wait a minute! No, no, you are not singing! Perhaps you do not -like- to sing? No? You have relatives in East Lansing, Michigan, perhaps? You will sing! sung: Sing the 'I am not a ninja polka!' WATSU! spoken: I dunno, whatsu with you? * 56 * I LIKE TO BE IN THE SCA -Anonymous (Tune: "I Like To Be In America" from "West Side Story") Mundane life -- you ugly life So full of trouble and strife Always the price of gas growing Always the radiation glowing And the money owing And the muggers mauling And the Skylab falling I like the era Medieval Strange food, and strange clothes...and strange people! I like to be in the SCA Living in Caid is so nice OK by me in the SCA It is a kingdom without vice Everything's free in the SCA Such is the tragedy of fame For a small fee in the SCA! Heralds will mispronounce your name! You can be fed in the SCA Lots of new Kingdoms with more space You can be dead in the SCA Lots of swords smashing in your face All is co-ed in the SCA Our fighter are always the best Twelve to a bed in the SCA? Kicking the s*** out of the West! Life can be bright in the SCA Here you can make many wise cracks If you can fight in the SCA Long as you do pay your pun-tax Everything's right in the SCA Everyone here dresses formal If you're a knight in the SCA! Whether they're tall or they're normal! Checking your gear in the SCA I think I'll go back to mundanes Front to the rear in the SCA Dungeons and Dragons and Wargames! No need to fear in the SCA Everyone there will give a big cheer Plenty of beer in the SCA! Everyone there will then be here! Dragons I'll slay in the SCA! Hip Hip Hooray for the SCA! Everyone's gay in the SCA? I think I'll stay in the SCA.... * 57 * THE INCEST SONG -Buffy St. Marie Word is up to the lord's fair daughter And word is spreading all over the land That she's been betrayed by her own dearest brother And he has chosen another's fair hand Many a man had sung of her beauty And many a bold deed for her had been done But within her sides she carries the child Of her father's eldest fairest son Tell me no lies, I'll hear no more stories But saddle my horse and I'll go and see My own true love and if these words prove true ones They will be the end of me Brother, o brother, what lies be these ones They say that thy love to another I'll lose I carry a babe of thy own proud lineage And I know that it's I that thou wouldst choose Hast thou told our mother or father All that thou hast said unto me And he's taken off his good beaten sword Hanging down by his left knee No, I've not told no one but thee love For it is a secret between me and thee I would come home and quit all my roaming And spend my days in waiting on thee Too late, too late for words, my sister Father has chosen for me a fair bride And he's stabbed her easy and lovingly laid her Down in her grave by the black water side And then he's gone home to his wedding And his father's asked him why weepest thou so Such a bride I've seen on this bright spring morning Never another man shall know * 58 * I SEE THAT YOU'RE A MONGOL -Anonymous One day as I was bathing By a small secluded stream A maiden came from hiding And spoke these words to me: I see that you are a Mongol And used to wars and strife; For no one but a Mongol Would go bathing with a knife! I once had a Mongol lover His name was Bork, they say: If you'd put kumiss on it He'd eat a bale of hay! And everybody listened Though quietly he talked Because he carried so much steel That he glittered when he walked! He was handy in a bedroom And deadly in a fight But the thing that made him famous Was his humongous appetite! He could down a turkey Without a gulp or sigh And polish off a side of beef And still have room for pie! The things he'd stuff his mouth with Would make a maggot gag I swear he'd make a banquet of A pile of oily rags! He said he needed lots of fuel To stoke his brawny power It seems they had to feed him Every hour on the hour! One night he said, "I'm hungry!" I was sleepy but I tried I fed him fifteen minutes late, And he shriveled up and died! And so I lost my lover And so I pledged my life To wait here for some Mongol to Go bathing with his knife! * 59 * ISN'T IT GRAND TO BE KING -Lloyd ap Taliesin y Felinfoel With a few additions by Ioseph of Locksley Copyright (C) 1991, James Woodyatt (Tune: "Isn't It Grand Boys") Look at the thrones Great silver crescents CHORUS: Isn't it grand, boys To be bloody well King Let's not have an arts tea Let's wake the bloody whole town And always remember the longer you reign The sooner you give up the crown Look at the Chivalry Look at the Barons Bloody great hypocrites All bloody useless! (CHORUS) (CHORUS) Look at the L.O.C. Look at the Dark Horde All bloody withering Smelly old Mongols! (CHORUS) (CHORUS) Look at the Pelicans Look at the Revel Bloody sanctimonious All bloody BORING! (CHORUS) (CHORUS) Look at the Laurels Look at the Peerage Bloody great females! Bowing and scraping! (CHORUS) (CHORUS) Look at the Cavaliers All bloody faggots! (CHORUS) Look at the Duchesses Four hundred pounds worth! (CHORUS) * 60 * JENNY LASS (JOHNNY LAD) I bought a wife in Edinburgh for a bawbee And then I got a farthing back to buy tobacco wi'! CHORUS: And wi' you, and wi' you, and wi' you my Jenny lass I'll dance the buckles off my shoes wi' you my Jenny lass! Samson was a mighty man, and he fought wi' a cuddie's jaw He fought a million battles wearin' crimson flannel drawers! There was a man in Nineveh, and he was wondrous wise He jumped into a hawthorn bush and scratched out both his eyes! And when he saw his eyes were out, with all his might and main, He jumped into the hawthorn bush, and scratched them in again! Napoleon was an emperor, he ruled o'er land and sea, He ruled o'er France and Germany, but he never ruled over me! One Sunday I went walkin' and there I saw the Queen Playin' at the football wi' the lads on Glascow Green! The captain of the other side was scorin' in great style The Queen she called a policeman, and had him thrown in jail! Jenny is a bonny lass, she is a lass of mine And I've never had a better lass, and I've had fifty-nine! * 61 * JOHNNY MC ELDOO There was Johnny McEldoo, and McGee, and me And a coupla two or three, went on a spree one day. We had a bob or two, which we knew how to blew And the beer and whiskey flew and we all felt gay! We visited McMann's, MacIllman's, Humpty Dan's, We then went into Swann's our stomachs for to pack, We ordered out a feed which indeed we did need And we finished it with speed, but we still felt slack! Johnny McEldoo turned red, white and blue, And a plate of Irish stew he soon put out of sight He shouted out "Encore!" with a roar for some more Said he'd never felt before such a keen appetite He ordered eggs and ham, bread and jam, what a cram! But him we couldn't ram tho we tried our level best For everything we brought, cold or hot, mattered not It went down him like a shot, but he still stood the test! He swallowed tripe and lard by the yard, we got scared We thought it would go hard when the waiter brought the bill We told him to give o'er, but he swore he could lower Twice as much again and more before he had his fill He nearly supped a trough full of broth, says McGrath: "He'll devour the tablecloth if you don't hold him in!" When the waiter brought the charge McEldoo felt so large He began to scowl and barge and his blood went on fire! He began to curse and swear, tear his hair in despair, And to finish the affair called the shopman a liar! The shopman he drew out and no doubt he did clout McEldoo he kicked about like an old football! He tattered all his clothes, broke his nose, I suppose He'd have killed him with a few blows in no time at all! McEldoo began to howl and to growl by my sowl He threw an empty bowl at the shopkeeper's head It struck poor Micky Finn, peeled the skin off his chin And the ructions did begin, and we all fought and bled! The peelers did arrive, man alive! Four or five, At us they made a drive for us all to march away We paid for all the mate that we ate, stood a trate, And went home to reminate on the spree that day! * 62 * KILLIECRANKIE 27 July, 1689 Where hae ye been sae braw, lad? Where hae ye been sae brankie-o? Where hae ye been sae braw lad? Cam' ye by Killiecrankie-o? Chorus: An ye had been where I had been Ye wad na been sae cantie-o An ye had seen what I had seen On the braes of Killiecrankie-o! I fought at land, I fought at sea, Oh fie, MacKay, what gart ye lie At home I fought my Auntie-o; I' the bush ayont the brankie-o But I met the devil, and Dundee, Ye'd better kiss King Willie's loof, On the braes of Killiecrankie-o! Than come tae Killiecrankie-o! The bold Pictur fell in a furr, It's nae shame, it's nae shame, And Clavers got a clankie-o, It's nae shame t'shank ye-o Or had I fed an Atholl gled, There's sour slaes on Atholl braes, On the braes of Killiecrankie-o! And the De'il at Killiecrankie-o! * 63 * KING OF THE SPODES -Yehuda (Tune: "King Of The Road") Chain mail for sale or rent.... Helms to let 60 pence. No mace, no sword, no shield....Oh lord which way is the field? I spent 2 hours in inspection lines, for my 8 and 12 foot poles, NO LIE! I'm the guy they call cannon fodder......... King of the Spode. I've got old armour, handed down.. It spent 2 years on the ground. The old gambeson's all torn up.....Oh lord did I wear my cup? They said, lead the charge....that`s for me. In the fray, I killed a tree. I'm the, guy they call cannon fodder.....King of the Spode. BRIDGE: I know ev-ery mud hole on ev-e-ry field. When I'm carried off on a shield. And every fighter that knocked me down.. and every chi-ur-geon for miles around.... They scream, hear ye! it's the grand melee. Held a bridge for the King today. Then a monster gave a yell .....let's use him for a pell! Well I've got armour for sale or rent. Dented helm, 20 pence. No mace, no sword, no shield...they`re broken out on the field. I spent 2 hours in the first aid tent. Walking slow and rather bent. I'm the guy, they call cannon fodder....King of the Spode I'm the guy, they call cannon fodder, King of the Spode. * 64 * KIRBY'S IRON HAMMER -orig. by Thorsen Danske with new words by Ioseph of Locksley (Tune: "Maxwell's Silver Hammer") Knights get violent when our swords are si-o-lent Raiding we must go! Summer on the march on a pony, o-oh oh oh oh! Autumn coming home again, weapons broke and worn again Need to be repaired Off we go to Kirby the Blacksmith's fo-o-o-rge! And as we reach the home of the smith, a noise comes to our ears! CHORUS: Bang, bang, Kirby's iron hammer came down upon the sword! Clang, clang, Kirby's iron hammer made sure that it was forged! Back to the sea again, plundering and free again My axe fell overboard So I'll have to get me another ma-a-a-ade! Raiding down the coast again, hacking at the foes again My broadsword broke in two We don't have SuperGlue so I'll have to go-o-o-o! That is what you get when you don't buy from Kirby's forge! West to Angle-land, sailing with a viking band Danegeld to recieve Taking thousands of pounds of silver ho-o-o-ome! Hiring an army now, take along an ox and plow Land there will be ours! Kirby's gonna bring along his for-o-o-orge! Saxons couldn't stop us at all, as the sound rings out again! * 65 * LAEGHAIRE THE SILVER MERLIN -Morgianne du Provence For the great Gaels of Ireland are the men the gods made mad For all their wars are merry and all their songs are sad Laeghaire the Silver Merlin left Ireland one day For to seek his merry fortune and to earn a soldier's pay For to kiss the loveliest maidens and steal the greatest treasures To win a crown and a King's renown and all a kingdom's pleasures So he travelled swift through England but tarried long in France He learned to woo the ladies they taught him how to dance But his greatsword Stormfollower grew restless in its sheath He longed for gold and deeds so bold and battles on the heath So he rode away to battle and he left the ladies weeping And followed the wars to Scotland while Provence was lost in sleeping Fought beside the Mongol horde friendship warm there finding Blood brotherhood with all men good he swore them to him binding His greatsword and winged helm were known in many lands many were his deeds of war and bloody were his hands But at last of battle wearying he bid farewell to war He turned his steed toward pleasant meads and returned to France once more For the great Gaels of Ireland are the men the gods made mad For all their wars are merry and all their songs are sad * * LASSIE LIE NEAR ME -Traditional Lang have we parted been, lassie my dearie Now we are met again, lassie lie near me Near me, near me, lassie my dearie Lang hast thou lain alane, lassie lie near me All that I have endured, lassie my dearie In your arms it is cured, lassie lie near me Near me, near me, lassie my dearie Lang hast thou lain alane, lassie lie near me If in the spring we meet, lassie my dearie All joy will be near me, lassie lie near me Near me, near me, lassie my dearie Lang hast thou lain alane, lassie lie near me * * 66 * LASSIE WI' THE YELLOW COATIE (Chorus) Lassie wi' the yellow coatie Would y'wed a muirland Jockie? Lassie wi' th' yellow coatie Would y'busk and gang wi' me? I have milk and meal in plenty Wi' my lassie and my doggie I have kale and cakes fu' dainty O'er th' lea and thru the boggie I've a but-an-ben fu' genty Nane on earth was e'er sae vogie But I lack a lass like thee! Or as blythe as we will be! Although my mailen be but sma' Haste ye, lassie, tae my bosom And little gold I have t'shaw While the roses are in blossom! I hae a heart without a flaw Time is precious; dinna lose them An' I will gie it all t'thee! Flowers will fade, and sae shall ye (Final Chorus) Lassie wi' the yellow coatie Ah! Take pity on your Jockie! Lassie wi' the yellow coatie I'm in haste, and sae should ye! * 67 * THE LAY OF THE WOODSMAN AND THE WARRIOR -Li Kung Lo (c) copyright 1985 Richard Munroe Come sit beside me wayfarer, and charge my cup with ale And for this company withal, I'll sing to thee a tale Of how the greatest knight of all was stricken and laid low By a single peasant *armed only with a bow* (repeat * -->* ) On Beltane eve he hied him on, the sun was sinking low To Kent he rode upon such whims as ye may never know The finest mail upon his back, a seasoned fighting man He chanced upon a stream there crossed *by a narrow span* Upon that bridge there stood a boy who blocked the great knight's way In wonderment this errant knight heard what this lad did say "Go back Sir knight, seek other ways, wherever they may lie Thou may not pass, and if thou try me,*thou wilt surely die"* "Oh churlish knave," the knight replied, "thy life I would not have And I will spare thee, foolish boy, for thou art passing brave A squire I would make of thee, to take up sword and shield But an thou will not, say thy prayers, for *you must die or yield*" "I serve no man, the rogue called back, I am and will stay free But know, good knight, that ne'er a soul has had the best o' me To serve the Lady of this wood is my thought and deed This stout long bow and but one shaft is *all that I shall need*" "Then arm thyself," the horseman cried, "but sure to no avail For shaft or bolt was never made that will pierce this mail" He brandished sword and spurred his steed, his shield battle-dressed The knave let fly and found his mark, *full upon the breast* Upon that bridge in dark of night, awakened with a start The knight reached down where goose fletched shaft had pierced him to the heart His mail was rent, and yet no wound appeared upon his breast But eldritch scar remained there and *bespoke the woodsman's jest* The knave was gone but not his shaft, that he had left behind And yet his parting words remained still in the good knight's mind "I have bested thee, Sir knight, and killed thee right and clean Remember, when thou cast thine eyes *upon King Arthur's queen"* No other knight in all the land could match him on the field No stronger arm throughout the realm a great broadsword did wield Against a stripling's clothyard shaft, his arms availed him not An arrow loosed from Eros' bow *had felled Sir Lancelot* So hearken to my tale, me boys, and learn this lesson well There is no man alive that Cupid's arrow cannot fell So try not arms with Faerie Folk, clothed in mortal guise And beware the shafts of Eros' bow, *within a woman's eyes* * 68 LEWIS BRIDAL SONG (Marie's Wedding) Stap we gaily, on we go, heel for heel and toe for toe, Arm in arm and roe on roe, all for Marie's Wedding! Over hillways up and down, myrtle green and bracken brown Past the shielin', thru the town, all for sake of Marie Red her cheeks as rowans are, brighter far than any star, Fairest o' them a', by far, is m'darlin' Marie! Plenty herring, plenty meal, plenty peat to fill her creel, Plenty bonnie bairns as weel, that's the toast for Marie! * LIVELY LASS -Sumer Redmane (Tune: "Gypsy Rover" A lively lass stepped out onto the field Wearing her helm and armor She fought long and she fought hard And it did not seem to harm her She had a strong and a sturdy arm She swung her sword most sincerely Before too long she'd won a fight She'd won the battle most clearly One day in battle she met a man A man who'd won the crown And when the battle was done that day Twas he who was lying down But Ironsteed spoke and declared the truth That women were not able They'r much too weak and frail to fight Except in song and fable The people then were most enraged To think that he would label A fighter who could beat Longshanks Nothing but a fable Up spoke the people both great and small Of lowly birth and gentle If Ironsteed thinks he can stop her now He's much too tempermental Then Longshanks spoke and then he said Strange that a fable seems so real Perhaps Ironsteed would learn a lot If he the blows could feel So those who think women should not fight But should be knitting instead Are seeking differences on the field That should be found in bed! 69 * LOCAL S.C.A. (Tune: "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen") Arrest these merry gentles, nay, it would be so unkind, If you'll but wait a moment, sir, we will relieve your mind. We are not escaped lunatics, so kindly us unbind, For we are your local S C A, SCA, For we are your local S C A. These men aren't wearing dresses, sir, Those are not pantyhose. No, those are tights and tunics, sir, They are medieval clothes. And men were really macho then, As everybody knows, So please do not look upon us that way, that way. For we are your local S C A. We recreate past ages, sir, And that is all we do. Please give our swords and knives to us, We'd like our axes, too. Return us all our weapons, sir, The act you will not rue, For we mostly use them for display, display. For we are your local S C A. We really are not dangerous Although we like to fight. We do it on a tourney field, You see, so it's all right. And we wear lots of armour, too, Like any noble knight, And use our wooden sticks to whale away, whale away, For we are your local S C A. Oh, we pavanne in public, sir, The horse bransle do, also. Full many a fine feast attend And to a revel go. And all that night we sing and drink, For free the mead doth flow, Then drive four hundred miles the next day, the next day. For we are your local S C A. We have a King and Prince who do Our loyalty command This is Three Rivers Barony, The finest in the land. And we are on our way to court,But not the one you planned. Oh, please let us go upon our way, our way. For we are your local S C A. Arrest these merry gentles, nay, Discretion you should use. For we are lords and ladies, sir, So