1204 lines
44 KiB
Plaintext
1204 lines
44 KiB
Plaintext
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GENERAL SCA SONGS BY VARIOUS AUTHORS
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-transcribed by Ioseph of Locksley
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*
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BOLD SIR ROBIN
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-Monty Python
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"Bravely bold Sir Robin
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Brought forth from Camelot
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He was not afraid to die
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Brave, bold Sir Robin
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He was not at all afraid
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To be killed in nasty ways
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Brave, brave, brave, brave Sir Robin....
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He was not in the least bit scared
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To be mashed into a pulp
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Or to have his eyes gouged out
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And his elbows broken
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To have his kneecaps split
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And his body burned away
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And his limbs all hacked and mangled
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Brave Sir Robin.....
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His head smashed in and his heart cut out
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And his liver removed and his bowels unplugged
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And his nostrils raped and his bottom burnt up
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And his penis ....."
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*
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A GRAZING MACE
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-Anonymous
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tune: "Amazing Grace"
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verses 1-5 by Skald-Brandr Toralfsson
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verse 6 is the original anonymous creation
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A grazing mace, how sweet the sound, that felled my foe for me
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I bashed his head, he struck the ground, and thus came victory
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My mace has taught my foes to fear, that mace my fear relieved
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How precious did my mace appear, when I my mace received
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Through many tourneys wars and fairs, I have already come
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My mace has brought me safe thus far, my mace will bring me home
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The King has promised good to me, his word my hope secures
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I will his shield and weapon be, when he gives me my spurs
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And when my mace my foeman nails, that mortal strife shall cease
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And we'll possess within our pale, a life of joy and peace
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A grazing mace, how sweet the sound that flattened a wretch like thee!
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whose head is flat, that once was round done in by my mace....and me!
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*
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*
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TOMORROW BELONGS TO ME!
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-Anonymous (Western Irgun version)
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tune: "Tomorrow Belongs To Me" (from "Cabaret")
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The sands of the Gobi lie gold in the Sun
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the Warriors and Herdsmen ride free
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But somewhere a voice calls: "Move on, Move on!"
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Tomorrow belongs to me!
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Ride westward, my children, new pastures are green
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Rich cities encircle the Sea
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'Tis time for your Glory, so rise, and sing:
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Tomorrow belongs to me!
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The Outlands have grown too confused to defend
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The West has her back to the Sea
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The East and the Middle are weak from War
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Tomorrow belongs to me!
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Meridies weakens from internal strife
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Caid is her own enemy!
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And young Ansteorra's a babe-in-arms
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Tomorrow belongs to me!
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Ride westward my children, we'll show them a sign
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United we'll always be free!
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the morning shall come when the world is MINE!
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Tomorrow belongs to me!
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Oh Father-of-Kingdoms, come, show us the sign
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Your children have waited to see:
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The morning shall come when the World is MINE!
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Tomorrow belongs to me!
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*
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*
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BIG AXE
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-Ragnar Morkwulf
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-last two verses: Ioseph of Locksley
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tune: "Big Iron" (Marty Robbins)
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"Ghost Riders In The Sky"
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To the land of Ansteorra sailed a Viking one fine day
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He rowed right up the river to Bjornsberg, so they say
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No one dared to ask the reason why he came into this land
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For the Viking there among them had a Big Axe in his hand.
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It was halfway to September when he swaggered into town
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He came striding from the Southside, slowly looking all around
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"He's a Viking out for plunder!" came the whisper from each man
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"And he's here to do some mischief with that Big Axe in his hand!"
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Now in this town there was a Norman, by the name of Jean-Eclair
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He was foppish, and a dandy, and wore perfume in his hair!
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But he was somewhat more than vicious with the rapier at his side
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And the many men who faced him were the many men who died.
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Now the Norman's skill at wenching was a scandal in the land
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and a milkmaid (or a Duchess) were like putty in his hand
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He would use them for his pleasure and then send them home in shame
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And their menfolk greatly trembled at the mention of his name.
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Now the Viking started talking, made it plain to folks around
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That he'd come to wreak his vengance on the Norman in the town
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Jean-Eclair had bed his sister, and no bride-price had he paid
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And he'd sent her back to Norway slightly after she'd been laid....
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The Norman merely chuckled when this story he did hear
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He sharpened up his rapier - threw down another beer
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Forty vengance-seeking brothers he had slain - unto the man!
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forty-one would be this Viking with the Big Axe in his hand...
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The morning passed by quickly, then 'twas time for them to meet
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Wearing puffs and slashes, Jean-Eclair stood in the street
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The Viking, dressed in leather, and with furs upon his frame
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Was the object of the snobbish Norman's obvious disdain
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"I remember now your sister," said the Norman with a smile
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"You have similar taste in fashion, and no sense at all of style.
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I would rather slay your tailor, but I'll kill you where you stand
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You won'[t even have a chance to use that Big Axe in your hand!"
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"I sailed all da vay vrom Norway," said the Viking with a sneer
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"Not to enter fashion shows; for you would win, I fear.
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I come here to find a dog, whose blood I vowed to spill
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But it pleases me to see that you are dressed so - for to kill!"
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Jean-Eclair glared at the Northman with a face turned scarlet-red
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His honour would not let him rest till Viking blood was shed
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Townsfolk watched them from the windows - everybody held their breath
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They knew this tacky Viking was a hand away from Death.
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* more *
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Big Axe (cont.)
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The Norman started forward, shining Murder in his hand,
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The Mistrels say the battle was the swiftest in the land
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Rapier'd barely cleared it's scabbard when the Axe came crashing down
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And the Norman toppled over, with the Big Axe for a Crown...
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It was over in a moment, and the folks all gathered round
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There before them lay the body of the Norman on the ground
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He had planned to go on living - never thought of lying dead
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But it's kinda hard to think when there's a Big Axe in your head!
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But then the fop took off his hat, and grinned, and softly said
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"Beneath these plumes I wear an iron cap upon my head!"
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And with an evil grin he pulled a pistol with a sigh
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And shot the great big Northman square between his beady eyes!
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So remember all you armoured folk, and think upon it well:
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There's lots of different ways to die; there's different ways to hell
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You might be big and hairy, on the side of Truth and all
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God makes Norsemen big and strong: Friar Bacon makes 'em small!
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*
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HARP SONG OF THE DANE WOMEN
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-Rudyard Kipling
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tune by Ioseph of Locksley
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What is a woman that you forsake her?
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and the hearth fire, and the home-acre?
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to go with the old, grey Widow-Maker?
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She has no house to lay a guest in
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but one chill bed for all to rest in
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that the pale suns and the stray bergs nest in
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She has no strong white arms to fold you
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but the ten times fingering weeds to hold you
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out on the rocks where the tide has rolled you
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Yet, when the signs of Summer thicken
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and the ice breaks and the birch-buds quicken
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yearly you turn from our side and sicken
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Sicken again for the shouts and the slaughters
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you steal away to the lapping waters
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and look at your ship in her winter quarters
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You forget our mirth, and talk at the tables
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the kine in the shed and the horse in the stables
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to pitch her sides and go over her cables...
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Then you drive out where the storm clouds swallow
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and the sound of your oar-blades, falling hollow
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is all we have left through the months to follow
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Ah...but what is a woman that you forsake her?
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and the hearth fire, and the home-acre?
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to go with the old, grey Widow-maker?
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*
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THE SCA HAPPY BIRTHDAY SONG
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tune: "Volga Boatmen"
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Happy Birthday! (UHH!) Happy Birthday! (UHH!)
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Death and gloom and black despair
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People dying everywhere
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Happy Birthday! (UHH!) Happy Birthday! (UHH!)
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Now you are the age you are Fear and gloom and darkness but
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Your demise cannot be far no one found out YOU KNOW WHAT
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May the candles on your cake You're a period cook, its true
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burn like cities in your wake ask the beetles in the stew
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Burn the Castle and storm the keep Now your jail-bait days are done
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Kill the Women but SAVE THE SHEEP! let's go out and have some fun!
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May your deeds with sheep and yaks You must marry very soon
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equal those with sword and axe baby's due the next full moon
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Your servants steal, your wife's untrue Were I sitting in your shoes
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Your children plot to murder you I'd go out and sing the blues
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They stole your gold, your sword, your house Tho you're turning 29
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They stole your sheep, but not your spouse age to you is like fine wine
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so you're 29 again Now you've lived another year
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don't tell lies to your good friend age to you is like stale beer
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So another year has passed Long ago your hair turned grey
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don't look now they're gaining fast! now it's falling out, they say
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Black Death has just struck your town It's your birthday never fear
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you yourself feel quite run-down You'll be dead this time next year
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We brought linen, white as cloud
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Now we'll sit and sew your shroud! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
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*
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*
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THE ANACHRONISTIC LOVER
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Author unknown (orig. SCA East Kingdom?)
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tune: "The Frozen Logger"
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As I sat down one evening
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'twas in a wayside Inn
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a forty year old barmaid came
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and whispered by my chin
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I see that you're an Anachronist
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and not just some modern jerk
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for no one but an Anachronist
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stirs coffee with a Dirk
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I once loved an Anachronist
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there's none like him today
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he kissed me in a haystack once
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and burned up all the hay
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he never shaved a whisker
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from off his horny hide
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he'd just drive them in with a war-mace
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and then bite them off inside
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He never shaved a whisker
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until his helm was full
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and the device upon his shield
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bespoke a wild bull
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He vowed to me one evening
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no maidens were my peers
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he went off to prove his point
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and he's been gone TEN YEARS...!
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and so I lost my lover
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and in this Inn I work
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and sit and wait for someone
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to stir coffee with a Dirk....
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*
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*
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THE BALLAD OF THE THREE KINGS
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-Sir Bela of Eastmarch
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copyright 1980 Poul Anderson
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Three Kings rode out on the road to Hell
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ravens flew on the gale
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the night wind rang like an iron bell
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and hissed with sleet and hail
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three Kings rode out thru the Gates of Hell
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and on to Death's Highway
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the King of the Britons
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the King of the Huns
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and the King of Nor-o-way!
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And the King of the Britons was helmed with gold
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and rode a stallion white
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"Oh all men go when they are cold
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but I go not in fright!
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A goodly King who loved his Folk
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and guarded them with the rod....
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and stake...and gallows....against themselves
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will surely go to God!"
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And the King of the Huns was helmed in steel
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and rode a stallion red
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"Oh fiercely proud my fathers feel
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of me, who crowned my head
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halfway round a world in pain,
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which I did mightily win
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and surely I go to my Father's Fane
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and not to the evil Djinn!"
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And the King of Norway was helmed with wings
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and rode a stallion grey
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"Truly proud my heart now feels
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Odin gets me today!
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I died in bed, ah, but first I hung
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full many a squealing thrall
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from Odin's Tree. With Rune on tongue
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I go now to Odin's Hall!"
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Three Kings rode out thru the depths of Hell
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with a bloody-breasted Hound
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that howls above black rivers that run
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icy beneath the ground
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Three Kings a Final Judgement won
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from the High God's lips that day:
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The Devil took the Briton,
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the Djinni took the Hun,
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and Hell took Nor-o-way!
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*
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*
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THE CAUSES OF REBELLION: LIE, LIE TO THE COUNCIL
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-Astra of the Grey Shadows
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copyright 1974 Ann Cass
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orig. tune: "Retreat Along The Wabash"
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a period tune has been written by Ioseph of Locksley
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Tell the truth to a Lord you trust
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MORE truth to a Lord you hate!
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Lie to a Lady, if lie you must,
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but since the Lords live far away
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and will not heed what the people say:
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Lie, Lie, Lie to the Council! Lie to the Heads of State!
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Where the low hills sit by the foggy Bay
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and the ground all shakes with fire
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the High Lords sit in Council today
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let them consider the Price they pay
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for calling a man a liar!
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With a title comes a certain power
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and a much more certain schooling
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a child may play in a castle tower
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but the Lord who does soon sees the hour
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He hasn't a Land worth ruling.
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For there isn't a man but has his doubts
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of the worth of those that rule him
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but the good ones he will not turn out
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unless he finds he's pushed about
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or he thinks they're trying to fool him
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there's many a man in the Lands of the East
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and a few in the West and Middle
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who hold a Lord sits LAST to Feast
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thinks FIRST of his men, their Lands and beasts
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and THEN of his Pride....a little.
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Now, what a man says, and what a man does
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are controlled by Laws and Reason;
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but half the cause of all men's fights:
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what one man calls his Natural Rights
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another man may call Treason!
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So take care all you who sit in State
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take care when you come to judge
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the cost of a word in anger is great
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but greater still, in lasting Hate,
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is the cost of holding a grudge!
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So..tell the Truth to a Lord you trust,
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MORE truth to a Lord you hate!
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Lie to a Lady, if lie you must,
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but since the Lords live far away
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and will not heed what the people say...
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LIE! LIE! LIE TO THE COUNCIL! LIE TO THE HEADS OF STATE!
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*
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*
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THE REAL OLD TIME RELIGION
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-only a few of the verses...
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tune: "Old Time Religion"
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(Chorus): Give me that real old time religion (3X)
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It's good enough for me!
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We will have a mighty orgy We will sacrifice to Yuggoth
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in the honour of Astarte we will sacrifice to Yuggoth
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it'll be a mighty party Burn a candle for Yog-Soggoth
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and it's good enough for me! and the Goat With a Thousand Young!
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We will all be saved by Mithras If your rising sign is Aries
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We will all be saved by Mithras You'll be taken by the Fairies
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slay the Bull and play the Zithras Meet the Buddah in Benares
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on that Resurrection Day! where he'll hit you with a pie!
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I hear Valkyries a-comin There are people into Voodoo
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In the air their song is comin there are people into Voodoo
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they forgot the words! They're hummin! I know I do, I hope you do!
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but they're good enough for me! and it's good enough for me!
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We will venerate Bubastis We will read from the Kabahlah
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We will venerate Bubastis We will read from the Kabahlah
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If you want in, then just ask us! It won't get us to Valhalla
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'cause that's good enough for me! But it's good enough for me!
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We will all bow down to Enlil There are some who practice Shinto
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We will all bow down to Enlil there are some who practice Shinto
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Pass your Cup and get a refill! there's no telling what WE'RE into!
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With bold Gilgamesh the Brave! but that's good enough for me!
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We will all see Aphrodite We will all sing Hare Krishna
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Though she's pretty wild and flighty We will all sing Hare Krishna
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She will meet us in her nightie It's not mentioned in the Mishna
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And she's good enough for me! But it's good enough for me!
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It was good enough for Loki We will all go to Nirvana
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It was good enough for Loki We will all go to Nirvana
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He thinks Thor's a little hokey Make a left turn at Urbana
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and that's good enough for me! And you'll see the Promised Land!
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Here's to those who copy Conan There will be a lot of lovin
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Here's to those who copy Conan when we're meetin in our Coven
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They're just Followers of Onan Quit yer pushin and yer shovin
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and that's good enough for me! So there's room enough for me!
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final verse: It's the Opera written for us
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We will all join in the chorus
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it's the Opera about Boris
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which is Godunov for me.....!
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*
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*
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STAND UP, STAND UP FOR ODIN
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-Robert Cook
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tune: "Stand Up For Jesus"
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Stand up! Stand up for Odin, you warriors of the beard!
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lift high the Raven Banner that half the world has feared!
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From Angleland to far Vinland shall sound the Warrior's Cry
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Till every foe is vanquished, and Odin reigns most high!
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March forth with steel flashing beneath the naked Sun
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and never stand at rest again 'til all the World is won!
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Let scarlet sword his symbol carve in every nation's sod
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'Til every man still breathing stands up for OdinGod!
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Let ships with prows of Dragons the mighty oceans cleave
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and every land not Odin's our crimson gifts receive
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let Raven Banners fill the sky where every man has trod
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And all the soil beneath them belong to OdinGod!
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Stand up! Stand up for Odin, you Warriors of the North!
|
|
With silver swords a-flashing to victory go forth!
|
|
From Angleland to far Vinland our joyous conquest lead
|
|
'Til every foe is vanquished, and Odin's Lord, indeed!
|
|
|
|
*
|
|
|
|
WE ARE CALLED THE CHIVALRY
|
|
-Anonymous
|
|
tune: "The Invalids"
|
|
|
|
We've all been touched by Royalty and wear a white sword belt
|
|
and whether on or off the field, our presence will be felt!
|
|
One warning we should give to all; please list to what we say:
|
|
Unless you also wear the belt, best not get in our way!
|
|
|
|
(Chorus:) For we are called The Chivalry, our swords are very strong
|
|
And while our steel controls the field, well, we can do no wrong!
|
|
|
|
Our ranks are filled with the elite, the rest are cannon fodder
|
|
And as for social graces, well, we never have to bother.
|
|
For in this Current Middle Age, we're ROYALTY, not servants!
|
|
And if your armour's thick enough, who needs to be observant?
|
|
|
|
We're proud of being barbarous, our manners are alarming
|
|
But when your arms are strong as ours, why bother being charming?
|
|
If someone dares to criticise, in word, or deed, or song
|
|
We challenge him to trial at arms, and show the world he's wrong!
|
|
|
|
If someone rises in the field to challenge our control
|
|
He doesn't worry us a bit, however brave or bold
|
|
This man will not remain a threat, he'll not create a fuss
|
|
We'll just give him a belt like ours, then he'll be one of us!
|
|
|
|
*
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|
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|
|
|
|
*
|
|
|
|
LOVER'S HEART
|
|
-Andy Stewart
|
|
Phil Cunningham
|
|
recorded by Silly Wizard
|
|
"A Glint of Silver"
|
|
copyright 1986 Bracken Music Services
|
|
|
|
Am G Am7 C Dm Dm7 F F-G
|
|
She was in the flowery garden when first she caught my eye
|
|
Am G Am7 C Dm7 G
|
|
and I just a marching soldier; she smiled as I passed by
|
|
Dm Em Am C C Am Dm E
|
|
the flowers she held were fresh and fair, her lips were full and red
|
|
Am G C Am Dm7 G7 C
|
|
and as I passed that shady bower, these words to me she said
|
|
|
|
C G C Am
|
|
last night we spoke of love
|
|
C Am Dm E
|
|
now we're forced to part
|
|
Am G C Am
|
|
you leave to the sound of a marching drum
|
|
Dm7 G7 C
|
|
and the beat of a lover's heart
|
|
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|
|
|
She was by the shore in the evening when next I saw my dear
|
|
running barefoot by the water side, she called as I drew near
|
|
the sunlight glanced at the water's edge making fire of her auburn hair
|
|
my young heart danced at her parting words that hung in the evening air
|
|
|
|
(chorus)
|
|
|
|
She was on the Strand next morning when orders came to sail
|
|
and as we slipped our ropes away I watched her from the rail
|
|
she threw me a rose, which fell between us, and floated on the Bay
|
|
and as our ship pulled from the shore, I heard her call and say
|
|
|
|
(chorus)
|
|
|
|
Now the soldier's life won't suit me, sweet music is my trade
|
|
for I'd rather melt the hardest heart than pierce it with a blade
|
|
Let the time be short till I return to my home in the mountains high
|
|
and the loving girl who stole my heart with these words as I passed by
|
|
|
|
(chorus)
|
|
|
|
*
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*
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|
|
|
ELRIC THE AWFUL
|
|
-Ray Stevens
|
|
|
|
Way back in history along the Nordic coast
|
|
that was the sound all the people feared the most
|
|
It would echo thru the night up and down the foggy fj-ord
|
|
It was Elric and the bloodthirsty Horde!
|
|
|
|
Chorus: Elric the Awful, the Brutal and Tenacious
|
|
Elric the Awful, the Ruthless and Courageous
|
|
Subtle as a chainsaw, lacking all the Social Graces
|
|
You can run, but you cannot hide!
|
|
|
|
YES! And as the oars of the sleek, fierce Viking ship cut thru the water like
|
|
knives thru the fog-shrouded Nordic sea, transporting the wild, marauding
|
|
band of Viking heathens stealthily towards their unsuspecting, slumbering
|
|
victims, there he stood, on the foredeck, Elric the Awful, the wildest,
|
|
bloodthirstiest Viking of them all!
|
|
|
|
(his Momma named him Elric 'cause she couldn't spell AHHGGGRRRFFFFLLLLQQHH!)
|
|
|
|
He had a hairy head, a hairy face, hairy chest, hairy legs, hairy boots and a
|
|
hairy hat, shaped like a big bullet with horns comin' out the sides.....and
|
|
once he started after ya he'd NEVER stop!
|
|
He'd turn to his oarsmen in his 37 oared fj-ord and he'd say: "MORDEN BORDEN
|
|
FJORDEN GORDEN!" which was Viking for:
|
|
|
|
"YA-HOO!!!!!, RAVAGE, PILLAGE, PLUNDER,
|
|
MAIM AND PUT BIG HICKEYS ON ALL THEM FAIR DAMSELS!"
|
|
|
|
Chorus: And it was Elric the Awful, the Brutal and Tenacious
|
|
Elric the Awful, mercy sakes! and goodness gracious!
|
|
His appetite for slaughter was simply voracious
|
|
You gotta sleep with your sneakers by your side!
|
|
|
|
YES! And when the villagers heard that awful battle-cry:
|
|
|
|
* YA-HOOOOOOOOOOO! *
|
|
|
|
That's the one! They would run for their lives, fleeing over hills and
|
|
thru valleys to the river, whereupon they would walk mid-stream for 37 and 1/2
|
|
miles, climbing out on the low-lying branch, shinnying down a young sapling
|
|
onto rocky ground and leaping from stone to stone until they arrived one week
|
|
later at a secret cave 97 miles away, and as they sat down for the first time
|
|
to catch their breath, outside they heard:
|
|
|
|
"YA-HOOOO!!!! MORDEN BORDEN FJORDEN GORDEN!"
|
|
|
|
Chorus: Yes, it was Elric the Awful, the Brutal and Tenacious
|
|
Elric the Awful, turned up in the darndest places
|
|
Subtle as a chainsaw, lacking all the Social Graces
|
|
You can run, but you cannot hide!
|
|
|
|
* more *
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Elric the Awful (cont.)
|
|
|
|
OH! And this time they cut south to Paris, bought tickets on the Orient
|
|
Express to Istanbul, hired a U-Haul to the Coast, jumped a Greek freighter
|
|
across the Mediterranian Sea to MON-golia, hooked up with a camel caravan into
|
|
the heart of the Gobi Desert, and as they paused at an oasis, to lift one
|
|
handful of cool water to their parched lips, over their shoulder they heard:
|
|
|
|
"YA-HOOOO!!!! MORDEN BORDEN FJORDEN GORDEN!"
|
|
|
|
|
|
They fled to Calcutta!
|
|
* YA-HOOOOOOOO! *
|
|
|
|
They fled to the Himalayas!
|
|
* YA-HOOOOOOOO! *
|
|
|
|
Tokyo!
|
|
* YA-HOOOOOOOO! *
|
|
|
|
Toronto!
|
|
* YA-HOOOOOOOO! *
|
|
|
|
Toledo and Heyhailea, Georgia.....
|
|
* YA-HOOOOOOOO! *
|
|
|
|
But it was no use! They finally succumbed to a savage plundering and
|
|
pillaging followed by a big hickey party on the outskirts of what is now
|
|
Washington, DC, where the decendants of Elric can still be found today,
|
|
working as Special Agents for the IRS!
|
|
|
|
Elric later amassed a small fortune posing for Molly Hatchet album covers,
|
|
and did stuntwork for Arnold Schwartzenegger in Conan the Barbarian! He also
|
|
won an Academy Award for his dual role as a train wreck and his tender
|
|
portrayal of King Kong's daddy! Oh, you might remember the end of that one:
|
|
there wasn't a dry eye in the house when he married the Empire State Building.
|
|
And who could forget the evening he ate the entire Kingdom of the East?
|
|
With no sugar?
|
|
|
|
Chorus: Elric the Awful, the Brutal and Tenacious
|
|
Elric the Awful, the Hungry and Voracious
|
|
Subtle as a chainsaw, lacking all the Social Graces
|
|
You can run but you cannot hide!
|
|
|
|
* YA-HOOOOOOOOOOO! *
|
|
*
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
*
|
|
|
|
FLOWER OF THE DESERT
|
|
-Baldwin of Erebor
|
|
|
|
On a warm winter's evening I stopped at an Inn
|
|
I met a bold captain; a leader of men
|
|
he asked me to join him, for he was alone
|
|
and, as he was drinking, he spoke of his home
|
|
|
|
(Chorus): Oh, Flower of the Desert full well may you boast!
|
|
Proud Father-of-Kingdoms from mountains to coast!
|
|
the Land of the Phoenix; your works have been felt!
|
|
Oh Flower of the Desert: Atenveldt!
|
|
|
|
When I was a young man and still in my prime
|
|
My life stretched before me; I had plenty of time
|
|
But now I'm an old man, and I number my days
|
|
And I think of my homeland that seems so far away
|
|
|
|
I've followed the Wars now for many a year
|
|
Rode plenty of wenches; drank an ocean of beer
|
|
Lived life to the fullest as a soldier must do
|
|
but I'd trade it all, freely, for the Atenveldt blue!
|
|
|
|
The fire died to embers; he drank steadily on
|
|
When I woke in the morning the soldier was gone.
|
|
But I think of his story wherever I bide
|
|
What a beautiful Kingdom to inspire such pride!
|
|
|
|
*
|
|
|
|
I'M A PELICAN AND I'M OK
|
|
-Anonymous
|
|
tune: "I'm A Lumberjack..."
|
|
|
|
Oh, I'm a Pelican and I'm OK
|
|
I work all night and I work all day!
|
|
|
|
I autocrat, I run events, I order the lava'trie!
|
|
On Sundays I clean up the camp; I'm always last to leave!
|
|
Oh, I'm a Pelican and I'm OK
|
|
I work all night and I work all day!
|
|
|
|
I wear this bird around my neck to impress both young and old
|
|
My talents they are many, and younger Peers I scold!
|
|
Oh, I'm a Pelican and I'm OK
|
|
I work all night and I work all day!
|
|
|
|
When things go wrong it's me you seek to put them back on course
|
|
If I'm not around to steer things right: there's always God, of course!
|
|
Oh I'm a Pelican and I'm OK
|
|
I work all night and I work all day!
|
|
|
|
We stand around and polish Crowns of all the Royalty
|
|
We fix Their Thrones, we make no bones, for Pelicans are we!
|
|
Yes, I'm a Pelican I'm proud to say
|
|
that if it's done right it's done MY way!
|
|
*
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
*
|
|
|
|
THE CATAPULT SONG
|
|
tune: "Tramp Tramp Tramp"
|
|
|
|
-Zoltan Kovacs
|
|
-Heinrich Palantin
|
|
-Su of the Silver Horn
|
|
-Christobal degli Gilicine
|
|
|
|
Oh they thought it was a joke when my catapult it broke
|
|
And they said it would not fire beyond the wall
|
|
So the Captain came to look, and I pulled the trigger hook
|
|
And my catapult it caught him in the jaw!
|
|
|
|
Flip, flip, flip, my Captain's flying
|
|
High up o'er the Norman camp!
|
|
Well, he landed with a thump
|
|
and he crumpled in a lump
|
|
with his head between his knees upon a stump!
|
|
|
|
Yippee yea, my catapult's working
|
|
Yippee yea, we'll have a ball!
|
|
Oh we'll load it up again
|
|
with another Cap-i-tain
|
|
and we'll fire the bloody bastard o'er the wall!
|
|
|
|
*
|
|
|
|
WILTED ROSE
|
|
-Baldwin of Erebor
|
|
copyright 1980 Derek Foster
|
|
|
|
Once I was a Lady of the Blood Royale, a Ruler of this land
|
|
Now I spend my time as an Old Used Queen, and I find it's not so grand
|
|
|
|
(Chorus): With a heigh ho, derry derry down I sing:
|
|
Never any fun for an Old Used Queen!
|
|
|
|
My Lord spends his time out on the Field, and dreams of strawberry leaves
|
|
I spend my days in a castle room..embroidering on his sleeves!
|
|
|
|
The other Ladies sit and talk of Barons, Dukes and Kings
|
|
But when I draw near they stand, and bow, and don't tell me a thing!
|
|
|
|
The common folk may flout and flirt and frolic in the grass
|
|
I'm the Model of Decorum..it's dull as hell!...no one will make a Pass!
|
|
|
|
But someday soon, there'll be a change: I'm learning how to fight!
|
|
And my Lord will learn, when I become a Duchess in my own damn Right!
|
|
With a heigh ho, derry derry down he'll sing:
|
|
Never any fun for an old used....King!
|
|
|
|
*
|
|
|
|
|
|
*
|
|
|
|
THE ALCOHOLIC'S ANTHEM
|
|
-Christchurch NZ University Revue
|
|
tune: "Men Of Harlech"
|
|
|
|
What's the use of drinking tea
|
|
indulging in sobriety?
|
|
(and) tee-total perversity?
|
|
It's healthier to booze!
|
|
What's the use of milk and water?
|
|
these are drinks that never oughter
|
|
be allowed in any quarter
|
|
Come on, lose your Blues!
|
|
Mix yourself a Shandy!
|
|
Drown yourself in brandy!
|
|
A Sherry sweet, a Whiskey neat,
|
|
or any kind of likker that is handy!
|
|
There's no blinking sense in drinking
|
|
any thing that doesn't make you stinking
|
|
There's no happiness like sinking
|
|
blotto to the floor!
|
|
|
|
Put an end to all frustration
|
|
drinking may be your salvation
|
|
end it all in dissapation
|
|
rotten to the core!
|
|
Abberations metabolic
|
|
Ceilings that are hyperbolic
|
|
these are for the Alcoholic
|
|
lying on the floor!
|
|
Vodka for the arty
|
|
Gin, to make you hearty!
|
|
Lemonade was only made
|
|
for drinking if your mother's at the party!
|
|
So stay clear of home-made beer
|
|
and anything that isn't labeled "clear"
|
|
There is nothing else to fear!
|
|
Bottoms up, my boys!
|
|
*
|
|
|
|
I SING OF DEAD BUNNIES
|
|
-Anonymous, but Moonwulf started it!
|
|
tune: "Sweet Betsy From Pike"
|
|
|
|
I sing of dead bunnies, and burnt baby chicks
|
|
Barbecued squirrels, and hamsters on sticks
|
|
Ducklings in blenders, and frogs off the road
|
|
Opossums on fenders and deep french-fried toad!
|
|
|
|
Sliced and diced sparrows, dead dogs on the lawn
|
|
Cats riddled with arrows, and disemboweled faun
|
|
Pickled canaries, and clubbed baby seals
|
|
Mice served in berries, and turtles 'neath wheels
|
|
|
|
Minced baby earwigs, koala fillet
|
|
Rat Pie with custard, and cockroach puree
|
|
Fred's little brother, and Mystery Beast:
|
|
These are the things that they served at the Feast
|
|
|
|
*
|
|
|
|
MADIERA,M'DEAR
|
|
- Michael Flanders and Donald Swann
|
|
* recorded by the Limelighters,
|
|
Electra Records LPM 2272 "Tonight:In Person"
|
|
|
|
She was young, she was pure, she was new, she was NICE
|
|
she was fair, she was Sweet Seventeen.
|
|
He was old, he was vile, and no stranger to Vice
|
|
he was Bad, he was Base, he was Mean....
|
|
He had slyly inviegled her up to his flat
|
|
to view his collection of.....stamps ( all un-perforated...)
|
|
and he said as he hastened to put out the cat
|
|
the wine, his cigar.....and the lamps:
|
|
"Have some Madiera, m'dear.....
|
|
it's ever so much nicer than Beer!
|
|
I don't care for Sherry, and one cannot drink Stout,
|
|
and Port is a wine I can well do without!
|
|
( Actually it's a case of 'Chacun a son GOUT....')
|
|
Have some Madiera, m'dear?"
|
|
|
|
She sipped it, she drank it, she drained it, she did!
|
|
He slyly re-filled it again,
|
|
and he said, as he secretly carved one more notch
|
|
on the butt of his gold-handled cane....
|
|
"Have some Madiera, m'dear?
|
|
I have a small cask of it here...
|
|
and once it's been opened, well, you know it won't keep,
|
|
DO finish it up; it will help you to...sleep...."
|
|
"Have some Madiera, m'dear?
|
|
You really have nothing to fear..
|
|
Now if it were Gin you'd do wrong to say 'yes'
|
|
the Evil Gin Does would be hard to assess...
|
|
(and, besides, it's inclined to affect my Prowess....)
|
|
Have some Madiera, m'dear?"
|
|
|
|
Then there flashed thru her mind what her mother had said
|
|
with her ante-pen-ultimate breath:
|
|
"Oh, my child, should you gaze on the Wine When 'Tis Red:
|
|
BE PREPARED FOR A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH!"
|
|
She let go the glass with a shy little cry ( eek! )
|
|
Crash! Tinkle! it fell to the floor
|
|
When he said: "What in Heaven?" She made no reply
|
|
but took off in a dash for the door!
|
|
"Have some Madiera, m'dear?"
|
|
Rang out down the hall, loud and clear
|
|
in a tremulous voice that was filled with Despair
|
|
as she paused to take breath in the cool, midnite air...
|
|
|
|
"Have some Madiera, m'dear?......"
|
|
The words seemed to ring in her ear......
|
|
Until the next morning she woke up, in bed
|
|
with a smile on her lips, and an ache in her head....
|
|
and a BEARD at her earlobe which * tickled *, and said:
|
|
"Have some Madiera, m'dear???????"
|
|
|
|
*
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
*
|
|
|
|
THE UNFORTUNATE MUNDANE
|
|
-Pat Fiona McFarland
|
|
tune: "The Unfortunate Man"
|
|
|
|
There once was a mundane who searched far and wide
|
|
for a genuine "Lady" to stand by his side
|
|
At last he found one that quite fit the bill
|
|
and he courted and married a girl from Three Hills
|
|
|
|
At the wedding the mundane made one big mistake
|
|
'twas not in omitting the wine or the cake
|
|
the ring was well chosen, and no one was bored...
|
|
but he didn't ask what she meant by the "Dark Horde!"
|
|
|
|
(Chorus): He's a very unfortunate, very unfortunate, very unfortunate man!
|
|
|
|
That night in their chambers the Lady arose
|
|
and began to prepare to retire in repose
|
|
the husband sat near her, admiring her charms,
|
|
that gave him such pleasure to hold in his arms.
|
|
|
|
She doffed off her surcoat of white, to reveal
|
|
a belt that was lit'rally dripping with steel!
|
|
And the rose in his cheek quickly grew very faint
|
|
when he saw they were live steel, and not wood-and-paint!
|
|
|
|
(Chorus)
|
|
|
|
She went to the mirror to take off her belt
|
|
and she saw in reflection how her husband felt
|
|
said she "Don't be frightened or shiver in dread..
|
|
For I'll only wear two when we get into bed!"
|
|
|
|
She took twenty more from her boots and her hair
|
|
then she proceeded to doff gown so fair
|
|
and her trembleing husband got quite a surprise
|
|
for beneath it she wore chain-mail made to her size!
|
|
|
|
(Chorus)
|
|
|
|
Now all you mundanes who would marry for life
|
|
be sure you examine an SCA wife
|
|
don't be like the turkey who trusted his eyes
|
|
and a little bit later got quite a surprise!
|
|
|
|
(Chorus)
|
|
|
|
*
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
*
|
|
|
|
HUNG OVER BARBARIAN
|
|
-Robert Asprin
|
|
tune: "Teddy-bears' Picnic"
|
|
|
|
|
|
E Am E Am E Am E Am
|
|
If you go out on the streets today, you better not go alone!
|
|
C G C G C G C
|
|
Do not go out on the streets today, it's safer to stay at home!
|
|
F G C Am G
|
|
The least excuse that ever there was today will mean a challenge because
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F C F C G C
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From drink last night old Fafhrd is quite....hungover!
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C
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Hungover Barbarian! You'd best beware of him,
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G7
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he's certainly not himself today!
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If you see him better run
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C
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'cause you'll get killed if you get in his way!
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he is in a cloud of gloom, so give him lots of room
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F
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and better not come too near!
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C
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you gentle folk who value your lives better stay at home today
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F G7 C
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'cause Fafhrd's hung over out to HERE!
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E7
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so......
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If you go out on the streets today, you better go with a guard!
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There's lots of pleasanter ways to die than be crushed by a ton of lard
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If you pretend my mountainous friend is not a threat, you'll come to your end
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For Fafhrd's quite prepared for a fight..........
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He'd like to pound you into the ground...........
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You'd best beware! You'd better take care!
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His head and brain in TERRIBLE pain..............
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from drink last night old Fafhrd is quite........hung over!
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*
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*
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THE ANCIENT AND OLD IRISH CONDOM
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-Anonymous
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tune: "Rosin the Beau"
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I was up to me arse in the muck, Sir,
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with a peat contract down in the bog
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When me shovel it struck something hard, Sir,
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that I thought was a rock or a log
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T'was a box of the finest old oak, Sir,
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T'was a foot long, and four inches wide
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and not giving a damn for the Fairies
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I just took a quick look inside
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Now I opened the lid of this box, Sir,
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and I swear that my story is true
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T'was an ancient and old Irish condom
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A relic of Brian Boru
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T'was an ancient and old Irish condom
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T'was a foot long, and made of elk hide,
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With a little gold tag on it's end, Sir,
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with his name, rank, and stud fee inscribed
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Now, I cast me mind back thru the ages
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To the days of that horny old Celt
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With his wife lyin' by on the bed, Sir,
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As he stood by the fire in his pelt
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And I thought that I heard Brian whisper
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As he stood in the fire's rosy light
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"Well, you've had yer own way long enough, dear...
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'Tis the hairy side outside, tonight."
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*
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* end: SONGS1.TXT: Locksley's Black Book of Song
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