SCOTLAND'S DEPRAVED
-Bertram of Bearington (Tune: "There Were Three Bonnie Lassies, Came from the Isle of Wight") (nb: "Wearin' O' the Green" works, too) There was a bonnie lassie, and she had brothers three; She did love a foreign lord, who came from Coventry. Her brothers did not like this and they told her to her face, "We're fearful, bonnie sister, the family you'll disgrace. For you're a highborn Scottish lass, of noble highland birth, And we don't think no foreign laird can give you what you're worth!" She said, "He is a valiant lord - he'll show you what he's got, You'll see the stuff he's made of - he'll out-Scottish any Scot!" "We'll set him tests of honor," the brothers they declared, "And if he canna do them, we'll surely know he's scared, In fact we clearly doubt that he'll escape from them alive, And so we'll set the contest - the trials will be five." The first contest was golfing, in which the lord did fine. He killed a dozen hedgehogs while shooting the back nine. He double-bogied every hole, his ball went wide and far, But when they counted hedgehogs, they found he'd broken par! The second one was piping, in which he held his own, He outdid all the brothers, for on and on he'd drone. He kept his pipes a'skirlin' 'til they all were out of breath, The reason - not his diaphragm - it's just that he's tone deaf! The next trial was sword dancing - with bare feet & bare sword, And in this painful trial, he proved a mighty lord. "Good brothers I don't understand - you said this would be hard! They made me wear my armor when I learned to galliard!" The fourth contest was drinking, the knight showed them his stuff. He chug-a-lugged from six more jugs when they had cried, "Enough!" He planned to take the excess home, he put it in a pail... "It makes a welcome change," he said, "from luke-warm English ale!" The fifth and final contest, this valiant knight was told, Was to eat a hag-gis [pause] while it was still COLD! The knight he ate a score of them, he said "Good friends come here. I'll have another score, but - this time with Worcestershire!" When the trials were over, her kin said "Sister dear, Though he has won the contest, you may not wed, we fear. For when we were out golfing, he proved his mind's unsound. The man, he must be crazy, he loaned me half a crown!" "Begone you silly spendthrift, to you I won't be wed. The way you throw your gold around, you must have lost your head!" The knight he quit the highlands and returned to Coventry, The lass she wed a highland man, kept Scottish lovers, three. Thus it goes in Scottish lands, the sexes both are bawds, Where half of them are bastards, and all of them tightwads! This tale is nearly over and I'm singin' on one lung, But to conclude the moral, at last it must be sung... CLOSING (to the tune of "Scotland the Brave") O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-h, (sound like a set of pipes starting up) (1) Scotland it is the land, please (2) Baa baa baa baa baa baa baa For lusty lairds and lassies, Baa baa baa baa baa baa baa Though England may be moral Though England may be moral SCOTLAND'S DEPRAVED! SCOTLAND'S DEPRAVED!
SCOTLAND THE BRAVE
Hark when the night is fallin', hear, hear the pipes a-callin' Loudly and proudly callin' down thru the glen There where the hills are sleepin', now feel the blood a-leapin' High as the spirits of the old highland men! Towering in gallant fame, Scotland the mountain hame! High may your proud standards gloriously wave! Land of the high endeavour, land of the shining river, Land of my heart, forever, Scotland the brave! High in the misty highlands, out by the purple islands, Brave are the hearts that beat beneath Scottish skies! Wild are the winds to meet you, staunch are the friends that greet you Kind as the light that shines from fair maiden's eyes! Towering in gallant fame, Scotland, my mountain hame! High may your proud standards gloriously wave! Land of the high endeavour, land of the shining river, Land of my heart, forever, Scotland the brave! Far-off in sunlit places, sad are the Scottish faces, Yearnin' t'feel the kiss of sweet Scottish rain! Where tropic skies are beamin', love sets the heart a-dreamin', Longin' and dreamin' for the homeland again! Towering in gallant fame, Scotland, my mountain hame! High may your proud standards gloriously wave! Land of the high endeavour, land of the shinin' river, (lousy weather) Land of my heart, forever, Scotland the brave! Hot as a burning ember, flaming in bleak December Burning within the hearts of clansmen afar! Calling to home and fire, calling the sweet desire, Shining a light that beckons from every star! Towering in gallant fame, Scotland, my mountain hame! High may your proud standards gloriously wave! Land of the high endeavour, land of the shining river, Land of my heart, forever, Scotland the brave!
TRY A MINSTREL
-Andregor Starseeker (c) Loren Davidson (Tune: unknown) Don't follow a warrior with armour that shines His attention's for fighting first, second for wine You'll haul armour to please him and polish it fine When you want your reward, he'll be snoring like swine! CHORUS: But a minstrel is gentle, his touch it is light He knows how to entertain throughout the night! He's never too tired, or too bruised from a fight! A minstrel's quick tongue can make you feel right! Don't chase after a married man, 'twill soon make you tear You'll be stuck in the closet when his lady is near When the challenge is gone, you'll be dumped on your ear But a minstrel can help you restore your good cheer! Don't service a King, it's like fighting the air! With a Kingdom to rule, you're the -least- of his cares! His Throne and his glory won't be yours to share, And you're -dead- if you bring him an unscheduled heir! Don't sleep with the nobles, unless you've no pride, They've one place for a woman, and that is inside! From cooking and cleaning, you'll soon want to hide Till a minstrel does find you and away you will ride! Don't sleep with a Viking, let me tell you why: Their swords are all rusty, their bed's never dry, They'll leave for a year in the wink of an eye, And you know they're not lonely when docking time's nigh! Stay away from the rich men, they act just like boys You'll never be more than just one of their toys! They'll cast you aside if you make too much noise A minstrel's soft caring is the sweetest of joys!
WILLIE MACINTOSH
(The Burning of Auchendown) (Child 183) recorded by the Silly Sisters As I cam by Fidduch-side, on a May morning, I spied Willie Macintosh, and hour before the dawning: Turn again, turn again, turn again I bid ye! If ye burn Auchendown, Huntley he will heid ye! Hunt me or heid me, that sall never fear me! I sall burn Auchendown before the life leaves me! As I cam in by Auchendown, on a May morning, Auchendown was in a blaze, an hour before the dawning! Crawing, crawing, for a' your crowse crawing... Ye brunt your crop and tint your wings an hour before the dawning!
YA GOT TROUBLE (RIGHT HERE IN CALAFIA)
-Lloyd ap Taliesin y Felinfoel Copyright (C) 1991, James Woodyatt Savagely filked [without remorse] from the Music Man (Insert the name of any four syllable barony with an attitude problem) Well, either you are closing your eyes to a situation you do not wish to acknowledge, Or you are not aware of the caliber of disaster... indicated by the presence of a beer tavern in your community. Well, ya got trouble my friends, I say trouble right here in Calafia. Why sure I'm a storyteller, I'm always mighty proud, I say I'm mighty proud to say it. I consider that the hours I've spent in front of a crowd are golden... Helped me cultivate horse sense, and a cool head and a keen eye. Ya ever try to give an iron clad leave to yourself from a royal command performance? But just as I say it takes judgement, brains and maturity to get a harp argent for singing sixteenth century sea shanties, I say that any boob... Can get drunk and murder the lyrics to a Broadway showtune... And I call that sloth. And the first big step on the road to the depths of degrada[tion]... I say first... medicinal wine from a teaspoon, then beer from a keg. And the next thing you know your son's singing filks and wearing a cavalier hat, And listening to some egotistical Norman, here to tell all about country dancing, Not a wholesome courtly dance, No!, but a dance where you actually touch your partner's hands. Ya like to see some big, ugly Welshman drooling on Your daughter's arm, make your blood boil, well I should say... Now friends, let me tell you what I mean... Ya got one, two, five, ten, fifteen, twenty ounces in a pint. Ounces that mark the difference between a nobleman and a tinker, With a capital 'T', and that rhymes with 'B', and that stands for Beer. And all week long your Calafian youth'll be piddling away, I say your young men'll be piddling.... Piddling away their noon-time, supper-time, chore-time too, Just get the beer in the tankard Never mind getting the dandelions pulled, the tent flap patched or the beefsteak pounded. Never mind hauling any water 'til you parents are caught with the dishes all dirty on a Saturday night And that's trouble. Oh, yes we've got lots and lots trouble I'm thinking of smalls in their little clothes, shirt tail young ones, peeking in the tavern window after sundown Trouble! Folks! Right here in Calafia! Gotta find a way to keep the young ones moral after all. Now, I know all you folk are the right kind of parents, So I'll be perfectly frank with you. Would you like to know what sort of conversation goes on when they're loafin' around that tavern? They'll be puttin' down Guinness; they'll be puttin' down Blackbush; Drinking that Connemara Dew like alcohol fiends! And braggin' all about how they're gonna cover up a telltale breath with a bit of raw clove, One fine night, they leave the tavern, headed for the dance in Bedlam, Libertine men and scarlet women and belly dancing with shameless music That will grab your son, your daughter, in the arms of a jungle animal instinct. Mass hysteria! Friends, the idle brain is the devils playground, Trouble! (Oh! We got trouble!) Right here in Calafia! (Right here in Calafia!) Trouble with a capital 'T', and that rhymes with 'B', and that stands for Beer. (That stands for beer!) Oh yes, we've got trouble. (Our children have got trouble!) Right here in Calafia! (Right here!) Remember the code of chivalry and the golden rule. Mothers of Calafia. Heed this warning before it's too late. Watch for the telltale signs of corruption. When your son leaves the pavilion, does he roll his sleeves up above the elbow? Is there a disgusting sludge in the bottom of his tankard that looks like it came from an Exxon spill? Is there a book of Irish folk songs hidden under his pillow? Is he starting to memorize jokes, and one-liners that the peerage would never approve of? Are certain ideas creeping into his mind? Ideas like, "Who cares if I never get an award.... ever." And, "The king's an idiot!" Aha! And, "Big deal if I get banished!" Well, if so my friends, You got trouble! (Oh! We got trouble!) Right here in Calafia! (Right here in Calafia!) That drink with water and the barley and the hops is the devils tool. (The devil's tool.) Yes, we've got trouble, trouble, trouble. (Our children have got big, big trouble.) With a capital 'T', (With a capital 'T') And that rhymes with 'B', (And that rhymes with 'B') And that stands for Beer. (That stands for beer!)
YESTERDAY
-Saavogg Haraldsson Yesterday...all my troubles seemed so far away Now it looks as though they're here to stay Oh, I believe in yesterday.... Suddenly...I'm not half the man I used to be There's a shadow hanging over me Oh, yesterday came suddenly! Why he had to strike squarely there, he wouldn't say Right between my knees; how I long for yesterday! Yesterday...love was such an easy game to play Now I have to look the other way I believe in yesterday! Yesterday...ladies were so easy to impress Now I need an icy cold compress! I believe in yesterday!
OAK, ASH, AND THORN
-Rudyard Kipling Of all the trees that grow so fair Old England to adorn, Greater are none beneath the Sun Than Oak, and Ash, and Thorn. Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs, (All of a Midsummer's morn!) Surely we sing of no little thing In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn. CHORUS: Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs, (All of a Midsummer's morn!) Surely we sing of no little thing In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn. Oak of the clay lived many a day Or ever Aeneas began. Ash of the Loam was a lady at home When Brut was an outlaw man. Thorn of the Down saw New Troy Town (From which was London born); Witness hereby the ancientry Of Oak, and Ash, and Thorn. Yew that is old in churchyard-mould He breedeth a mighty bow, Alder for shoes do wise men choose And beech for cups also. But when ye have killed, and your bowl is spilled And your shoes are clean outworn Back ye must speed for all that ye need To Oak, and Ash, and Thorn. Ellum she hateth mankind, and waiteth Till every gust be laid To drop a limb on the head of him That anyway trusts her shade. But whether a lad be sober or sad, Or mellow with ale from the horn, He will take no wrong when he lieth along 'Neath Oak, and Ash, and Thorn. Oh, do not tell the Priest our plight, Or he would call it a sin; But-we have been out in the woods all night, A-conjuring Summer in! And we bring you news by word of mouth- Good news for cattle and corn- Now is the Sun come up from the South With Oak, and Ash, and Thorn! Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs (All of a Midsummer's morn)! England shall bide 'till Judgment Tide By Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!
THE MINSTREL BOY
-Thomas More The minstrel boy to the war is gone In the ranks of death you'll find him. His father's sword he has girded on His wild harp slung behind him. "Land of song," sang the warrior bard, "Tho all the world betrays ye, One sword at least thy rights shall guard, One faithful harp shall praise thee." The minstrel fell, but the foeman's chains could not keep his proud soul under. The harp he bore ne'er spoke again For he tore its cords asunder... And said "No chains shall sully thee, Thou soul of love and bravery, Thy songs were made for the pure and free, They ne'er shall sound in slavery."
IN MIDDLE EARTH
-John Painter (Tune: "Penny Lane") In Middle Earth there is a tavern on the Eastern Road. There travelers will find its tables full of cheer. And when the innkeeper brings the beer, He may lend an ear. In Middle Earth well hidden deep in the Old Forest's trees Tom Bombadil maintains a house of cobbled stone To which he brings Goldberry home From the River's edge -- to his bed. Middle Earth beneath the stars below the Sun Where the seedling of Telperion is planted: Elsewhere back In Middle Earth there is a Hobbit in a Hobbit-hole. He keeps it clean although it's dug into the ground. And though he spends a lot of time in town, Still he's been around. In Middle Earth there is a wizard with a staff of oak. His flowing beard is colored like new-fallen snow. His fireworks light up the fields below, And his smoke-rings glow. Middle Earth beneath the stars below the Sun A wonder where the northland waters run ere Sunlight Elsewhere back In Middle Earth a wizard smokes his pipe contentedly. We see a Hobbit walking, humming, to the inn. And then old Bombadil rushes in From the River's edge -- to his bed. Middle Earth beneath the stars below the Sun Where the seedling of Telperion is planted..... Middle Earth beneath the stars below the Sun A wonder where the northland waters run ere Sunlight.... (fade ad lib)
COLD IRON
-Rudyard Kipling Gold is for the Mistress, Silver for the Maid Copper for the Craftsman, cunning at his trade "Good", cried the Baron, sitting in his Hall, But Iron, Cold Iron, is the Master of them all. So he made rebellion, `gainst the King his Liege Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege "Nay", said the Cannnoneer on the castle wall, But Iron, Cold Iron, shall be Master of you all. Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong When the cruel cannonballs laid them all along He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall, And Iron, Cold Iron, was the Master over all. Yet his King spake kindly, ah, how kind a Lord What if I release thee now and give thee back thy sword "Nay", said the Baron, mock not at my fall, For Iron, Cold Iron, is the Master of men all. Tears are for the craven, prayers are for the clown Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a Crown As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small, For Iron, Cold Iron, must be Master of men all. Yet his King made answer, few such Kings there be Here is bread and here is wine, now sit and sup with me Eat and drink in Mary's Name, while I do recall, How Iron, Cold Iron, can be Master of men all. He took the wine and blessed it, he blessed and broke the bread With his own hands he served them, and presently he said See these Hands they pierced with nails, outside My city wall, Show Iron, Cold Iron, to be Master of men all. Wounds are for the desperate, blows are for the strong Balm and oil for weary hearts, all cut and bruised with wrong I forgive thy treason, I redeem thy Fall, For Iron, Cold Iron, must be Master of men all. Crowns are for the valiant, scepters for the bold Thrones and power for mighty men, who dare to take and hold "Nay", said the baron, kneeling in His Hall, But Iron, Cold Iron, is the Master of men all. Iron out of Calvary, is the Master of men all
THE COURT SONG
-Aed of Avingdor Well I went to an event about a couple of months back I had myself a good time. Fighting and playing, flirting with the girls At least the ones who didn't mind. And after the day, and after the feast, We all went off to the court. Then the herald got up, he opened his mouth He said, "I think it's time to start." Then he said: CHORUS: "Wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna wa." And I said, "Huh?" And then the King said "Wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna wa." And I said, "Huh?" And my friend said, "What did he say?" I said, "Hey, I don't know, how 'bout you?" And then the Queen said "Wanna wanna wanna wanna wa." And we all said, "Huh?" Well we all sat there in the back of the room We tried to make the best of our plight. Folks got up, they all got scrolls, It really was a wonderful sight. And there were folks that we knew, and some who we don't But for our group it was a good day. And then the herald got up, he opened his mouth And this is what I heard him say. Then he said: Well a friend of mine from the front of the room Yelled "Hey stupid! They just called you!" I got up, I went to the front But I didn't know what I should do. Well the herald helped out, and the King and the Queen Were real nice as they gave me my scroll. When I got back I said, "Did you hear?" But my friends they had to be told. Cause they heard: Now I still go to events, I have a good time And I flirt with what ladies I can. And after the day, and after the feast, I go off to court with a plan. Yes I still sit in the back, I have a good chat And I talk about the fun of the day. Cause whatever the night, it's always in sight But this is all I hear them say......... Yes, they say:
CHASTITY BELT
-Anonymous Oh say, gentle maiden, may I be your lover Condemn me no longer to mourn and to weep Struck down like a hart, I lie wounded and fainting So let down your drawbridge, I'll enter your keep CHORUS: Enter your keep, nonnie nonnie Enter your keep, nonnie nonnie Let down your drawbridge, I'll enter your keep Alas, gentle errant, I am not a maiden I'm married to Sir Oswald the cunning old Celt He's gone to the wars for a twelve-month or longer And taken the key to my chastity belt Fear not gentle maiden for I know a locksmith To his forge we will go, on his door we will knock And try to avail us of his specialised knowledge And see if he's able to unpick the lock Alas, sir and madam, to help I'm unable My technical knowledge is of no avail I can't find the secret to your combination The cunning old bastard has fitted a Yale I'm back from the wars with sad news of disaster A terrible mishap I have to confide As my ship was passing the Straits of Gibralter I carelessly dropped the key over the side Alas and alack I am locked up forever When up steps a page-boy, says "Leave it to me" If you will allow me to enter your chamber I'll open it up with my duplicate key
DEATH AND THE LADY
As I walked forth one day, one day I met an old man by the way His head was bald and his beard was grey His clothing made of the cold earth and clay His clothing made of the cold earth and clay I said "Old man, what man are you? What country do you belong to?" "My name is Death, as heard of me All kings and princes bow down unto me All kings and princes bow down unto me" "My name is Death, can not you see Lords, Dukes and Ladies bow down unto me And you are one of those branches three And you fair maid must come along with me And you fair maid must come along with me" I'll give you gold and jewels so rare I'll give you costly rich robes to wear I'll give you the combs that hold my hair If you will let me live but another short year If you will let me live but another short year Fair Lady lay your robes aside No longer glory in your pride And now sweet maid make no delay Your time has come and you must away Your time has come and you must away On that same night this fair maid died And on her tombstone these words enscribed Here lies a poor distress-ed maid By Death so cruelly she was betrayed By Death so cruelly she was betrayed
THE RIDDLE SONG
-15th century music by John Rutter I have a young sister far beyond the sea And many be the dowries that she sent me She sent me a cherry withouten any stone And so she did the dove withouten any bone She sent me a briar withouten any rind She bade me love my lemman without longing Now how can any cherry be without stone And how can any dove be withouten bone How can there be a briar withouten any rind And how can I love my lemman without longing? When the cherry was a flower, then had it no stone When the dove was an egg, then had it no bone When the briar was onbred, then had it no rind When the maiden has that she loveth, she is without longing
FROM THE TOMB
-H.P. Lovecraft Come hither my lads with your tankards of ale And drink to the present before it shall fail Pile each on your platter a mountain of beef For 'tis eating and drinking that brings us relief So fill up your glass For life will soon pass When you're dead you'll ne'er drink to your King or your lass! Anacreon had a red nose, so they say But what's a red nose if you're happy and gay? Gad split me! I'd rather be red while I'm here Than white as a lily - and dead half a year! So Betty, my miss Come and give me a kiss! In Hell there's no innkeeper's daughter like this! Young Harry, propped up just as straight as he's able Will soon lose his wig and slip under the table But fill up your goblets and pass them around Better under the table than under the ground! So revel and chaff As ye thirstily quaff Under six feet of dirt 'tis easy to laugh! The fiend strike me blue! I'm scarce able to walk! And damn me if I can stand upright or talk! Here. landlord, bid Betty to summon a chair I'll try home for a while, for my wife is not there! So lend me a hand I'm not able to stand But I'm gay whilst I linger on top of the land!
PIRATE FLAG RISING
Words: David Weingart 1993 Music: "Bad Moon Rising" (Creedence Clearwater Revival) I see the pirate flag rising, I see trouble on the way Check out that ship on the horizon, I think we'd better start to pray CHORUS: Don't get caught tonight, for they're bound to take our lives There are pirates on the rise I see that skull and crossbones flowing, I think our end is coming soon I see those cutlasses a-glowing, I hear the cannons going BOOM! CHORUS Let's try and get those guns together, I just am not prepared to die Fighting for all our lives together, there are pirates on the rise CHORUS
AN ASSASSIN'S LOT
Words: Roger Burton-West Music: Sir Arthur Sullivan, /A Policeman's Lot/ (from /The Pirates of Penzance/) Date: 17 October, 1994 Spoken: It is most distressing to us to be the agents whereby our fellow-creatures are deprived of that vitality which is so dear to all -- /but we should have thought of that before we joined the guild/. When the dragon's not a-lying on his money (on his money) Or plotting how to reave a town or two (town or two) He prefers to bask on ledges where it's sunny (where it's sunny) And to poison him seems very cruel to do (cruel to do) Even vampires can be kindly to their mothers (to their mothers) Though we often have to stake them in the sun (in the sun) And taking one consideration with another (with another) An assassin's lot is not a happy one (happy one) With than-atogenic duty to be done (to be done) An assassin's lot is not a happy one (happy one) When the paladin's not slaying orcs and liches (orcs and liches) Or trashing evil temples by the score (by the score) He often may go fishing under bridges (under bridges) Where a dagger's blade makes sure he slays no more (slays no more) When the necromancer resurrects his brother (-ects his brother) Killing both of them is rarely any fun (any fun) And taking one consideration with another (with another) An assassin's lot is not a happy one (happy one) With than-atogenic duty to be done (to be done) An assassin's lot is not a happy one (happy one)
