1 songs by Master Hector of Black Height 1.1 The Ealdormere Song, Hey, Hey The Wolves Will Bay O I'll sing you one-o Hey, hey, the wolves will bay What is your one-o? One for the land of Ealdormere, and evermore shall be so. I'll sing you two-o Hey, hey, the wolves will bay What is your two-o? Two, two, myself and you, we wear the scarlet proudly Ande one for the land of Ealdormere, and evermore shall be so. Fourth Post-Revisionist Version Ten, ten, let's do it again Nine for Kaffa in the Ditch Eight for the Bastard Viking Seven for the Loyal Households Six for the Northern Baronies Five for the Prince and Princess Four for his Royal Highness Three, three for His Majesty Two, two myself and you, we wear the scarlet proudly And one for the land of Ealdormere, that evermore shall be so. 1.2 Bonnie Dundee (Stand in the Shieldwall) To the Lords of the Trillium Prince Gunther did speak, Saying, "Life is for living, it's not for the meek, And my Lords, should the Prince and should you both agree, Then to Arms and come stand with Prince Gunther and me." Come bring me my sword, come bring me my bow, Come give us a cheer, for to battle we go. The tyger may beckon but soon he will flee. Come and stand in the shieldwall with Gunther and me. The Tyger is haughty, the Tyger is proud. His claws are fair sharp and his roar is fair lout. Buy we're of the Trillium and proud folk are we Who shall stand and shall fight with Prince Gunther and me. Sweet ladies and fair, 'tis to battle we go. We shall smite with the sword and draw with the bow. With your names on our lips we'll grasp sweet victory. Save a kiss for your Lord, for Prince Gunther and me. We stand 'neath the shade fo the trillium unfurled. Our great banner is known to the ends of the world, And 'tis legend we make, and 'tis legends ye'll be If you stand in the Shieldwall with Gunther and me. 1.3 Rise and Follow David Sound the call for far and near throughout the land of Ealdormere Our Prince commands; we shall appear. Rise and follow David. Tha tighin fodham, fodham, fodham (x3) Rise and follow David. Archers draw the supple bow. Pipers gie your pipes a blow. Our Prince commands; we'll not be slow. Rise and follow David. Fighters let your sword-blows ring. Of your brave deeds great songs we'll sing For ye shall meet the Eastron King. Rise and follow David. Glandydd, lead your clan to war. Faeringold, stand to the fore. For each one there a hundred more. Rise and follow David. See our Prince upon the field. A thousand swords, a thousand shields. At his advance the foeman yields. Rise and follow David. Let the war-shout split the skies. Our Prince commands; his foeman dies, And we shall take our Prince his prize. Rise and follow David. Foeman hear and foeman quake. Be careful of the side ye take. Ye'll rue the day the wolves awake. Rise and follow David. 1.4 The Pennsic Blues Well we have slimy boots, and we have slimy socks. We got a slimy cup inside our slimy jocks, And in our heads we must have slimy rocks. (Bu bu bu bu bum) This ain't vacation this is war. Well we got armour plating on our heads. The merchant called it steal but I'm sure that it's leas And in half an hour we're gonna be dead. (Bu bu bu bu bum) This ain't vacation, this is war. But we got songs for singing and helms for ringing, Tales for telling and tents for dwelling, Swords for killing and ladies for thrilling, And ain't that what it's for (Ba da da) Well we have slimy boots, and we have slimy socks. We got a slimy cup inside our slimy jocks, And in our heads we must have slimy rocks. (Bu bu bu bu bum) This ain't vacation, this is war. 1.5 The Prince of Ealdormere When I was just a stripling, was when I first saw rippling Across the Pennsic battlefield the points of Eastern spears. But then I saw beside me, to lead me and to guide me, The blazing scarlet banner of the Prince of Ealdormere. And if you could have seen us then. Boys, if you had just been there! The sky was full of singing, and the foe was full of fear. In cold winds of September the foe will long remember The blazing scarlet banner of the Prince of Ealdormere. They tell the tales of glory. They sing the scarlet story Across the camps across the south as far as Calontir Of Grimwulf and of Aeden, whose names sent foes to hidin' When they form up the shieldwall for the Prince of Ealdormere. We've got Finvarr, we've got Kelly, and if the foe's got belly To stand against Sir David, then give the foe a cheer. There's Cenedai in Skraeling who conquers without failing Whenever he's commanded by the Prince of Ealdormere. And now I am confessing, it's the foemen I'm addressing, The ones who stand across the field with sword and shield and spear. I hope your steel you've mastered, or pity the poor bastard Who stands against Sir Gunther, the Prince of Ealdormere. 2 Songs by Viscount Cordigan d'Arnot 2.1 Knight of the Realm Two swords hang from my hip. Each on has a thrusting tip. Gold chain hangs from my neck. When I fight I'm really heck. I've got a belt as white as snow. I'm a knight, boy, don't you know. I'm a man with two sticks -- real quick. Knight of the Realm. Started out with sword and shield. Found that I could clear the field. Learned great sword just for show. I can kill you with just one blow. Learned pole arm just for fun. Found that I was number one. I'm a man with two sticks -- real quick. Knight of the Realm. Got the skill, got the speed, Got more power than I need. There's just one thing you should know. I can kill you with just one blow. And so two swords hang from my hip. Each one has a thrusting tip. I'm a man with two stick -- real quick. Knight of the Realm. 2.2 The Shieldman's Lament Ooooooooooooooooh, Lord, it's hard to be a shieldman, when you fight at the Pennsic War. Them fellows with polearms all fighting behind me, Us guys with the shields stand befor. Ere this battle is over, most of us shieldmen will die. Oh, lord, it's hard to be a shieldman, but dear Lord you know I must try. I thought that maybe next time, I'd get me one of them long spears And fight with them fellows with the pole arms behind me And maybe I'd last out the year. But there was no way they would let me. They said, "Hell, son, you're doin' just fine, So pick up that sword, and strap on that shield, And get your butt back in that line." I thought that if I fought two stick, I could harry the enemy's flank. When I asked our good prince what he thought of this plan, He said, "Hell, son, you ain't got the rank. Only our very best fighters get to have that good a time. So pick up that sword, and strap on that shield, And get your butt back in that line." You say you're a spanking new fighter? Remember that you've just begun. Keep at it a couple or three years. Then maybe you'll get to have fun. I don't know what else I can tell you. Hell, son, it ain't yet your time. So pick up that sword, and strap on that shield, And get your butt back in that line. Oh, Lord, it's hard to be a shieldman, But dear God, why must I die? Poleman's Pride, an Extra Chorus by Lord Philip mac Duncan Sinclair Oh Lord, it's a sin to be a poleman When you're fighting at Murder Melee. Them guys with the shields, they die off so quickly; Us guys with the poles last all day. When this battle is over most of us polemen will live. Oh Lord, it's a sin to be a poleman, But thankfully, God, you forgive. 3 Songs by Yang the Nauseating 3.1 The Chivalry We're all men touched by royal steel, we wear a white sword belt, And whether on or off the field, our presence will be felt. One thing we will be warning you: pay heed to what we say. Unless you also wear the belt, best not get in our way. 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 seldom need 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 sword's as strong as ours, why bother being charming? If any dare to criticize in word or deed or song, We challenge them to trial at arms and show the world they're wrong. If one should rise up from the field to challenge our control He really will not bother us, however brave or bold. This man will never be a threat; he won't create a fuss. We'll just give him a belt like ours, and then he's one of us. 3.2 The Battle Song Three Ealdormere fighters were challenged by honour to die By their prince who had told them, "Prepare, for a battle is nigh. Their arms are too many, their swords are too strong, Should we bow in submission or fly?" To hell with the odds; we'll show them we know how to die. Hey, YUH! Your Highness, we're killing their men as we go So the gods of darkness will know that their sons are below. Now Justinian laughed and saluted the foe as he fell, And Pawl bit the dust with a grin that we know all too well, And the prince himself went out laughing and singing; A smile he did not try to hide. For dyin's no shame with brothers like these at your side. In the stillness that followed the battle, a murmur was heard As they rose and regrouped while our prince gave the foemen the word. "The magic of these lands works both ways For Wolf Pack and Foemen, it's true. So pick up your swords. We'll never surrender to you." 3.3 Prince Kildare Prince Kildare was a man so rare, and a man so rare was he. He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl, And he called for his minstrels three. "Alas, my love," sang the minstrels. "Melancholy men are we. And there's none so rare as can compare With the prince and his minstrels three." Prince Kildare was a man so rare, and a man so rare was he. He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl, And he called for his seneshals three. "Farble, farble, farble," said the seneschals. "Necessary men are we. And there's none so rare as can compare With the prince's bureaucracy." Prince Kildare was a man so rare and a man so rare was he. He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl, and he called for his shieldmen three. "Beer, beer, beer," cried the shieldmen. "Merry, merry men are we, And there's none so rare as can compare With the prince's infantry." Now Justinian was a son-of-a-gun, and a son-of-a-gun was he. He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl, And he called for his heralds three. "Scotch, scotch, scotch," cried the heralds. "Merry, merry men are we. We're proud to swear we don't compaer With the prince's infantry." 4 Songs by Lord Sigurd Leothsangr 4.1 Pennsic War Again We went down south last August in a bucket made of rust. Put sixteen tons of gear inside a car we couldn't trust, Our garb and our pavilion, suits of armour, sharpened steel. We wondered if we'd ever make the field. We headed for the Queensway. So much was on our mind. What would the customs guard say? What did we leave behind? When we groaned up to the Peace Bridge, it caused us to proclaim That we'd never go to Pennsic, not again. Not again, not again Till the food falls from the sky and beer comes down like rain. Though those who love it most may bug us till the end No, we'll never go to Pennsic, not again. There were fifteen hundred cars and trucks in every border line. They were pulling apart the mayor's car; what would they do to mine? My God, we're all in garb. Oh, no! My passport's still at home. They'll think we're Viking raiders out to roam. Acting normal's difficult in tunics, wraps and skins. We look like some Satanic cult; they'd never let us in. We'd spent hours in the lineup and we couldn't turn away, But we'd never go to Pennsic, not again... With just two cars before us we were nearly at the gate When a sickening fear came over us, too painful to relate. The guard he saw us coming through the corner of his eye And quickly waved the other drivers by. But he waved us in, all agrin, smiling ear to ear. "Why are you leaving Canada? What are you doing here?" "We're camping in New Castle," I said, like I'd been trained, But I'll never go to Pennsic, not again... He called us out so he could see the papers that we had, Asked a hundred million questions till I thought I would go mad, But when he saw my pain he said, "My noble, gentle lord, Greetings from the Khan of the Dark Horde. My friend, Customs' adversity has dealt its final blow. Venture freely into camp. I'll seek you when I go. Set up and then seek out my tent and leave behind your strain, And we'll make you enjoy Pennsic once again." Once again, once again Where the food tasted so good, and his beer fell down like rain. After going once, I must go to war again. And we'll all go to Pennsic once again. 4.2 Bruise Marks Alas, my lord, you do me wrong To beat my helm so mercilessly, For I have fought one tenth as long, And you have a better helm than me. Bruise marks were all my joy. Bruise marks were my delight. Bruise marks received and given All for my lady's company. I cannot see your rattan sword. It flies too fast for me to see. I made my shield of bristol board; 'Twas light, but failed so faithlessly. You duck and turn, avoid my blows. My sword you dodge so easily. Perhaps because it's garden hose I cannot score a mark on thee. Although I tread the tourney soil The marshal throws me from the fight. He finds my armour's all tin foil And my entry forms aren't filled out right. 4.3 Wild Viking I've been a wild Viking for many a year, but I've spend all my booty on women and beer. So now I'm returning to land on your shore, to loot and to raid. I'm a Viking once more. So let's rape, kill, pillage, Like we did often before Till we're loaded with treasure, For Viking once more. I'll go home to Norway with the rest of my crew, and I'll thank the All Father with all that I do, And when he has blessed me, as oft times before, then I'm bound for the long ships a Viking once more. Then I'll travel to Wessex where I used to frequent, and I'll tell all their nobles their Dane Geld's been spent. I'll burn up the country till the night's bright as day. Then I'll take all their money and travel away. 4.4 Henry VIII and the Married King Blues Well, I'm gonna write the Pope, I'm gonna write the Pontiff, "Take away this marriage, 'cause I really don't want it." Well, I wrote the Vatican, and it said, "King, You're wedded to her now; we don't wanna do a thing." Sometimes I wonder what I'm gonna do, But there ain't no cure for the married king blues. I said at the wedding I would treat her like I oughta, But it's different when you're married to the Spanish king's daughter. I wanna see my woman, gotta scratch my itch, But you can't when you're married to a royal bitch.... Gonna take my wife, gonna throw her in the Tower, Show that old woman who's the one with power. Now she's on my conscience; I just can't winn. Anybody seen my Anne Boleyn... The Pope won't help me so I'm gonna start a schism. Have my own religion; call it Anglicism. Now I can divorce anyone I wish And pay for honeymoons from the offering dish. Me and Cromwell know what we're gonna do -- Show you the meaning of the married king blues. 4.5 Plague Potion Number Nine I took my cauldron down to London Town. They got bubonic plague that's going round. I looked up the king and I made a magic sign, said, "What you need is Plague Potion Number Nine." I told him that I was a pagan dude with pagan power that he sure could use, Said that without my help he'd surely die. Told him he needed Plague Potion Number Nine. Well, he called on his bishops and they locked me away, Said they gonna burn me up the very next day. But the king started coughin'; he was willing to pay. I took my cauldron, brewed some herbs; He was okay. They tried to make me be a priest or a knight, baptize my body in some Christian rite. I left for the woods; I'm not going back again. I'll only give the countryside Plague Potion Number Ten. 4.6 The Day the Pagans Died A long, long time ago, I can still remember How the pagans used to help us smile, And I knew that if I beat my drum, all the folks were glad to come And maybe they'd be happy for a while. But now these Christians have us hurting. All the pagans they're converting. No one's at the solstice; they're in their towns at Christmas. They don't remember Odin's tales; they memorize their Gospels. The goddes will remember well the day the pagans died. They were singin' "Bye, bye to the trees and the sky. Forget our holy circles; we will worship inside." The village priestess had to sneak off and hide Singin', "This'll be the day that I die." And I met a bard of pagan tunes. I asked her to draw down the moon, But she just smiled and turned away. And I went out to a sacred grove to try and find someone I'd know, But not a word was spoken. The holy stones were broken, And the tri-gods I admired the most, the Huntsman, Goddess and their host Lived in secret down the coast, the day the pagans died. 4.7 Heartbreak Monastery Well since my lady left me I found a new place to be. It's out on the isle of Lindisfarne. It's called a monastery. Oh, baby, my heart was so lonely, baby. My heart was so lonely, My heart was so lonely, I could die. Well, we pray from morn till ev'ning. The dress code's brown or black. From holy life at Lindisfarne We'll never, ever go back. Oh, baby, my heart was so lonely, baby. My heart was so lonely, My heart was so lonely, I could die. Well, if your lady leaves you And you just can't stop the hurt, Devote your life to holy vows And join the mother church... 4.8 Pennsic Privateers The year was AS twenty six -- I wish I was in Ealdormere -- When invites came down from the king that Ealdormere might go Pennsicking -- God damn them all. Who asked me here To take the soil for Ealdormere -- We'd lead no charge, take no blows -- Now I've a broken shield and a fractured nose. The first to come, the first to go. The marshal called the canton wide -- I wish I was in Ealdormere -- For 40 brave knights with weapons and arms, with never a chance of pain or harm... The Pennsic field was a sickening mire -- I wish I was in Ealdormere -- It rained for a week coming down in jugs. You couldn't see the trees for mosquitos and bugs... We fought in groups and one to one -- I wish I was in Ealdormere -- I scored good hits, they counted them none. I dropped my sword; I wanted a gun... Our foes were drawn by casting lots -- I wish I was in Ealdormere -- A twelve foot monster's what I got. He dwarfed the pole arm that I brought... At last we both commenced the fight -- I wish I was in Ealdormere -- I circled round and round the field, but I couldn't see his body for his big war shield... 4.9 Rollin' Down to Ealdormere It's a damn tough life, full of toil and strife, that we vikings undergo, And we don't give a damn 'bout your king or his land Or how hard the wind does blow 'Cause we're homeward bound from a foreign ground 'Neath a sky that's bright and clear, And we don't give a damn when we drink our ale With the maids of Ealdormere. CHORUS Rollin' down to Ealdormere, me boys, Rollin' down to Ealdormere, And we don't give a damn when we drink our ale With the maids of Ealdormere. Once more we sail like a northern gale 'Neath a sky that calls for war. Our brave young lords with their spears and swords Come to raid upon your shore. Then it's homeward bound from your foreign ground; With your gold we'll disappear, And we don't give a damn when we drink our ale With the maids of Ealdormere CHORUS The North Sea mist strikes a blow like a fist When you face the sea alone. Far away from your hearth and the land of your birth And the ones you call your own. Through the dark and the storm their prayers reach out Hoping some fine day you'll hear Your ragged sails running 'fore the gales, Running home to Ealdormere. CHORUS A warrior's wage is of gold or the grave where the ravens feast and caw. When the wolves draw near, then the valkyrie appear, Lead the way to Odin's halls. No longer homeward bound from a foreign ground, From your world we'll disappear, And we don't give a damn when we drink our ale With the maids of Ealdormere CHORUS When our Prince does call many good men will fall 'Neath the spears of Aethelmarc. While our wives stay home with children alone Blades carry the widow's mark. So it's homeward bound we pray to be found With our families safe and near, And we don't give a damn 'bout your king or his land, just the folks of Ealdormere. 5. Songs by Uncle Justinian 5.1 The Swimming Hole When Pennsic war is getting me down I'm covered with mud and dust and blood and sweat, I climb right down to the base of the hill To find a special place that's cool and wet. The swimmin' hole's the only place I know Where you cannot distinguish friend or foe. When I'm at war feelin' tired and beat, I go down where the water's cold and sweet. I get away from the hustlin' crowd And all the rat race noise on Merchant Street. The swimmin' hole is where your trouble ends, A place that you can see more of your friends. I keep tellin' you that right smack dab in the middle of camp I've found a special place to chill your soul. So if Pennsic was is getting you down There's room enough for two at the swimmin' hole. 5.2 At the Annual Pennsic War There were knights, knights, wearing yellow tights At the War, at the War. There were knights, knights, wearing yellow tights At the annual Pennsic War. My head is sore, I cannot think, I have had far too much to drink. I have had far too much to drink. The King -- he makes your helmet ring. The Prince -- his sword blows make you wince. Etc. ad lib. 5.3 Down Here at Pennsic Early in the battle, just about lay-on time Gunther and the Wolf Pack were starting to unwind, Finding Eastern Tigers, and bop them on the head. They're not gonna leave the field till all of them are dead. Down here at Pennsic, fighting on the field, Gunther and the Wolf Pack are playing Making Eastern Tigers yield. Later in the battle, we fight with Calontir, Safe behind the shield wall, eating pizzar, drinking beer. Later on we grab a spear and wade out in the mob, and tonight for supper we have Tiger shish-ka-bob. 5.4 Where Have All the Flowers Gone? Where have all the flowers gone? Long time passing. Where have all the flowers gone? Long time ago. Where have all the flowers gone? Gone to ladies every one. When will they ever learn? When will they ever learn? Ladies ... gone to Young lords. Young lords ... turned to fighters. Fighters ... joined the Wolf Pack. Wolf Pack ... tiger hunting. Tigers ... gone to graveyards. Graveyards ... gone to flowers. 5.5 The War Trilogy So kiss me goodnight, Princess Cathrine. Tuck me in my little canvas tent. We all love you, Princess Cathrine, and to you our hugs and kisses send. Don't forget to wake us in the morning, and bring us a nice cup of tea. So kiss me goodnight, Princess Cathrine. Please be a mother to me. And then we'll hang up your favour on the Shield Wall Line. Have you any little favours, princess dear? Oh, yes, we'll hang up your favour on the Shield Wall Line, If the Shield Wall Line's still here. Whether the weather well be wet or fine We'll just bash along without a care, And then we'll hang up your favour on the Shield Wall Line, If the Shield Wall Line's still there. 'Cuz it's a long way to the Woods Battle; it's a long way to walk. It's a long, long way to the Woods Battle, by the way the marshals talk. Good bye to your campsite and all the ladies fair, 'Cuz it's a long, long way to the Woods Battle, and I will die there. 5.6 Baron Cord Baron Cord was a little bit bored, and a little bit bored was he. He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl and he called for his shieldmen three. "Beer, beer, beer," went the shieldmen. "Merry, merry men are we, And there's none so rare as can compare with Ramshaven infantry." Baron Cord was a little bit bored, and a little bit bored was he. He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl And he called for his pole arms three. "Thunk, thunk, thunk," went the pole arms. "Beer, beer, beer," went the shield men. "Merry, merry men are we. And there's none so rare as can compare with the Ramshaven infantry." "Whirl, whirl, whirl," went the two sticks... "Crunch," went the mace men... "Poke," went the spear men... "Knock the head right off," went the great swords... "Twang -- thunk!" went the archers... 6 Songs by Others 6.1 I Am A Jock (by Rhys ap Bledri) An August day in a Pennsic field battle. I am surrounded. Gazing at the shield wall advancing on my right, And from the left, there comes a hostile knight. I am a jock. I am a fighter. Castle walls, a fortress great and mighty that we must penetrate. We have no need for sappers; they just get in the way. Hand me my sword, and I'll carry the day. I am a jock; I am a fighter. I have my spear and a shield man to protect me. I am sweating in my armour. Fighting in the field, I will never yield. I slay them all, and no one touches me. I am a jock; I am a fighter. And a jock feels no pain, Even when he dies.... 6.2 Glenwhorple, or the "G" Song. There's a braw fine clan o' lads as ilka man should ken. They's de'ils at th' fichtin. They've clured a sicht o' men. They've suppit muckle whiskey when tae celaidgh they gang ben. The heilin men o' braw Glenwhorple. Hieught! Glenwhorple heilan men, Great stron', whiskey-suckin' heilan men. They were hard-workin', hairy-leggit heilan men. Slainte mhor, Glenwhorple! They were founded by MacAdam who of all the men was first. He resided in Glen Eden an' 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 of the deluge drookit all the whole world o'er The chieftain of the clan, ye know, his name was Sean MacNoah. So a muckle boat he biggit, and he sneckit up the door And he sailed away from drooned Glenwhorple. Old MacNoah sent a piper out to see if there was land. He came back wi' an empty whiskey bottle in each hand, But they couldna understand him; he was fu', ye understand, For he found a public house upon the water. Oh, there was a jock named Joshua, a sapper he by trade, He went away to Jericho upon a muckle raid. Th' walls they went a tumbling and wi' loot the lads were apid From the sappin' and the minin' in Glenwhorple. When wise King Solomon was ruler o' the clan He had a hundred pipers and a thousand fighting men And ten thousand wives and concubines, for as I'm sure ye ken He kept a powerful household in Glenwhorple. Oh, there was a birkie bangster, was the ruler of the clan. His name it was T'Wallace, and he was a fighting man, And he went about the border, and the Southron turned and ran From the dinging of the claymore in Glenwhorple. Many of the clansmen went and left their heilen homes. They loaded up on ships, about the world to roam. They were looking for a special place to call their very own. That's how Ealdormere became Glenwhorple. Oh what a sight this morning, with the clan all on parade, With the piper and the claymore, and the braw Glenwhorple plaid, And the piper almost sober, and the chieftain not afraid Of seeing tartan spiders in Glenwhorple. 6.3 Under the Shield Wall (wrds by Andrixos and Chidiock) O when the sun is hot and your head's melting in your helm And though you fight and fight neither side can overwhelm, Under the shield wall, it's the place to be, yeah.. With my lady beside me, willingly. Under the shield wall -- where it's quiet and dark. Under the shield wall -- like our own private park. Under the shield wall -- pole arms crashing above. Under the shield wall -- we'll be making love. Under the shield wall -- shield wall. O it's the safest place that a fighter can ever be. No weapon reaches there to break our sweet tranquility. Under the shield wall, out of the sun With my lady beside me, we're having fun. So when the battle's joined and you find yourself in the press, Why don't you seek me there, take a break from the battle stress. Under the shield wall, it's the place to be, yeah With my lady beside me, carnally. 6.4 My Old Man My old man's a fighter. What do you think about that? He wears a fighter's tabard; he wears a fighter's hat; He wears a fighting tunic, and he wears fighter's shoes, And every day at Pennsic, he reads the daily news. And some day, if I can, I'm going to be a fighter, just like my old man. My old man's a Baron. What do you thing about that? He wears a Baron's tabard; he wears a nice gold hat; He wears a Baron's tunic, and he wears leather shoes, And every day at Pennsic, someone reads him the news. And some day, if I can, I'm going to be a Baron, just like my old man. My old man's the King. What do you think about that? He wears a kingdom tabard; he wears a pointy hat; He wears embroidered tunics, and he wears pointy shoes, And every day at Pennsic, he makes the front page news, And some day, if I can, I'm going to be the King, just like my old man. My old man's a herald. What do you think about that? He wears a herald's tabard; he wears a wide-brimmed hat; He wears a herald's tunic, and he wears sensible shoes, And every day at Pennsic, he cries the daily news, And some day, if I can, I'm going to be a herald, and shout at my old man. My old man's a merchant. What do you think about that? He'll sell you any tabard; he'll sell you any hat; He'll sell you any tunic; he'll sell you any shoes, And every day at Pennsic, His children shout, "PENNSIC DAILY TIDINGS, ONLY FIFTY CENTS!" And some day, if I can, I'm going to be a merchant, and sell you my old man. My old man's a Pelican. What do you think about that? He'll help you make a tabard; he'll help you buy a hat; He'll help you sew a tunic; he'll help you pick out shoes, And every day at Pennsic, he helps put out the news. And some day, if I can, I'm going to be a Pelican, and help out my old man. My old man's a Tuchuk. What do you think about that? He doesn't own a tabard; he has a fake fur hat; He doesn't wear a tunic; he hasn't any shoes, And every day at Pennsic, he eats the daily news. And some day, if I can, I don't want to be a Tuchuk, not like my old man. My old man's a Laurel. What do you think about that? He wears a completely authenticated, fully documented tabard, and a completely authenticated, fully documented hat, And a completely authenticated, fully documented tunic, and completely authenticated, fully documented shoes, And every day at Pennsic, he refuses to read the Pennsic Daily Tidings because his persona would not have been able to understand English, And some day, if I can, I'm going to be a Laurel and criticize my old man. My old man's a stick jock. What do you think about that? He wears faded blue jeans; he wears a baseball hat; He wears a dirty T-shirt, and white Nike shoes, And every day at Pennsic he fights, And some day, if I can, I'm going to be a stick jock, and beat up my old man. 6.5 I'm a Viking (and I'm Okay) I'm a Viking, and I'm okay. I rape and pillage for my pay. I chop down trees, I build long ships, I sail across the see. I don't believe in shopping, so I practice robbery. I'm a Viking... We chop down doors, we loot the church, we burn the village down. We put on funny helmets to party in your town. We like the French, they have nice things, we like to rob them blind. Their women are so willing to help a man unwind. We don't like the Saxons; they always bitch and moan. They've got this guy named Alfred who pays us to stay home. When I get home I kiss my wife and give my dog a bone. ...Or have I got that backwards...? 6.6 Witch of the Westmorland Pale was the wounded knight that bore the rowan shield. Loud and cruel were the ravens' cries as they feasted on the field Saying, "Beck water cold and clear will never cleanse your wounds. There's none but the witch of the Westmorland can make thee hale and soon. So turn, turn, your stallion's head, let his red mane fly in the wind And the rider of the moon goes by, and the bright star falls behind." And clear was the paling moon when shadows passed him by. Below the hill were the brightest stars when he heard the owlet cry. Saying, "Why do you ride this way, and wherefore came you here?" "I seek the withc of the Westmorland who dwells by the winding mere." And it's merely by the Ullswater, by the misty Break-ford way, Till through the cleft of the Kirkstane pass the winding water lay. He said, "Lie down my brindled hound, and rest thee my good gray hawk, And thou, my steed, may graze thy fill, for I must dismount and walk. But come when you hear my horn, and answer swift the call, For I fear before this night is o'er you may serve me best of all." And it's down to the water's brim he's borne the rowan shield, And the goldenrod he has cast in to see what the lake will yield. And wet rose she from the lake, and fast and fleet went she, One half the form of a maiden fair, with a jet black mare's body. And loud, long and shrill he blew till his steed was by his side, And overhead the grey hawk flew, and swiftly he did ride, Saying, "course well, my brindled hound. Fetch me the jet black mare. Stoop and strike, my good grey hawk, and bring me the maiden fair." She said, "Pray sheath thy silvery sword, lay down thy rowan shield, For I see by the briny blood that flows you were wounded in the field." And she stood in a gown of the velvet blue, bound round with a silver chain, And she kissed his pale lips once and twice and three times round again. And she's bound his wound with the golden rod. Fast in her arms he lay, And he has risen hale and soon with the sun high in the day. She said, "Ride with your brindled hound at heel, and your good gray hawk in hand. There's none can harm a knight who's lain with the witch of the Westmorland." 6.7 Music, Sex and Cookies When I come round to your tent, well you know how it goes. The first thing is, I'll woo you with a bag of Oreos. I'll sing you special love songs, to show my love is true, And then I'll take you in my arms and make sweet love to you. 'Cause it's music, sex and cookies, cookies, music and sex, And it really doesn't matter what order I get 'em in, I'm lovin' 'em all the best. Tried therapy and honesty, was lost but now am found, But it's music, sex and cookies that make my world go round. But we are both on diets, and cookies aren't much fun. At a hundred and fifty calories apiece, we can't eat even one. But I can still sing love songs, 'cause they are sugar free, And I will always be satisfied with the best two out of three. This summer while at Pennsic, we're roasting in the sun, Though even when it's raining, we sure can have some fun. 'Cause I have got a songbook, digestives and sweet you, And we can play some indoor sports until the sky is blue. Someday I'll make you Princess, and I'll be your sweet Prince, And then we'll have to sit through courts so long they make us wince. I'll make them bring us shortbreads, and sing a Hector song, And then we'll make them go away. We'll cuddle all night long. 6.8 The Moose Song When I was a young man I used to like girls. I fondled their bodies and played with their curls. But my girlfriend ran off with a salesman named Bruce. You'd never get treated that way by a moose. CHORUS: So it's moose, moose, I like a moose. I've never had anything quite like a moose. I've had many lovers; my morals are loose, But I've never had anything quite like a moose. Now when I'm in need of a very good lay I go to me stables and get me some hay. I opens my window and spreads it around, 'Cause Moose always comes when there's hay on the ground. Now I've made it with all kinds of beasties with hair. I'd make it with snakes if their fangs were not there. I've made it with walrus, two ducks and a goose, But I've never had anything quite like a moose. Now gorillas are fine for a Saturday night, And lions and tigers, they puts up a fight, But it just ain't the same when you slams their caboose As the feeling you get when you hump on a moose. I've tried many beasties on land and on sea. I've even tried hump-backs that humped back on me. Sharks are quite good, though they're hard to pull loose, But on dry land there is nothing quite like a moose. Woodchucks are all right except that they bite, And foxes and rabbits won't last through the night. Cows would be fun, but they're hard to seduce, But you never need worry should you find a moose. Step in my study, and trophies you'll find. A black striped tiger and a scruffy maned lion. You'll know the elephant by his ivory tooth, And the one that's a winking, you know is the moose. The lion succumbed to a thirty-ought-six. Machine guns and tigers I've proved do not mix. The elephant fell by a bomb with a fuse, But I won't tell a soul how I did in the moose. I've found many women attracted to me. A few of them have had me over for tea. Some say that they love me when they're feeling loose, But I'd trade the world's women for one lovely moose. The good Lord made Adam, and then He made Eve. Said he, "If you sin now, I'll ask you to leave." They left not because of Eve's forbidden fruit, But 'cause Adam decided the moose there were cute. The English are said to like boars who've had corn. The Celtics just dream of the young unicorn. The Germans, it's said, just need leather and rope, But give me a moose, and I'll no longer mope. Now I've broken the laws in this god-awful state. They've put me in prison and locked up the gate. They say that tomorrow I'll swing from a noose, But my last night I'll spend with a good, sexy moose. Next morning the Governor's word reached my ears. "We've commuted your sentence to ninety-nine years. You won't get parole, not a five-minute truce, And your friend goes to Sing-Sing; he's so big-a-moose." Now that I'm old and advanced in my years, I'll look back on me life, and I'll shed me no tears, As I sit in my chair with my glass of Mateuse And play hide the salami with Millie the Moose. 6.9 Do Virgins Taste Better 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 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 saltier, 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 wed like to be shed you, and many have tried, But no one can get through your thick, scaly hide. We hope that some day some brave knight will come by, 'Cause we can't wait around till 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 barbequed wench. Now we've found a solution, it works out so neat. If you insist on nothing but virgin to eat, No more will our number ever grow small. We'll simply make sure there's no virgins at all. 6.10 A Dragon's Retort Well, now I'm 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 decah and my trim go to pot. Yes, virgins taste better than those 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 barbequed wench tastes like candy to me. 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 only virgins for lunch.