💾 Archived View for spam.works › mirrors › textfiles › music › songsjon.txt captured on 2023-06-16 at 19:19:57.

View Raw

More Information

-=-=-=-=-=-=-















                       JANOS' LITTLE BROWN BOOK

                      OF SONGS OF THE KNOWN WORLD

                                   *

          Songs from various sources and even more various and or
          questionable origin. There is no warranty implied or even
          suggested as to the legality of even being caught with
          this book in your hands. I have attempted where *possible
          to give credit where credit is due, and even when it is
          not. Names have not been changed to protect the guilty!

                                   *


                         Edition of 02 Oct 89


































                     A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR/COMPILER:


               These booklet contains the songs I have learned,
          and have had requested during local bardic circles. I
          must say, I borrowed the idea from Master Ioseph of
          Locksley, and his collection of songs.

               This songbook, like all of them that I have in my
          collection, is not meant to sit on a shelf. It is meant
          to sit open, where you can see it while you play.

               It is an ever growing collection of music, which I
          will always be expanding, and increasing as I learn new
          songs from SCA sources. I hope one day to be able to say
          I know enough SCA songs that I can play requests, but
          until that day, I offer this humble collection of my own
          works, and those songs which I like to sing.

                              Ld. Janos Throngcleaver,
                                   Companion Trimarian Bards Laureate
                                   Companion Healer's Lamp Trimaris
                                   Bard of House Four Pheons


                              mka:

                                   Jonathan E. Hawes
                                   The Shire Scribe Calligraphy Shoppe
                                   P.O. Box 3431
                                   Cocoa, FL 32924-3431














                                 INDEX
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

     A SONG TO STRIDER.......................................  6
     ACKNOWLEDEMENTS......................................... 34

     COLD IRON............................................... 18

     DARIEN'S SONG...........................................  4

     FELLOWSHIP GOING SOUTH.................................. 16
     FLOWER OF THE DESERT.................................... 15

     KARELIA'S SONG.......................................... 19

     LORD OF THE DANCE....................................... 30

     MAMAS, DON'T LET YOUR BABIES GROW UP TO BE VIKINGS...... 32

     ONE EVENT DAY...........................................  2

     SONG OF THE RED WAR BOAT................................ 24

     THE BALLAD OF THE BLUE ROSE............................. 20
     THE BURDEN OF THE CROWN................................. 14
     THE LOST CRUSADE........................................ 22
     THE PALACE.............................................. 28
     THE WINNERS............................................. 17
     TOURNAMENT..............................................  1
     TROUBADORE'S CHALLENGE.................................. 10

     VERY MANY PEOPLE........................................ 23

     WAR OF THE ROSES........................................  8
     WELCOME TO THE CURRENT MIDDLE AGES...................... 26
     WITCH OF THE WESTMERE LAND.............................. 12



















                         INDEX (cont)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------





















































                         TOURNAMENT
                              - by Janos Throngcleaver
                                   (c)1989 The SHIRE SCRIBE
            Am
          I am a merchant wanderer, I
                    G
                    search the world for things to trade in,
           F
          seek the things that men would want,
                    E
                    gather them to bring to you, and,


          Now I've seen the prize of glory.
                    lusted for by men who challenge,
          death to wear the circle made of
                    gold upon their heads, and I've seen

          Kingdoms wait in desperate silence,
                    combatants now, they seek each other,
          striking out till one of them must
                    die upon the ground, at last and,

          One by one, the numbers dwindle,
                    till at last two are chosen
          two alone, together, they will
                    fight until the last is standing.

          Only then a King emerges,
                    stronger now to rule the Kingdom,
          stronger now to face the challenge of
                    gold upon his head , And now...

          Wish him well and bless His judgement,
                    for heavy is the golden circle,
          bearing down on heart and soul, and the
                    King must bear it all alone, and

          Bless this King, and bless these subjects,
                    Bless this land they call Trimaris,
          I will carry all of you no
                    matter where I may wander,

          I am a merchant wanderer,
                    I search the world for things to trade in,
          Seek the things that men would want
                    and gather them to bring to you, and

          Now I've seen the prize of glory,
                    worn by one, an King who challenged
          death to wear the circle made of
                    E             Am           G
                    Gold upon his head..on his head,
                      F         E            Am
          He wore the circle of gold, on his head
                         ONE EVENT DAY
                              - by Janos Throngcleaver
                                   (c)1989 The SHIRE SCRIBE

          Am
          The sunlight is coming up unto the trees,
               Am  F                   Am
               the Herald calls in the morning.
          Am
          The camp seems to stir, as if from a breeze,
               Am  F
               the Herald bids all, "GOOD MORNING!"


            G                          Am
          Embrace the new morning, and old day is come.
                   G                  Am
               The past is alive this day!
              Am             G           F                 Em
          For begining right now, and at least through the morn,
                    G                      Am
               I'll live in this One Event Day


          The Marshals and warriors gather to fight
               the Herald calls them to battle.
          The Chivalry witness to make sure it's right,
               the Herald calls over the rattle.

          I sing of a time of Chivalry found
               and Honour to light the way,
          for beginning right now, and at least till the morn
               I'll live in this One Event Day.

          The Laurels are guided to share all their skills
               the Herald shall call them together.
          The Pelicans share gifts through their works and wills,
               the Herald calls Peers of a Feather.

          From Shire and Canton and Barony come,
               m'ladies, m'lords, this way,
          and begining right now, and at least till the morn,
               we'll live in this One Event Day

          The time passes quickly it's even so soon
               the Herald calls, FEAST IN AN HOUR!
          Small beastlets, and victuals for bowl knife and spoon,
               the Herald says, *Careful, that's sour.

          I raise up my cup, to toast KIng and Queen,
               to the populus I can say...
          That I know I've done right, so at least till the morn,
               Let's live in this One Event Day.

                         * more *
                    ONE EVENT DAY (cont)


          Around the campfire a candle is passed
               where songs and stories are spoken.
          Here peasants, and Heralds, and Royalty Caste,
               are equals at trying the token.

          The day ends at last, and we drift off to sleep,
               refreshed in our Camalot way.
          And it all ends too soon, but at least till the morn
               we'll live in this One Event Day.

          The sunlight is coming up unto the trees
               no Herald calls us this morning.
          The camp seems so somber, the packings no breeze.
               It's back to mundanity mornings.

              G                  Am
          But I look ahead at my calendar clear,
                   G                 Am
               and know of events to be.
                  Am         G             F         Em
          Be they one day or weekend, I'll try to be there
                   G
               and then I can once again say
               Am              G           F              Em
          That beginning right now, and at least till the dawn
                    G                      Am
               I'll live in this One Event Day
                         G                      Am
                    I'll live in this One Event Day....























                         DARIEN'S SONG
                              - by Janos Throngcleaver
                                   (c)1989 by The SHIRE SCRIBE

D                                        Em                A
And the boy walked up to the Knight, and asked him what it was,
D                                         G----A
All the shiney, jangley, dangly things he wore.
D                                               Em               A
And the Knight looked down upon the boy and saw wonder there within,
D                                         G----A
so he shared the words he heard so long before.


(Chorus)*
              G       G/F#     Em            A         D
  |  That the Belt is for your Chastity, and Purity of Spirit,
  |      G        G/F#       Em           A
  |  the Spurs to speed your Gallentry and Strength,
  |          G          G/F#   Em                   A               D
  |  and the Chain, the Golden Chain, reveals, your promise to your kingdom,
  |          G        G/F#    Em               G             A
  |  and the oath you swore, upon the sword, before a mighty King


So the boy road out with the Knight, and learned from him the way,

of Honour, Love, War, and Chivalry,

And he grew up strong, fought hard and long, and one day came to be,

that in Royal Court, the Knight said, "COME TO ME!"


  |  And this Red Belt's for your willingness to shed the Blood of Honour,
  |
  |  and the Spurs to speed your Gallentry and Strength,
  |
  |  and this Chain, this Silver Chain, reveals, the oath we make together,
  |
  |  and the Fealty sworn on this Knights sword, before this mighty King.


So the Squire road out with his Knight, and fought for Love, for Honour.

and a mighty warrior soon he did become.

And He stood before the Chivalry in the first part of Septembre,

Welcome Brother, with us you are one.


               * more *


                    DARIEN'S SONG (cont)


  |  So He donned the Belt of Chastity, and Purity of Spirit,
  |
  |  and the Spurs to speed his Gallentry and Strength,
  |
  |  and the Chain, the Golden Chain, revealed His promise to his Kingdom,
  |
  |  and the oath He swore upon the Sword, before that Mighty King.


and the boy walked up to the Knight, and asked him what it was,

all the shiney, *jangley, dangly things he wore.

and the Knight knelt down beside the boy, and remembered his own time,

and he shared the words he'd heard so long before;



  |  That the Belt is for your Chastity, and Purity of Spirit,
  |
  |  and the Spurs to speed your Gallentry and Strength,
  |
  |  and this Chain, this Golden Chain, reveals, my promise to this Kingdom,
  |
  |  and the oath I swore, upon the sword, before our Mighty King...



  |  and the Belt is for your Chastity, and Purity of Spirit,
  |
  |  the Spurs to speed your Gallentry and Strength,
  |
  |  and the Chain, the Golden Chain, reveals, your promise to your kingdom,
  |
  |  and the oath you swore, upon the sword, before a mighty King
















                    A SONG TO STRIDER
                              - by Janos Throngcleaver
                              - (c)1989 by The Shire Scribe

D             Bm      G               A
Twelve years ago, she journeyed from afar
          D              Bm            G                A
     from wyvernwood, to find a home, along the sea and stars.
    G               D                  F#                 Bm---Bm/A
She saw the rise of newborn stars, and knew she'd found a home.
     G          D       A                D
     Muireann Deora-de, no more will you roam.


She called the land Starhaven, and in her burned a fire,

     to bring this land to greatness, to start anew a Shire.

And o'er the years, she saw it grow, like a gentle childhood friend.

     Muireann Deora-de, we ne're thought it'd end.


With Chivalry and kindness, you showed us all the way

     to live the spirit of the Dream, each and every day.

A Royal Peer, you showed us all, what Lady truly means.

     Muireann Deora-de, your time here's up it seems


      Bm               A
  |  Again she walks, among new lands
  |              G                D
  |       Her strength and will renewed
  |     Bm                  A
  |  We wish you well, with blessings walk
  |          G                     A
  |       in peace, we'll all miss you.


Twelve years ago, she journeyed from afar

     from Wyvernwood, to find a home, along the sea and stars.

She journeys still among the stars, God's Pilgrim, and a friend.

     Muireann Deora-de, wanders once again.

     Muireann Deora-de, I'll miss you, my dear friend.



























































                         WAR OF THE ROSES
                              - words by Janos Throngcleaver (Jonathan Hawes)
                                      as published by The Shire Scribe (c)1989
                                to the tune of "RUN AROUND SUE"
<verse 1>

(Softly)      C
     When the tourney began the risk was great.
   Am
     The time was now, it was getting late,
   F
     A challenge said, a challenge met...
   G
     and she hadn't got to the lyste field yet.

(Quickly)

    The task was great, the challenge was on,

     the fighters met, they came and were gone,

     a hasty word, a gauntlet thrown,

     if only Atalaya could have known...

          C                          Am
(trans)   PLANTS! We all saw her eat plants
                         F
          Not a bit of romance
                           G
          Yellow roses are plants!

              F
(Chorus)  The War of the Roses was on...
               C
          Sir Brenden ate his rose and was gone.
              F
          Her highness made the Peli stay,
          G
          she'd won, until another day...


     Now, Sir Brenden made a statemant before those enmass
     He would not let this deed just pass
     he said before the suns come and gone,
     I'll swear the War of the Roses is on.

     My chosen consort will reign as my queen,
     revenge is SWEET, as all now have seen.
     I pledge myself, my strength and my might,
     to set the War of the Roses aright.




          Plants! We all saw him eat plants!
          Without giving a glance,
          Yellow roses are plants!

          The War of the Roses is on,
          Sir Brenden ate his rose and was gone.
          Her Highmess made the Peli stay,
          she'd won, until another day...


     Well the battle goes on from high down to low...
     The word is spread wherever I go.
     When the ladies games thay do play,
     This little troubadore stays out of the way...

(slowly)

     It's not the end of the tale this is tru.
     That's not occured, but I'm telling you,
     I'll be there to watch on that day,
     When Sir Brenden finally gets his way...

          Plants! maybe then THEY'LL eat plants
          at a break at the dance...
          If we live there's a chance...

     ( Then break into a series of Wa-Wa sounds to round out the ending.)


Author's Note: This song was performed at the Royal Court of HRM Llewelyn
     and Elina, at the Michealmas event, AS XXIV, in honor of the events
     that occured during thier Coronation Court.























                     TROUBADORE'S CHALLENGE
                              - by Moricc Haast
                                   (c)1984 William Ritchie

        F          C          G
So you say your a troubadore with your own song,
    F              C             G
  And that you would wear well the chain.
    F             C            G
The challenge is set, and the populus waits,
   F            C         G
  so give us your finest refrains.
   F           C              G
We ask nothing more than the finest you have
     F            C              G
  the fruit of your heart and your voice,
     F               C            G
For those that sing with you will be judged as well
   F        C      G
  We offer no easier choice.

(CHORUS)
        C            G           D
When we fight do you know how we feel?
     C             G          D
  The smell of warm leather and steel;
        C                 G               D
Have you held close your lord or your lady so tight?
         C               G            D
  Have you danced and then sung in the night?



Do you know well the glimmer of soft candlelight?

  Do you know well the sweet taste of mead?

Do you know well the fellowship of Gentle folk?

  For it's this and much more that you'll need.

Have you passed round the candle on cold winter nights?

  Have you crafted things by your own hand?

Have your tears sprung unbidden for some soft lament?

  Then step forth and make well your stand.


(Chorus)




     TROUBADORE'S CHALLENGE  <cont>
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Can you bring out the silver of laughter and mirth,

  Can you conjure the azure of tears'

Can you call forth the scarlet of sportsman-like war,

  Can you hearken to past golden tears?

Can you sing to the war drums, and make the floor shake,

  Can you sing to the forests of green?

Can you sing to the velvet-clad ladies and lords,

  can you make us see what you have seen?


(Chorus)


Remember the lessons of Rhyme, Flask, and Flame,

  Remember the Colour of Sleep,

Remember, some evenings, to Sing the Moon Down;

  And Arthur's ideals must you keep.

For if you sing rightly, your road will begin,

  to carry forth music and word,

So belt up your verses, and make sharp your rhymes,

  And stand fast until we have heard


(Chorus) X 2














                    WITCH OF THE WESTMERE LAND
                              - author unknown at this time
                              * transcribed from a recording of Baldwin of
                                Erabore, taken during SCA's Twentieth Year
                                Celebration
                                                       ( * - Capo on 2nd fret )
D                    G            D               G
Pale was the wounded knight, that bore the rowan shield,
D                       Em                G              A
Loud and cruel were the ravens cries that feasted on the field.
        D                    G           D                G
Saying, That water, cold and clear, will never clean your wound.
        D                        Em               G                  A
There's none but the Maid of the Winding Mere can make thee hale and soon.


So, course well my brindle hounds, and fetch me the mountain hare

whose coat is as grey as the west waters or as white as the lily fair.

He said green moss and heather bends will never staunch the flood

there's none but the Witch of the Westmere Land can save thy dear life's blood.


So turn, turn your stallion's head till his red mane flies in the wind

and the rider of the moon goes by and the bright star falls behind

And clear was the paling moon when his shadow passed him by

Below the hill were the brightest stars when he heard the owlette cry.


Saying, "Why do ye ride this way and wherefore came ye here?"

"I seek the Witch of the Westmere Land that dwells by the winding mere."

Then fly free your good grey hawk to gather the goldenrod

and face your horse into the clouds above yon gay green wood.


And it's weary by owl's water, and the misty break fern way,

Still through the cleft in the Kirksten pass, the winding waters lay.

He said Lie down my brindle hound, and rest my good grey hawk,

and thee, my steed, may graze thy fill for I must dismount and walk.


                         * more *


              WITCH OF THE WESTMERE LAND (cont)


But come when ye hear my horn and answer swift the call,

for I fear ere the sun shall rise this morn you will serve me best of all.

And its down to the waters rim, he's born the rowan shield

and the goldenrod he has cast in to see what the lake might yield


And wet rose She from the lake, and fast and fleet is 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

High overhead the grey hawk flew, and swiftly he did ride.


Saying, Course well my brindle hound and fetch me the jet black mare

Stoop and strike my good grey hawk and bring me the maiden fair.

She said, Lay down thy silver sword, lay down thy rowan shield,

for I see by the briney blood that flows you've been wounded in the field.


And she stood in a gown of velvet blue bound round with a silver chain,

she's kissed his pale lips once and twice, and three times round again.

and she's bound his wound with the goldenrod, fall 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 brindle hound at heel, and your good grey hawk in hand

There's none can harm a knight what's lain with the Witch of the Westmere land.

She said, Ride with your brindle hound at heel, and your good grey hawk in hand

There's none can harm a knight what's lain with the Witch of the Westmere land.



     Note: The finger pick pattern used by Baldwin of Erabore in the
               tape is basically a Banjo two-finger in/out roll.




                        THE BURDEN OF THE CROWN
                                   - by Baldwin of Erabor
                                   - (c)1979 by Derek Foster
                                                       (* Capo on 3rd fret)

    G              Em          C               D
The battlefield is silent. The shadows growing long
            G              Em               Am              D
     though I may view the sunset, I'll not live to see the dawn.
    G          C         G   Em      C               D
The trees have ceased to rustle, the birds no longer sing.
         G      C        G   Em        C       D    G
     All nature seems to wonder at the passing of a king


And now you stand before me, your father's flesh and blood
     begotten of my sinews on the woman that I loved,
So difficult the birthing, that the mother died that day,
     and now you stand before me, to bear my crown away.


The hour is fast approaching when you come into your own.
     when you take the ring and scepter, and sit upon the throne.
Before that final hour, when we both must meet our fate,
     pray, gaze upon the Royal Crown, and marvel at its weight.


This cup of burnished metal, is the symbol of our land
     supporting all we cherish, the dreams for which we stand
The weight you'll find is nothing, when you hold it in your hand,
     the Burden of the Crown begins the day you put it on.


See how the jewels sparkle, as you gaze at it again
     Each facet is a subject, whose rights you must defend.
Every point of light a burden, you must shoulder with your own.
     and mighty is the burden, on the man upon the throne


The day is nearly ended. My limbs are growing cold.
     I feel the angels waiting to receive my passing soul
Keep well for me my kingdom, when my memory is dead,
     and forgive me for the burden, I place upon your head












                  FLOWER OF THE DESERT
                              - author unknown to me at this time
                              * transcribed from a recording of Baldwin of
                                Erabore during the SCA's Twentieth Year
                                Celebration

    D             Em   G                   D
One cold winter's evening, I stopped at an Inn
                  F#m                  G
     I met a bold Captain, a leader of men.
               D      F#m          G
He asked me to join him for he was alone,
                   Em     G                  D
     and as we sat drinking, he spoke of his home.


D                       F#m                 G
Oh, Flower of the Desert, full well may you boast.
                     Em                          D
     Proud father of Kingdom's, from mountain to coast.
D                      F#m                    G
The Land of the Phoenix, your works have been felt.
                       Em    G     D
     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 number my days.
     And I think on 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 my 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 Captain was gone.
But I think on his story, wherever I bide.
     What a beautiful Kingdom, to inspire such pride.











                     FELLOWSHIP GOING SOUTH
                              - by Leslie Fish
                              - (c)1984 Off Centaur Publications, BMI
                                                       ( * - Capo on 3rd fret )
Am                                 F              D
What is Courage Now? Is is just to go until we're done?
Dm      G              C                       F
Men may call us heroes when they can say we've won -
                 Dm        G
but if we should fail, how then?
Em              Am
What is Courage Now?


Mountains to our side, Standing like a wall against the sky.

Show no path to let us through, yet still we search and try,

silver snow and stone cold blue

Mountains to our side.


River from the pines, we can hear your echo far away.

To your banks our steps must lead. Help us on our way,

We who know you lend your speed.

River from the pines


Star above the world, seeing down the ways that we must go.

Throw down light to guide a friend, or how else can we know

If there's hope where pathways end?

Star above the world.




What is Courage Now? In the hope we know that holds us fast,

Bear us to the final door and win us free at last

Or we touch this world no more.

What is Courage Now?





                         THE WINNERS
                              - by Rudyard Kipling & Leslie Fish
                              - (c)1987 Off Centaur Publications, BMI

Am          G          Am        G
What is the moral? Who rides may read.
                                       Am       G             C          E
                              When the night is thick and the tracks are blind.
Am            G          Am     G
A friend at a pinch is a friend indeed,
                                    AM      G            E         Am
                              But a fool to wait for the laggard behind.
F       C          F         C    E
Down to Gehenna or up to the Throne,
                                 Am                  G             Am
                              he travels the fastest - who travels alone.


White hands cling to the tightened rein,
                              slipping the spur from the booted heel,
Tenderest voices cry "Turn Again!"
                              Red lips tarnish the scabbarded steel.
High hopes faint on a warm hearth stone -
                              He travels the fastest, who travels alone

One may fall but he falls by himself
                              falls by himself with himself to blame.
One may attain and to him is the pelf -
                              loot of the city in Gold or Fame.
Plunder of earth shall be all his own -
                              who travels the fastest, and travels alone.

Therefore the more be you helped and stayed,
                              Stayed by a friend in the hour of toil,
Sing the heretical song I have made -
                              his be the labor, and yours the spoil.
Win by his aid and the aid disown -
                              he travels the fastest, who travels alone!

                              He travels the fastest who travels alone!















                          COLD IRON
                              - by Rudyard Kipling & Leslie Fish
                              - (c)1987 Off Centaur Publications, BMI

 Am                         D
"Gold is for the mistress - silver for the maid -
     F              G         Em             Am
     Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade."
F                 Dm     F              G
"Good!" cried the Baron, sitting in his hall,
          Am    G    Am    C      G              Am
     "But Iron, Cold Iron, is the master of them all."


So he made rebellion against the King, his liege,
     camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege.
"Nay," said the cannoneer on the castle wall,
     "But Iron, Cold Iron, shall be master over 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 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 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 oils for weary hearts all cut and bruised with wrong.
"I forgive thy treason - I redeem your 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 Chivalry, is master of men all!"

                         KARELIA'S SONG
                              - Words and music by Iolo FitzOwen
                              - Written by David R. Watson

                                                       * ( capo on 3rd fret )
    C        Dm           Am             Em
The Baron of Eastmarche's fair sorceress daughter
         F           C               F           G
     was enamored unseemly with the fool of her Lord.
           C                     Dm               Am            Em
Though her Duke was deemed quite handsome, he was also vain and petty,
           F            C        G             C
     and a dark mind as empty as last summer's gourd.
        C           Dm          Am           Em
But the fool he was cleaver and sang for the Lady,
            F           C           F           G
     like a nightingale piping in a deep forest grove.
        C           Dm             Am       Em
But his station was lowly, and his body was aging,
               F           C              G       C
     and their love was as hopeless as if he were stone.


So the lady has led them, the fool and her husband,

     to a cool secret garden by the mid-summer's moon.

And she danced them a spell there of shifting and changing

     and left them dumbfounded by sorcery's boon.

She left the fool crying to the Gods of his fathers,

     she led her Duke laughing, to her high chamber door.

And she's kept him there softly, through two days bright dawnings,

     while the servants all gossip in wonder and awe.


Now the fool died in madness, saying he was ensorcelled,

     and the Duke only smiled then, a sad secret smile.

Now the Duke rules his people, with wit and good humor,

     and sings to his lady like a nightingale's song.

She has borne him five children, two sons and three daughters.

     They've grown straight and handsome, and sorcerous all.

And they dance in the moonlight, and sing in the garden,

     like nightingales piping in green forest halls.
                  THE BALLAD OF THE BLUE ROSE
                              - by Coral de chauncey and Brad of Cambria
                              - Words by Wendy Murphy, Music by Brad Banyan

   Dm                                B              C
An April witch came to Dirkshire ten years ago this Belthane eve.
           Dm                                       B           C
     Spake she, "Your township's dearest prize will be my own before I leave."
     Dm                                    B
The Merchants went to hide their gold, the jewelers locked their jems away;
         C                  Dm                     B             C
     but she sought out our shire's best bard, and in her golden voice did say,
       Dm                                    B
"Come dance with me the rites of spring, the grey is slipping from the skies.
        C                  Dm               B         C               Dm
     To bring the bursting buds to bloom, I need, the fire, from your eyes."


His blue eyes dances as he played a run upon the lute he loved so well;

     "And what is it that you will give me in return, I pray thee tell?"

"I give to thee twelve precious stones, the finest diamonds earth e're made,

     "a mantle of the finest silk I may now offer you in trade,

"A castle made of ivory, to keep you safe from stormy skies;

    "For I must wake the Spring, and so, I need, the fire, from your eyes."


"I thank you, no. The evening sky is filled with jems enough for me.

     "I love a storm, and so, would find no peace in halls of ivory.

"In midnight's mystic mantle I do feel myself most finely dressed.

     "So, Lady, I must ask you now if you have offered up your best;

"for night draws nigh, 'tis time to sing, and we must say our fond goodbyes

     "if you've no better offering to tempt, the fire, from my eyes."


She stood in somber thought, a perfect maid of rare immortal light.

     "I'll grant you your souls secret wish to know true love for a single night.

"I know the secret longings hidden deep within the songs you sing,

     "and though I've never loved I must now for the sake of the rising Spring.

"I will fulfill your secret dream from now until the next sunrise

     "if you'll consent to let me have, the fire, from your eyes."
                  THE BALLAD OF THE BLUE ROSE (cont)


The midnight air was so alive, the stars so clear and bright

     that not a soul in all that town could sleep a wink that night.

Wild music danced upon the breeze, but was too quickly gone.

     With her first tears the April Witch arose before the dawn;

For a night or a season does what it must, it lives it's span and then it dies.

     She stole away from her sleeping love, taking, the fire, from his eyes.


Now, there's a festival in our fair Shire this Belthane eve.

     And the Bard is singing songs that only some of us believe,

of how on this day, for nine years upon one barren bush there grows

     our single perfect heralding of spring -- a bright blue rose.

He says it's where the witch's tears fell on that distant dawn;

     her remembering of a love that lived for one night, and then was gone.


And the stranger's wonder why, when the Bard sings this song he cries,

     and the tears flow down his pallid cheeks from grey, and empty eyes.























                       THE LOST CRUSADE
                              - by Brad of Cambria
                              - (c)1987 by Brad Banyan


(Spoken)
As an angry crusader, I fought for romance,
     In a world that had pushed it aside,
The returned home to find that I'd been gone too long,
     For the rose that I'd planted had died.
          The rose I had planted had died.

  D                    C
Bedecked in my armor I stormed past the guards
            D                       C
     To the courtier of my would-be bride
   D                         C
He told me he loved her, she told me the same,
          D                C         D
     So I blessed them and off I did ride.
            D                C         D
          I blessed them and off I did ride.

    D                       C
The last time I saw her was on her way north,
             D                       C
     to the castle where she would reside.
    D                         C
We laughed and we sang almost all the way there,
         D           C           D
     And all the way back home I cried.
              D           C           D
          And all the way back home I cried.

       D                       C
I will fight for the love of a lady, indeed.
            D                       C
     I will fight for the honour of thine.
      D                   C
But I will not harm a new love in full bloom.
           D       C           D
     If it was not meant to be mine;
                D         C           D
          If it never was meant to be mine.











                        VERY MANY PEOPLE
                              - by Rudyard Kipling and Leslie Fish
                              - (c)1987 by Off Centaur Publications, BMI

Am                   G             Am      C                     G
On the downs, in the weald, on the marshes, I heard the Old Gods say:
Am         G         Am     C        Em  Am
"Here come very many people. We must go away.

      Am       G         Am            Em               Am
"They take our land to delight in, but their delight destroys.
      C        G             Am               Em                  Am
"They flay the turf from the sheep-walk, they load the downs with noise.

Am         G           Am             C                      G
"They burn coal in the woodland. They seize the oast and the mill.
      Am      G       Am              C        Em           Am
"They camp beside our dew-ponds. They mar the clean-flanked hill.

      Am       G         Am        Em                    Am
"They string a clamorous magic to fence their souls from thought,
Am        C             G        Am               Em                  Am
"'Til our deep-breathed oaks are silent, and our muttering downs tell naught.


"They comfort themselves with neighbors, they cannot abide alone.

"It shall be best for their doings When We Old Gods are gone."


Farewell to the downs and the marshes, and the weald and the forest known,

before there were very many people, before the Old Gods had gone!






















                    SONG OF THE RED WAR BOAT
                              - by Rudyard Kipling and Leslie Fish
                              - (c)1987 by Off Centaur Publications, BMI

Am                 G           Am       C          G            Am
Shove off from the wharf edge! Steady! Watch for a smooth! Give way!
       Am        G       Am          C            G           Am
If she feels the lop already, she'll stand on her head in the bay.
     D          G           Am            D                    Am
It's ebb - It's dusk - It's blowing - The shoals are a mile of white,
   D              G           Am       C        G        Am
But (snatch her along!) we're going to find our master tonight.


       D            G      Am        D         G        Am
But we hold that in all disaster of shipwreck, storm or sword,
  D                    Am          C           G           Am
A Man must stad by his Master when once he has pledged his word.


Raging seas we rode in, but we seldom saw them bust.

Our master is angry with Odin - and Odin is angry with us!

Heavy odds have we taken, but never before such odds.

The Gods know they are forsaken. We're risking the wrath of the Gods!


Over the crest she flies from, into the hollow she drops,

Cringes and clears her eyes from the wind torn breaker-tops,

Out on a shrieking shoulder of a mile-high surge she drives.

Meet her! Meet her and hold her! Pull for your scoundrel lives!


The thunders bellow and clamour the harm that they mean to do!

There goes Thor's own Hammer, cracking the dark in two!

Close! But the blow has missed her, Here comes the wind of the blow!

Row or the squall will twist her broadside into it! Row! Row!










               SONG OF THE RED WAR BOAT (cont)


Heark ye, Thor of the Thunders! We are not here for a jest -

For wager, or warfare or plunder, or to put your power to the test.

This work is none of our wishing - we'd house at home if we might -

But our master is wrecked out fishing. And we go to find him tonight.


For we hold that in all disaster, as the Gods themselves have said,

A Man must stand by his Master, 'til one or the other is dead


Now that's our way of thinking, now you can do as ye will,

While we try to save her from sinking and hold her head to it still.

Bail her and keep her moving, or she'll break her back in the trough....

Who said the weather's improving, or the swells are taking off?


Sodden, chafed and aching, gone in the loins and the knee -

No matter - the day is breaking, and there's far less weight to the seas!

Up mast and finish bailing - in oars, and out with the mead -

The rest will be two reef sailing... That was a night indeed!


But we hold that in all disaster (And faith, we have found it true!)

That if only you stand by your Master, then the Gods will stand by you!

















                 WELCOME TO THE CURRENT MIDDLE AGES
                              - unknown to me at this time
                              - August 19, 1989

G                   D              Em
Passing through the mountains on a summer day
       Am                        D
     I saw a sight, and stopped along the way.
G         D                Em
A group of people standing in a field
         Am                                  D
     and in among them I could swear I saw a shield.

  G                     D              Em
I stopped and talked to someone in the strangest clothes
        Am                            D
     he wore a cloak, and tights that he called hose.
    G    D                 Em
and in a jumble his words came to me
      Am                                D
     about a group that he called the Society.


     |     Oh, Welcome, to the Current Middle Ages.
     |               Em                 C                  D
     |         We're glad you came, and hope that you will stay.
     |         G                 C             G      Em
     |    Come share with us the joys of gentle dalliance,
     |             C               D             G
     |         within a Dream that has not gone away.


I met a person dressed in armor that went clink.

     I was amazed, he made it link by link

He showed me that he wore a chain and belt

     He was a Knight he said, I asked him how it felt.


I met another person in a satin dress.

     She said her name... I missed it I confess.

I swear that every word that woman said

     sounded like history, it echoed in my head.




                   * more *


             WELCOME TO THE CURRENT MIDDLE AGES (cont)


I watched two people fight a battle armed with swords,

     I met a Bard, he sang and played some chords.

Then someone shouted in a voice quite loud,

     "Make way for the King," and everybody bowed.


After that my memories became a blur

     I'd read it all; of that fact I was sure.

And when I left that place I cannot say,

     but I'll return, and when I do, I know I'll stay.



     |     Oh, Welcome, to the Current Middle Ages.
     |               Em                 C                  D
     |         We're glad you came, and hope that you will stay.
     |         G                 C             G      Em
     |    Come share with us the joys of gentle dalliance,
     |             C               D             G
     |         within a Dream that has not gone away.



     |     Oh, Welcome, to the Current Middle Ages.
     |               Em                 C                  D
     |         We're glad you came, and hope that you will stay.
     |         G                 C             G      Em
     |    Come share with us the joys of gentle dalliance,
     |             C               D             G
     |         within a Dream that has not gone away.
















                          THE PALACE
                              - by Rudyard Kipling and Leslie Fish
                              - (c)1987 by Off Centaur Publications, BMI


A            G          A          G       D         E
When I was a King and a Mason - a Master proven and skilled -
A            G            A      D                     E
I cleared me ground for a Palace such as a King should build.
A                 G          A       D                    E - E7
I decreed and dug down to my levels. Presently, under the silt,
  A            G         A      G           D        A  -  G  -  E
I came on the wreck of a Palace - such as a King had built.


A             G            A         G           D          E
There was no worth in the fashion - There was no wit in the plan -
A           G          A           D               E
Hither and thither and aimless the ruined footings ran -
A       G            A             D              E - E7
Masonry brute and mishandled, but carven on every stone:
A          G       A        G           D         A  -  G  -  A
"After me cometh a builder. Tell him, I too have known."


A           G         A                  G            D           E
Swift to my use in my trenches, where my well-planned groundworks grew,
  A           G              A        D                   E
I tumbled his quoins and his ashlars, cut and reset them anew.
A             G          A         D                           E - E7
Lime I milled out of his marbles; burned it and slacked it and spread,
A           G         A            G            D      A  -  G  -  A
Taking and leaving at pleasure the gifts of the humble dead.


A        G             A            G          D              E
Yet I dispised not nor gloried; for yet, as we wrenched them apart,
  A           G         A           D                       E
I read in the razed foundations the heart of that builder's heart.
   A         G         A        D              E - E7
As if he had risen and pleaded, so did I undestand
    A           G            A               G           D            A - G - E
The form of the dream he had followed in the face of the thing he had planned.

                         * more *










                         THE PALACE (cont)


     A       G          A             G    D          E
When I was a King and A Mason, in the open noon of my pride
     A         G             A               D                       E
They send me a Word from the Darkness - They whispered and called me aside.
     A          G         A             D                     E - E7
They said, "The end is forbidden." They said, "Thy use is fullfilled.
    A            G             A              G         D              A - G - A
Thy Palace shall stand as that other's - the spoil of a King who shall build."


     A            G           A             G            D             E
I recalled all my men from my trenches, my quarries, my wharves and my sheers.
A         G          A                D                     E
All I had wrought I abandoned to the faith of the faithless years -
      A        G     A           D                 E - E7
But I cut into every timber, and carved into every stone:
A         G        A        G           D        A - G - A    A - G - E
"After me cometh a builder. Tell him, I too have known."


































                       LORD OF THE DANCE
                              - Words: Anonymous, Music: Traditional


Am                                   G
When she danced on the water and the wind was her horn
    Am               G              E7
The Lady laughed and everything was born.
    Am                           Dm
And when she lit the Sun and the light gave him birth
    Am                      G
The Lord of the Dance first appeared on the Earth.




     | Am                G            Am
     | Dance, Dance, wherever you may be,
     |                      D           E
     | I am the Lord of the Dance, said He
     |   Am      G            Dm      E
     | I live in you, if you live in me,
     |       Am                  G           Am
     | And I lead you all in the dance, said he.



I dance in the Circle when the flames leap up high;
I dance in the fire, and never, ever die.
I dance in the waves of the bright summer sea,
For I am the Lord of the waves mystery.





I sleep in the kernal and I dance in the rain.
I dance in the wind and through the waving grain,
amd when you cut me down I care not for the pain,
In the Spring I'm the Lord of the Dance once again.





I dance at the Sabbat when you dance out the spell,
I dance and sing that everyone be well,
And when the dancing's over do not think that I am gone,
To live is to dance, so I dance on and on.





                  * more *
               LORD OF THE DANCE (cont)


The horn of the Lady cast it's sound 'cross the plain,
The birds took the notes and gave them back again,
Till the sound of Her music was a song in the sky,
And to that song, there can be one reply.





The Moon in her phases and the tides of the sea,
The movement of the Earth and the seasons that will be,
Are rhythm for the dancing and a promise through the years
That the Dance goes on through our joy and tears.





They danced in the darkness and they dances in the night,
They danced on the Earth and everything was light.
They danced out the darkness and they danced in the dawn
And the day of that dancing still goes on.





I gaze on the heavens and I gaze on the Earth,
and I feel the pain of dying and rebirth,
And I lift my head in gladness and in praise for the day
Of the Dance of the Lord and the Lady gay.




               * end *








NOTES:

(This song has existed as a Christian hymn, sung to "Simple Gifts," for
many years. The current version was apparently created a verse at a time
by many people, and has no definite authors. The current music, an Ap-
palachian shape note hymn, was introduced by Jenny Peckham-Vanzant and
immediately became the preferred tune.)

             Mamas, Don't let your babies grow up to be Vikings
                              - Words by Morric Haast
                                   (c) 1984 by William Ritchie
                                ( sung to the obvious tune )

C                                                F
Vikings are easy to find, but they're hard to survive;
   G                                                  C
   They'd rather tear out your throat that leave you alive.
C
Long, greasy pigtails, and dirty old tunics,
       F
   and some town is burning today;
G
After they've robbed you and raped your poor wife,
                              c
   They'll prob'ly just sail away.


<Chorus>  * Second set of chords after the second verse *
     C(D)                                       F(G)
     Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be Vikings,
              G(A)
        Don't let 'em sail longships and crack people's heads,
                                             C(D)
           Let 'em be farmers or shepherds instead.
     C(D)                                      F(G)
     Mamas, don't let you babies grow up to be Vikings,
                      G(A)
        Cause they'll rape and they'll pillage, from village to village,
                                      C(D)
           Even when they're still at home.





Vikings like smokey old mead halls, and burned Christian bodies;

   Fiords in the morning, and trollops who put up a fight;

Them that don't know 'em, won't live long, and them that do

   Sometimes don't know who they're after;

They're mean and they're vicious, though noone knows why,

   And they're sneaky but not too damn bright.

(Chorus in the new key)


Author'e Note:
(If you think the second verse is awkward, listen to the original!)

                       ACKNOWLEDEMENTS
                              *

     I wish to thank, and acknowledge the following sources and
     people for helping me to learn to play the songs contained
     herein. Without the unknowing help, the well recorded tape,
     I would not be able to play any where near the number of
     SCA songs I can now play.


          THE PEOPLE WHO ARE TO BLAME FOR MY PLAYING:
     ------------------------------------------------------

     * To Baldwin of Erabor, who, though totally unknowing, and
       without having to be there, taught me the first SCA
       songs I ever learned to play.

     * To Baroness Mistress Atalaya la Sanadora, OL, OP, et al,
       HER MOST GLORIUS REDUNDENCY, AND MOST MERCIFUL SELF, who
       shared her music library with me one day, and asked me
       to learn some of the songs so I could TEACH THEM TO HER!

     * To Moricc Haast, who, by writing and performing the song,
       "Troubadore's Challenge," inspired me to compete and attain
       the honor of The Troubadore Laureate Trimaris, and from that
       one act, came this.

     * I wish to thank all the other authors, musicians, poets,
       minstrels, and especially the audiences, whose names I do
       not know. Your efforts, and the way people love your songs
       are the reason for this collection. That, and as those who
       know me will testify, I HAD to write it down just so I could
       learn how to play it! <grin>

                         * I thank you all.
                                              Janos Throngcleaver
                                        mka: Jonathan E. Hawes Jr.


















 .        .       .     .           .     .        .     .        .         .
  |>   .     .|>     .       .   |>   *     .  |>   .       .           .
 _|__  ___. __|_  .      (      _| ____ . ____ |_       .         *          .
<II_I__I_I__I_II>              <II_I  I___I  I_II>                  .
 \\-\--|-|--/-//   *     .  .   \\_\_\__|__/_/_//     .     <T_TT_TT_TT_T> .
  | -      __ |         .        |  _ _   -  _ | .      .    |    _     |
  |     _   __| ___ ___.___ ___ _| _  -   _    |      .      |    [_] - |.
  |  - [_] -| I_I I_I I_I I_I I_I|   _   [_] - |^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^| __     |     .
  |       _ |                _   | _           |_  -     _    -| _      |  .
  | __   [_]|     /^^^/^\   [_]  |     -  _    |     -     -   |      - |   ___
--|     -   |   _/___/_ |     _  |     _       |  --   _       |  -     |--/
  |       __|   \      \|  -     |    [_]      |  _         -  |  __  - |
  |         |    \      \    -   |    _   -    | -     --    - |       _|
 .| ..,i..,.| ,./---------\.\,,..|/.. ..i,,.. \|...i,..,...,.i.|.,,i,..,|
 ---- THE SHIRE SCRIBE BBS - a forum for Medieval Ideas and Actions -----
           ***** 407-633-1026  8:PM-8:AM  300/1200/2400 *****
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

     *  ARE YOU TIRED OF WAITING DAYS, AND SOMETIMES WEEKS FOR THE
        KING'S RUNNERS TO BRING YOU THE LATEST NEWS?

     *  HAVE YOUR LOCAL CRIERS BEEN ACCUSED OF EDITING DISSENT TO
        PLEASE THE CROWN?

     IF THESE OR SIMILAR PROBLEMS PLAGUE YOU, COME TO THE SHIRE
     SCRIBE BBS, IN THE SHIRE OF STARHAVEN, KINGDOM OF TRIMARIS.

     We keep listening posts on all major networks! We report all
     news of the Known World, and provide access for your ideas
     and opinions to be posted as well.

     We are available 12 hours a day, provided the Scribe is not sick,
     or the gentles from the Florida Plunder & Loot guild have not
     decided to mess with things.

                              Disclaimer:

     The Shire Scribe BBS is a privately owned and operated Electronic
     Information Service, and is expressly for the enjoyment of the
     members of the Society for Creative Anachronism. This is not an
     official representative of the SCA, Inc., and does not deliniate
     official SCA policies.

     ******************************************************************
                          __ ____ ____ __
                 THE      <||_|  |_|  |_||>
   <-T-T-T-> SHIRE SCRIBE  \\ \  \|/  / //  8:PM-8:AM    <-T-T-T->
    |-  _ |  *   BBS   *    |-   _  - _ |  407-633-1026   | -  _|
    | -  |^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-| - [_]_    |-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^|_ - |
    |   _|_      -  _    __ |   -     - |-  -   -  _ -   - |  _ |
 .,.|.,..___ - _  _  -  -   | -  _  _   |_   _  _-   _ -___|- _ |
            ---- _____      |  _     - -| _    _____----
                      ---__\.\|/,...,\.,|/__---