14 May 00 - 10:06 PM (#228031)
Subject: Medieval Re-enactments Song List
From: John in Brisbane
I can't find the URL again but I stumbled acrooss a site with lots of general folk lyrics, a sample of which are below. The site was devoted to those lusty types who don chain mail and broad swords and it had links to half a dozen or so similar sites. There was a zip file of 1500 lyrics which I sampled at random to locate pieces I hadn't heard of. There were lyrics which had come straight from the DT, but enough others to arouse my curiosity. What I did notice were lots of lyrics where the DT is missing tunes. I gather that lots of these songs get sung in the spare time between fighting, aleing and wenching or whatever else happens at these special events. Anyome come across these sites please? Regards, JohnAlmost Every Circumstance
by Colm Stance
Silly Sisters (No More to the Dance)
Seven days are in the week in almost every circumstance
And there's four seasons in the year or so we learned in school
Ah but never count your chickens when you're dealing with the women
For many's the wise man fell asleep to waken up the fool
The first time I met my love was on a monday morning
And the second time I saw her was on a tuesday afternoon
When she kissed me on a wednesday I couldn't wait for thursday
But I can tell you now my boys that thursday never came
Seven days are in the week in almost every circumstance
And there's four seasons in the year or so we learned in school
Ah but never count your chickens when you're dealing with the women
For many's the wise man fell asleep to waken up the fool
My love she took the wintertime and turned it into springtime
I never thought that love could change the world so much before
I gave my heart and in return she promised me the summertime
But I can tell you now my boys that summer never came
Seven days are in the week in almost every circumstance
And there's four seasons in the year or so we learned in school
Ah but never count your chickens when you're dealing with the women
For many's the wise man fell asleep to waken up the fool
Who Are Those Crazy People?
By: Robin of Gilwell
On weekends, when we all go out to play
There's always someone laughing at our clothes.
"Oh, look! They're wearing tunics, lace, and hose!
Who are those crazy people, anyway?"
That's what the people always seem to say,
"My God! That fellow's carrying a sword!"
"They call themselves 'milady' and 'milord!"
"Who are those crazy people, anyway?"
But when my eyes meet theirs, it always seems
As if their soul is withering away.
They live a life that has no gallant dreams,
No noble deeds to brighten up their day;
And a silent voice from deep within me screams,
"Who are those crazy people, anyway?"
The Unfortunate Troubador
'Twas the coldest darkest hour of night
Black trees on either hand
The troubador stole to beneath his loved one's
Window and took his stand
The moonlight shone on the silvery strings
Of his battered old guitar
And his song arose on the night air
And was carried clear and far
Refrain:
Tra-la-la, tra-la-la
Tra-la-la, la, la-la-la
la, la-la-la-la
Tra-la-la, tra-la-la
Tra-la-la, la, la-la-la
Oh, come my love to thy window
That I may see thy face
The goddess Aphrodite hath not thy fairy grace
And if thou grantest not my prayer
Then even the stars shall weep
But the window remained an empty pane
For the maiden was fast asleep
Refrain
The Willow Tree
O take me in your arms, love
For keen doth the wind blow
O take me in your arms, love
For bitter is my deep woe.
She hears me not, she heeds me not
Nor will she listen to me
While here I lie alone
To die beneath the willow tree.
My love hath wealth and beauty
Rich suitors attend her door
My love hath wealth and beauty
She slights me because I am poor.
The ribbon fair that bound her hair
Is all that is left to me
While here I lie alone
To die beneath the willow tree.
I once had gold and silver
I thought them without end
I once had gold and silver
I thought I had a true friend.
My wealth is lost, my friend is false
My love hath he stolen from me
While here I lie alone
To die beneath the willow tree.
Wombat Song
Tune: Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire
By Mary Christmasse (Joice Brisboise)
And House Grynmoors
Wombats roasting on a bardic fire
Chimpmunks singing all the while
Hampsters flee as the Wombats they see
Cause flaming fur just ain't their style
Everybody knows
Wombats shake their head and gnash their teeth
Gnashing makes them feel all right
But once you gnash you'll be part of the stash
of Wombats roasting here tonight
The wombats came from far away
And in An Tir they said they would stay
But as you know, they've got to go
So they're roasting now and next they'll be pate.
Wombat stew you know is very good
Nibble on their little heads and feet
Wombats beware for I'll singe all your hair
There's nothin quite as good as wombat meat.
The End of the Road
Ev'ry road thro' life is a long, long road,
Fill'd with joys and sorrows too,
As you journey on how your heart will yearn
For the things most dear to you.
With wealth and love 'tis so,
But onward we must go.
Chorus:
Keep right on to the end of the road,
Keep right on to the end,
Tho' the way be long, let your heart be strong,
Keep right on round the bend.
Tho' you're tired and weary still journey on,
Till you come to your happy abode,
Where all the love you've been dreaming of
Will be there at the end of the road.
Chorus:
ith a big stout heart to a long steep hill,
We may get there with a smile,
With a good kind thought and an end in view,
We may cut short many a mile.
So let courage ev'ry day
Be your guiding star alway.
Chorus:
Black Widows in the Privy
Lyrics and Music by Heather Jones
From the tape Horse Tamer's Daughter
Centaur Publications
PO Box 424
El Cerrito, CA 94530
Everyone knows someone we'd be better off without,
But best not mention names, for we know not who's about.
But why commit a murder, and risk the fires of hell,
When black widows in the privy can do it just as well.
Now, poison's good, and daggers, and arrows in the back,
And if you're really desprate, you can try a front attack.
But are they really worthy of the risk of being caught
When black widows in the privy need not be bribed or bought?
So, if there's one of whom wish most simply to be rid,
Just wait 'til dark, then point the way to where the widows hid,
And say to them, "I think you'll find that this one is the best,"
And black widows in the privy will gladly do the rest.
Turkish Song Of The Damned
I come old friend from hell tonight
Across the rotting sea
Nor the nails of the Cross
Nor the blood of Christ
Can bring you help this eve
The dead have come to
Claim a debt from thee
They stand outside your door
Four score and three
Did you keep a watch for a dead man's wind
Did you see the woman with the comb in her hand
Wailing away on the wall on the strand
As you danced to the Turkish song of the damned
You remember when the ship went down
You left me on the deck
The captain's corpse jumped up
And threw his arms around my neck
For all these years I've had him on my back
This debt cannot be paid with all your jack
And as I sit and talk to you I see your face go white
This shadow hanging over me
Is no trick of the light
The spectre on my back will soon be free
The dead have come to claim
A debt from thee
Burn That Village Down, Boys
Tune: "Boil That Cabbage Down, Boys"
Lyrics: Luandir, Wizard and Minstrel
Chorus:
Burn that village down, boys! Burn that Saxon village down!
The only song I ever did sing was burn that village down!
Burn that village down, boys! Burn it down to the ground!
The only song I ever did sing was burn that village down!
Ve happy, horny Vikings; ve like to find hot times!
The vay ve spend our shore leave, some folk ban call a crime!
Chorus;
Ve make off mit your maidens; your fertile fields ve scorch.
Ve drink your mead-hall dry, then put it to der torch!
Chorus;
A long, hard day of plunder, and a man deserves a feast.
Ve drive your herds into your barns, and then ve cook Roast Beaste!
Chorus;
This time ve gonna get it right! This time ve gonna learn!
First you rape? Then you pillage? Then you get to burn!
Chorus;
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