Opening Songs: The Tale of the Unheralded Herald All for the Birds Beer, Beer, Beer Quiet Songs



Download 99.86 Kb.
Date conversion18.04.2017
Size99.86 Kb.
Bawdy Campfire Ballads

A guide for beginners
-OR-
How to find like-minded people at a campfire…or be asked to leave.
By
Lord Gyric of Otershaghe

Barony of Rising Waters

Kingdom of Ealdormere
lordgyric@yahoo.ca
Contents:

Opening Songs:
The Tale of the Unheralded Herald

All for the Birds

Beer, Beer, Beer

Quiet Songs:

Log Driver’s Waltz

The Worm Song
Loud Songs:

The Celt Came Back

Young Ned of the Hill

Glenwhorple (The “G” Song)

The Apprentices Lament

The Old Black Rum

The Night That Paddy Murphy Died
Bawdy and Raucous Songs:
Do Virgin’s taste better?

Dragon’s Retort

The Sleeping Scotsman

Seven Drunken Nights

The REAL Old Time Religion

Closing Songs:

The Parting Glass

Loch Lomond

The Tale of the Unheralded Herald

Justin Eiler




Seems once there was a Herald

He’d stood too long in the sun.

He went to an SCA event

To have a little fun

Said Herald brought a guitar

With which he sang this rant

“Who says that Heralds cannot pun?

But they can only Cant!”


He found a quiet corner

Near a Bardic Circle’s beat.

He stood up in his great big boots

(And that was no small feat)

He played and sang most pun-ishly

And did so night and day

And yet with all his singing,

He did not shout “Oyez!”

His lyrics – they were lousy

His tune – well it was worse

His language was most vile and foul

And moreso every verse!

He kept up with his singing

Until the King’s Guard came

They told him “You must come with us

This in the Queen’s own name.”

They brought the punning Herald

To the Queen’s pavilion nigh

He bowed unto Her Majesty

And saw wrath in Her eye.

She said, “You do offend me

With the verses that you sing.

Go ye, and pun nevermore

Or from a yardarm swing.”


The sweating Herald left her

And his heart was beating fast.

He was wont to make more jokes

But his next, it was his Last!

The Guard said, “If you want to live

No more of the songs you sang.”

The he said, “No noose is good news….”

And smiling he was hanged!




All for the Birds

Traditional


Sing along Bawdy Songs & Backroom Ballads, 1962

Sent to me by Baroness Finn of Stowe in the Road, Kingdom of Lochac


There once was a Robin who lived in the West

He discovered a very strange egg in his nest

He turned to his wife with an angry remark

She said “Don’t get ruffled, I did it just for a lark”
Chorus:
Toorala, Tooralay.

A rolling stone gathers no moss, so they say

Sing along, learn the words,

It’s a wonderful song, but it’s all for the birds!

A sparrow and vulture once met in the air

Soon they were coupling, a love hungry pair

The passionate vulture emitted some bleats

The sparrow inquired, “Am I hurting you sweets?”

(Chorus)

How to kiss a duck’s bum without tasting the down

This answer has come from the men of renown

Endless experiments have those them the trick

First you blow, then you kiss but you’ve got to be quick

(Chorus)

There was once a parrot with strings on his feet

If you pulled on the right string he’d recite Della Bleat

If you pulled on the left string he’d act out a farce

If you pulled on them both he’d fall flat on his…beak

(Chorus)

So here’s to the birds, let us sing loud their praise

Their Plumage, their habits, their natural ways

We’re grateful for birds flying up in the sky

Just think of the fall out if Horses could fly!!!

(Chorus)

Beer, Beer, Beer

Ontario Renaissance Festival Pub Sing


Beer, Beer, Beer, Tidily Beer, Beer, Beer, Beer...


A long time ago, way back in history
When all there was to drink was nothing but cups of tea
A long came a man by the name of Charlie Mops
And he invented a wonderful drink and he made it out of hops.
Chorus
Oh, he might have been an admiral, a sultan or a King
And to his praises we will always sing,
Look what he has done for us; he's filled our lives with cheer
The Lord bless Charlie Mops the man who invented beer.

Beer, Beer, Beer, Tidily Beer, Beer, Beer, Beer...

A barrel of malt a bushel of hops you stir it around with a stick


The kind of lubrication that make your engine tick
Forty pints of wallop a day will keep away the cracks
It's only two and fifty a pint, and a hell of a lot of tax!

(Chorus)


The White Heart, The Dragon Inn, the Royal Oak as well
One thing you can be sure of it's Charlie's beer they sell
Come on all ye lucky lads at eleven o'clock she stops
Five short seconds to remember Charlie Mops
One... Two... Three... Four... Five...

(Chorus)


Oh, he might have been an admiral, a sultan or a King
And to his praises we will always sing,
Look what he has done for us; he's filled our lives with cheer
The Lord bless Charlie Mops the man who invented beer.
Beer, Beer, Beer, Tidily Beer, Beer, Beer, Beer...

If you have a local pub, or similar thing be it Pennsic or wherever, feel free to substitute the names of the bars. The ones named here were the three pubs at the ORF

Log Driver’s Waltz

Traditional Canadian Song Copyright Wade Hemsworth

Recorded by Kate and Anna McGarrigle for animated Version, National Film Board of Canada

If you ask any girl from the parish around

What pleases her most from her head to her toes,

She'll say - I'm not sure that it's business of yours,

But I do like to waltz with a log driver.


Chorus:
For he goes burling down a-down the white water;

That's where the log driver learns to step lightly.

Its burling down, a-down white water;

A log driver's waltz pleases girls completely.


When the drive's nearly over, I like to go down

To see all the lads while they work on the river.

I know that come evening they'll be in the town

And we all want to waltz with a log driver.


To please both my parents I've had to give way

And dance with the doctors and merchants and lawyers.

Their manners are fine but their feet are of clay

For there's none with the style of a log driver.


I've had my chances with all sorts of men

But none is so fine as my lad on the river.

So when the drive's over, if he asks me again,

I think I will marry my log driver.





I included this as an inside joke…this was a song from my formative years.

The Worm Song (High among the Heather)

By Taliesin, to the tune of The Blacksmith

Baroness Finn, Stowe on the Road, Kingdom of Lochac

A worm he met a lark, high among the heather

The lark said to the worm, “Let us talk together.”

And she sang so sweet and clear, with her voice so tender

And the lark she killed the worm, high among the heather.

The lark she met a hawk, of the shiny feather

The hawk said to the lark, “Let us fly together.”

And they flew so high on the wind, as they soared in splendor

And the hawk he killed the lark, high above the heather.

The hawk he met a fox, and he looked so clever

The fox said to the hawk, let us dine together

So the hawk flew down to the ground, as a bird should never

And the fox he killed the hawk, high among the heather.


The fox he met a man, with fine boots of leather

The man said to the fox, “Let us run together”

“You have fine fur.” Said the man, “Warm in cold weather.”

And he killed the fox as they ran, high among the heather.


The man he told a Thief of his trick so clever

“That is fine fur,” Said the Thief, “And fine boots of leather.”

And he killed the man, with his knife, there among the heather

And the worm said to the man, “Let us lie together”


And the worm said to the man, “Let us lie together”

The Celt came Back

Anonymous

Tune: The Cat came Back



Now one old King had troubles of his own,

He had a thick-skinned Bard that wouldn’t leave his home

He tried and he tried to send that Bard away

He sold him to a Dane going far, far away…
(Chorus)
But the Celt came back, the very next day

The Celt came back; they thought he was a goner

But the Celt came back, he just wouldn’t stay away!

The local Baron said that he would shoot that Celt on sight

So he loaded up his cannon with powder to the sight

He waited and he waited for that Bard to come around,

Itty-bitty pieces of the castle’s all they found…

He gave him to a Visigoth going out East

Saying “Sell him to the Mongols; feed him to a Beast!”

They got up to the channel, and they thought they’d get across

Tomorrow they’ll write off the ‘Goth as bein’ a total loss…

He gave him to a serf with a ten-shilling note

Take him out on the lake, take him on a boat!

They tied a rock around his neck; it must have weighed 10 stone

And now they drag the shoreline, ‘cause the boat came back alone…

The sent him to the Borgia’s to have a little feast

Kill him off with poisoned wine, use cyanide at least

He drank several barrels of the poisoned wine that day

And now the Borgias have all…passed away….


He gave him to a Knight, to use him for a pell

Saying “Beat him smartly, I wanna hear him yell!”

The knight armored up, and sharpened up his sword

No one’s ever hear again of that Knightly lord…


*They gave him to a Pelican, to work him to the bone

Make him wash the dishes, never to come home

She chained him to the kitchen sink, stacked him up real mean

The Pelican was ne’er seen again, but at least…the kitchen’s clean…


*He gave him to a Laurel, apprentice for to be

Teach him silent arts like Norse Calligraphy

Teaching him to read & write, she made her last mistake

Printing up his music was more than they could take….




The verses marked with an asterisk are verses I made up while I was typing this. Although the may be merely adequate, I did this to show you how easy it is to make up your own verses to songs like these. Include people you know, make it personal…it makes the song more enjoyable when you lampoon friends…IE:
They gave him to Og, to drink the Celt dead

Og took the challenge, put his helm upon his head

He matched him drink for drink, the match went on for days

The king knew his error when the bartender asked, “Who pays?”…




Young Ned of the Hill


Written by Ron Kavana and Terry Woods

Have you ever walked the lonesome hills


And heard the curlews cry
Or seen the raven black as night

Upon a windswept sky

To walk the purple heather
And hear the west wind cry
To know that's where the rapparee must die

Since Cromwell pushed us westward


To live our lowly lives
There's some of us have deemed to fight
From Tipperary mountains high
Noble men with wills of iron
Who are not afraid to die
Who'll fight with Gaelic honour held on high

Chorus



A curse upon you Oliver Cromwell
You who raped our Motherland
I hope you 're rotting down in hell
For the horrors that you sent
To our misfortunate forefathers
Whom you robbed of their birthright
"To hell ye Connaught" may you burn in hell tonight

Of one such man I'd like to speak


A rapparee by name and deed
His family dispossessed and slaughtered
They put a price upon his head
His name is known in song and story
His deeds are legend still
And murdered for blood money
Was young Ned of the hill

You have robbed our homes and fortunes


Even drove us from our land
You tried to break our spirit
But you'll never understand
The love of dear old Ireland
That will forge an iron will
As long as there are gallant men
Like young Ned of the hill

GLENWHORPLE (The 'G' Song) ©

(Source: Songs From Front and Rear; A Collection of Canadian Serviceman's Songs of World



War Two)
There's a braw fine clan o'lads as ilk a man should ken

They are delit at the fichtin', they have clured a sicht o' men

They have suppit muckle whuskey when to kirk they gang be’en

The hielan' men of braw Glenwhorple!


CHORUS: Heught! Glenwhorple, hielan' men,

Great strong whuskey-suckin' hielan' men,

They were hard-workin', hairy-leggit hielan' men,

Slainte mhor, Glenwhorple!

They were founded by McAdam, who of all the men was first

He resided in Glen Eden and he pipit fit tae burst

Wi' a fig-leaf for a sporran and a perfect hielan' thirst

Till he stole away the apple from Glenwhorple!

When the waters o' the deluge drookit all the whole world o'er

The chieftain of the clan y'know his name was Sean McNoah

So a muckle boat he biggit and he sneckit up the door

And he sailed away from drooned Glenwhorple!


Old McNoah sent a piper out to see if there was land

He came back wi' an empty whuskey bottle in each hand

But they could’na understand him, he was fu' ye understand

For he’d found a public house aboon the water!


Well there was a jock named Joshua, a Sapper he by trade

He went awa' to Jericho aboon a muckle raid

And the walls they went a-tumblin', and with loot the lads were paid

For the sapping and the mining in Glenwhorple!


When wise King Solomon was ruler o'er the glen

He had a hundred pipers and a thousand fichtin' men

And ten thousand wives and concubines, for as I'm sure ye ken

He kept a pow'rful household in Glenwhorple!


**There was a birkie bangster; he was the ruler o'er the clan

His name it was T'Wallace and he was a fightin' man

And he went a bout the border and the southron turned and ran

From the dingin' o' the claymore in Glenwhorple!


* Many o' the clansmen went and left their heilan' homes

They loaded up on shipsabout the world to roam.

They were lookin' for a special place to call their very own

That's how Ealdormere became Glenwhorple!

**What a sight this morning wi' the clansmen on parade

Wi' the claymore and the piper and the broad Glenwhorple plaid

And the pipey almost sober and the chieftan na’ afraid

O’ seeing tartan spiders in Glenwhorple!

* Optional new verse by Cordigan D’arnot ** New verses by Hector of the Black Height

NOTE: Repeat chorus twice to end. "Slainte mhor," pronounced "slan-jah / v-oar," means "great

health."

The Apprentice's Lament

Master Hector of the Black Height

I served me a Laurel for many a year,

I carded much wool and I brewed skunky beer

But now there’s my Peer lying dead on the floor

And I never shall be an apprentice no more.


CHORUS:
And it’s no, nay, never (cite me a source!),

No, nay, never, no more shall I be an apprentice,

No never, no more.

 

My Laurel took me to a special event;



My last two years’ projects to judging were sent.

They asked me for documents, I told them nay,

“I’ve not tried to research since my high school days.”

And it’s no, nay, never…


 

I pulled out thick binders with copies to spare;

I showed them my primary source for yak hair.

I answered their questions with footnotes galore,

I boggled their minds and left jaws on the floor.

And it’s no, nay, never…


 

I won the Queen’s praises and took the first prize,

My Laurel said “WHAT?” and dropped dead from surprise.

So now I am free, with no Peer to inspire:

I hate to wash cars so I can’t be a squire

And it’s no, nay, never (cite me a source!),

No, nay, never, no more shall I be an apprentice,

No never, no more.


This is a great song to the tune of The Wild Rover written by Master Hector of the Black Heights.
For those of you who know of him, enough said. For those of you who don’t…well, enjoy anyways.

That Old Black Rum

Traditional, these lyrics as done by Great Big Sea

I drank sixteen doubles for the price of one

Trying to find the courage to talk to one

I asked her for a dance

Not a second glance

My night had just begun

Well I drink to the father and the holy ghost

I'm kneeling at the altar of my nightly post

So I'll raise a glass, not the first nor last

Come join me in this toast

[Chorus:]
Because the old black rum's got a hold on me

Like a dog wrapped round my leg

And the old black rum's got a hold on me

Will I live for another day?

Hey, Will I live for another day?
Well the Queen of George Street just went walking on by

Walking on by with some guy who don't care

That she stood in line

Since half past nine

And spent three hours on her hair (On her hair!)
Well her friend is looking at me with an evil grin

I think the bloody racket might soon begin

I must have said some thing

To the George street queen

The boys are joining in!
[Chorus]
So I drank all of my money

And I slept out in the rain

Everyday is different but the nights they're all the same

You never see the sun on the old black rum

But I know I'm gonna do it again!
[Chorus 2x]



The Night that Paddy Murphy Died

Traditional, these lyrics as done by Great Big Sea

Oh the night that Paddy Murphy died, is a night I'll never forget


Some of the boys got loaded drunk, and they ain't got sober yet;
As long as a bottle was passed around every man was feelin' gay
O'Leary came with the bagpipes, some music for to play

Chorus:
That's how they showed their respect for Paddy Murphy


That's how they showed their honour and their pride;
They said it was a sin and shame and they winked at one another
And every drink in the place was full the night Pat Murphy died

As Mrs. Murphy sat in the corner pouring out her grief

Kelly and his gang came tearing down the street

They went into an empty room and a bottle of whiskey stole
They put the bottle with the corpse to keep that whiskey cold

Chorus


About two o'clock in the morning after empty'ing the jug
Doyle rolls up the ice box lid to see poor Paddy's mug
We stopped the clock so Mrs. Murphy couldn't tell the time
And at a quarter after two we argued it was nine

Chorus


They stopped the hearse on George Street outside Sundance Saloon
They all went in at half past eight and staggered out at noon
They went up to the graveyard, so holy and sublime
Found out when they got there, they'd left the corpse behind!

Chorus


Oh the night that Paddy Murphy died, is a night I'll never forget
Some of the boys got loaded drunk and they ain't been sober yet;
As long as a bottle was passed around every man was feelin' gay
O'Leary came with the bagpipes, some music for to play

Chorus






DO VIRGINS TASTE BETTER?

(Also known as - An Old Cliché Revisited)

-R. Farran

(Tune: "The Irish Washerwoman")


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 but 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 salty, or 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 we'd like to be shed of you, and many have tried.

But no one can get thru your thick scaly hide.

We hope that some day, some brave knight will come by.

'Cause we can't wait around 'til 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 barbecued wench.


CHORUS
Now we've found a solution, it works out so neat,

If you insist on nothing but virgins to eat.

No more will our number ever grow small,

We'll simply make sure there's no virgins at all!


CHORUS

DRAGON'S RETORT


(C) 1985 by Claire Stephens

(Tune: "Irish Washerwoman")


Well, now I am 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 decay and my trim go to pot

Yes, virgins taste better than those who 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 barbecued wench tastes like candy to me

CHORUS
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 out only virgins for lunch.


CHORUS







Seven Nights Drunk
Traditional
When I came home on Monday night, as drunk as drunk could be

I saw a horse outside the door, where my old horse should be

So I called my wife, (audience shouts: HEY WIFE!)

And I said to her, would you kindly tell to me

Who owns that horse outside my door, where my old horse should be?

Oh, you're drunk, you drunk, you silly old fool,

Can't you plainly see?

That's a lovely sow that my mother sent to me

Well it's many a day I've traveled, a hundred miles or more

But a saddle on a sow I've never seen before!


When I came home on Tuesday night......etc.

Saw a coat behind the door......etc.

....Who owns that coat.....

...that's a lovely blanket...

...But buttons on a blanket....etc.
When I came home on Wednesday night.....etc.

I saw a pipe upon the chair, where my old pipe should be..etc.

....Who owns that pipe.....

...That's a lovely tin-whistle that my mother sent to me!

...But tobacco in a tin-whistle I've never seen before!

When I came home on Thursday night......etc.

I saw two boots beneath the bed.......etc.

....Who owns those boots.......etc.

...They're two geranium-pots...etc.

...But laces in geranium-pots....etc.

When I came home on Friday night......etc.

Saw a head upon the bed......etc.

....Who owns that head.........etc.

...That's a baby boy...etc.

...but whiskers on a baby boy...etc.
When I came home on Saturday night....etc.

Saw a rise beneath the sheets.....etc.

....Who owns that rise......

...It's nothing but a shillelagh...etc.

...But knackers on a shillelagh....etc.

(Alternate lyric: "Hammer" "A hammer with a head like that..")


When I came home on Sunday night...etc.

I saw a man walk out the door, a little after three! (shout: A.M.!)

....Who was that man......after three (shout: A.M.!)

...That's an English tax-man....etc.

...But an Englishman that could last till three....etc.
There are other verses. During the Bawdic Circle last year, we discovered enough to get to 9 or 10 days drunk, but for the purposes of the song I’ve only included 7 days.

The Scotsman
Lyrics & Music: Bryan Bowers

Last 2 verses by Seamus O'Kennedy


A Scotsman clad in kilt left a bar one evening fair,

And one could tell by how he walked he'd drunk more than his share.

He fumbled 'round until he could no longer keep his feet

Then he stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street.

Ring ding diddle iddle i dee o, ring di diddle di o

He stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street.

Now around that time two young and lovely girls just happened by

And one said to the other with a twinkle in her eye.

"See yon sleeping Scotsman so strong and handsome built?

I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath their kilt."

Ring ding diddle iddle i dee o, ring di diddle di o

"I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath their kilt."

They crept up on the sleeping Scotsman quiet as could be,

And lifted up his kilt about an inch so they could see.

And there, behold, for them to view beneath his Scottish skirt

T'was nothin' more than God had graced him with upon his birth.

Ring ding diddle iddle i dee o, ring di diddle di o

T’was nothin' more than God had graced him with upon his birth.


They marveled for a moment then one said "We must be gone.

Lets leave a present for our friend before we move along.

"For a gift they left a blue silk ribbon tied into a bow

Around the bonny star the Scot's kilt did lift and show.

Ring ding diddle iddle i dee o, ring di diddle di o

Around the bonny star the Scot's kilt did lift and show.


The Scotsman woke to nature's call and stumbled for the trees.

And behind a bush he lifts his kilt and gawks at what he sees.

And in a startled voice he cries to what's before his eyes

"Ach, lad I don't know where ya' been, but I see ya' won first prize!"

Ring ding diddle iddle i dee o, ring di diddle di o

"Ach, lad I don't know where ya' been, but I see ya' won first prize!"


Our Scottish friend, still clad in kilt continued down the street.

And he hadn't gone a mile before a girl he chanced to meet

She said "I heard what's under there, tell me is it so?"

He said "Just slip your hand up miss if you'd really like to know."

Ring ding diddle iddle i dee o, ring di diddle di o

He said "Just slip your hand up miss if you'd really like to know."

She slipped her hand up under his kilt and much to her surprise

The Scotsman smiled and a very strange look came into his eyes.

She said "Oh, Sir, that's gruesome!" and then she heard him roar

"If you slip your hand up once again you'll find it's grew some more!"

Ring ding diddle iddle i dee o, ring di diddle di o

"If you slip your hand up once again you'll find it grew some mo


I know everyone knows this, or at least they SHOULD. I included it so you would have all the words, including the extra 2 verses not always widely known.
And I like the damn song…sue me.

That REAL Olde Tyme Religion


Ok, I had to put on obnoxious one in. Last year I included stepping-stones for you to start with on Roll your Leg Over… I will put as many fun verses as fit on one page…I’m working on the definitive version. Any verses you have please send them to me.


Chorus:

Gimme that old time religion, Gimme that old time religion,

Gimme that old time religion, it’s good enough for me.
We’ll be met by Aphrodite,

She’ll be out there in her nightie,

She is kind of wild and flighty, but she’s good enough for me!
If your rising sign is Aries,

You’ll be taken by the fairies,

Meet the Buddha in Benares, Where he’ll hit you with a pie.
We will have a mighty orgy,

In the honour of Astarte,

It’ll be one helluva party,

And that’s good enough for me.


Azathoth is in his chaos,

Azathoth is in his chaos,

Now if only he don’t slay us,

then that’s good enough for me!


We will venerate Babastis,

We will venerate Bubastis,

If you want in, then just ask us and you’re good enough for me!
As for those who read of Conan,

As for those who read of Conan,

They’re all followers of Onan,

and that’s good enough for me!


There will be a lot of lovin'

when we’re meeting in our coven,

Quit your pushin’ and your shovin’ so there’s room enough for me!

We will all bow down to Enlil,

we will all bow down to Enlil,

Pass your cup and get a refill,

with bold Gilgamesh the Brave.

We will read from the Kaballa,

We will read from the Kaballa,

It won’t get us to Valhalla,

but it’s good enough for me!


It was good enough for Loki,

It was good enough for Loki,

He thinks Thor’s a little hokey,

but that’s good enough for me.


We will all meet at Nirvana,

We will all meet at Nirvana,

Take a left turn at Urbana,

and you’ll see the promised land.


We will all bow down to Mithras,

we will all bow down to Mithras,

Slay the bull and play the Zithras

on that resurrection day!


We will all sing Hare Krishna,

we will all sing Hare Krishna,

I can’t find that in the Mishna, but it’s good enough for me!


Now you just might be a Pharisee, Now you just might be a Pharisee,

Walk on fire, you get in free, and that’s good enough for me.


There are some who follow Shinto, There are some who follow Shinto,

There’s no telling what we’re into, but it’s good enough for me.


I hear Valkyries a-coming,

In the air their song is coming,

They forgot the words--they’re humming,

yet they’re good enough for me.


There are those who practice Voodoo, There are those who practice Voodoo,

I know I do-- I hope you do-- and are good enough for me!


We will sacrifice to Yuggoth,

We will sacrifice to Yuggoth,

Burn a village to Yug-Sothos,

And the Goat of a Thousand Young!


It’s the opera written for us,

We will all join in the chorus.

It’s the opera about Boris,

Which is Godunov for me!


We will worship the god Loki

Who is the Norse god of chaos

Which is why this verse doesn’t rhyme or scan very well…

But it’s good enough for me!

We will worship like Egyptians

Building tombs to put our stiffs in

In the subways write inscriptions

It’s good enough for me

We will worship Zarathustra

We will worship like we useta

I’m a Zarathustra Booster

It’s good enough for me


We will worship the god Buddha

Among the god’s there’s no one cuta

He comes in bronze and pewta

It’s good enough for me


We will worship like the Druids

Drinking strange, fermented fluids

Running naked through the wo-ods

It’s good enough for me

We will worship like the Quakers

It’s good enough for me


We will go and worship Venus

She’s the cutest but the meanest

Last week she bit my….Elbow

And it’s good enough for me


We will pray to Father Zeus

IN his temple we’ll hang loose

Eating roast beef with au jus

And that’s good enough for me


When you go to worship Odin

You don’t need a tie and coat on

Grab a sword and slap some woad on

And that’s good enough for me


Shall we sing our praise to Thor

Though he leaves the maidens sore?

They always come back for more

So he’s good enough for me


Let us dance with Dionysus

Get drunk on Mead with spices

And women who know what Vice is

They’re good enough for me


All the hunters start convergin’

When Diana she’s emergin’

It’s too bad she’s still a virgin

Yet there’s hope enough for me


Let’s go worship Great Cthulhu

You and me and Mr. Sulu

We’ll run naked like a Zulu

And that’s good enough for me


We went off to worship Venus

By the Gods! You should have seen us

Now the Clinic has to screen us

And that’s good enough for me


We will go and worship Isus

She’s so helpful in a crisis

Hope she hasn’t raised her prices

For she’s good enough for me

Let us all give praise to Hermes

He will keep away the germies

With his staff entwined with wormies

Which is good enough for me

We are the knights of Jedi

In us the Force is Red-i

Grab your sabers, throw confetti

It’s all food enough for me


We will even worship Yoda

Though he’s small as an iota

He fulfills his Jedi quota

Which is good enough for me





The Parting Glass


Of all the money that e'er I spent
I've spent it in good company
and all the harm that e'er I’ve done
Alas it was to none but me.

And all I've done for want of wit


to memory now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all.
If I had money enough to spend
And leisure to sit awhile
There is a fair maid in the town
That sorely has my heart beguiled.

Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips


I own she has my heart enthralled
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all.
Oh, all the comrades that e'er I had
Are sorry for my going away
And all the sweethearts that e'er I kissed
They'd wish me one more day to stay.



But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise and you should not
I'll gently rise and softly call
Good night and joy be with you all.

Loch Lomond


By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes,
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond,
Where me and my true love were ever won't to gae
On the bonnie bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond
Chorus:

O' ye'll take the high road and I'll take the low road,

And I'll be in Scotland afore ye;
But me and my true love will never meet again,
On the bonnie bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond.

T'was there that we parted in yon shady glen,
On the steep steep side o' Ben Lomond,
Where in deep purple hue, the Hieland hills we view,
And the moon coming out in the gloaming.
Chorus
The wee birdies sing, and the wild flowers spring,
And in sunshine the waters are sleeping,
But the broken heart will never know second spring again,
Though the woeful may cease for their greeting
Chorus



I’ve included these two songs for a reason. No matter how fun and raucous a circle might be, it always must end. And somehow, even I can’t seem to find a better way to end a circle than with one or both of these two songs. They hold a special place in my heart and my repertoire due to my time at the Renn Faire.
I hope they will you too.

Credits and Acknowledgements
All my Songs came from one of the following

Ontario Rennaisance Festival Pub Sing

Chris Stankitis
Various Sources randomly looking up titles on the internet
An old copy of The Montegarde Bardic Book I inherited

Compiled by Kataryna Dragonweaver


An awesome book a gentle who I cannot remember her name recommended

Roll Me Over – A collection of bawdy songs


I got a dump of stuff from Pendar Munro and Gideon Lydiard.
I also ravaged the personal collections of works of the Bards of Ealdormere at

www.bards.ca





The database is protected by copyright ©hestories.info 2017
send message

    Main page