Category: Original Songs

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In Hadrian’s Town

For the dear people of Hadchester – my friends and companions – this is yours.

Click here to listen to an mp3 of the song:
http://www.mbouchard.com/misc/Hadrians-Town.mp3

See Hadrian’s town down by the sea
Hi lily hey lily hi lo.
If you are a- looking for fine company
To the Hadchester coast you should go.

If by longship you land, or by three-masted sail,
You shall find a reception as warm as the sun.
Cold as the winter, they’ll serve you their ale,
And find you your comfort as tall tales are spun

See Hadrian’s town down by the sea
Hi lily hey lily hi lo.
If you are a- looking for fine company
To the Hadchester coast you should go.

While the morning fog clears you can see her great worth
As the folk of Hadchester before you appear.
Wide gardens a-plenty grown from the rich earth,
Providence favoring hard work and cheer.

See Hadrian’s town down by the sea
Hi lily hey lily hi lo.
If you are a- looking for fine company
To the Hadchester coast you should go.

Beneath Harold’s orchard they play in the wood
Neighbors and friends gather from far and near
When y’ think you have had all the pleasure you could
Sit down by the fire and rest yourself here.

See Hadrian’s town down by the sea
Hi lily hey lily hi lo.
If you are a- looking for fine company
To the Hadchester coast you should go.

The Romans and Tudors together do dance,
Vikings and Templars share platters of bread
Picts spar with Frenchmen when they have a chance,
As to all good people the good-will is spread,

See Hadrian’s town down by the sea
Hi lily hey lily hi lo.
If you are a- looking for fine company
To the Hadchester coast you should go.

There’s nary a noble with a greater home –
Of mountains that gather the first rays of day,
Her people as lovely as the ocean’s salt foam
If you land at Hadchester, you will want to stay…

In Hadrian’s town down by the sea
Hi lily hey lily hi lo.
If you are a- looking for fine company
To the Hadchester coast you should go.

If you are a- looking for fine company
To the Hadchester coast you should go.

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A couple of years ago I was asked to make a song in celebration of the people of the Shire of Hadchester, which is on a beautiful coastal section of Maine. But it’s not nearly as lovely as the people who live and play there!

The song sat, quietly, with just the text for some time, as I’d not recorded it so it could be taught. But someone recently asked about it, so I made a recording to use to hear how it goes – and so – Hadchester, my beloved friends, this song is for you – long overdue!

love, Aneleda

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Last Saw You In June

Thinking of Armistice Day and Veteran’s Day got me thinking to songs about loving and missing people. And this song came and told me that she was thinking the same thing. So she wrote herself by my hand. It was recorded at the kitchen table straight onto the laptop, which is exactly where I’d imagine myself singing this song if I had to. It’s my thank you to all those who wait for someone serving…that’s worthy of great respect too.

http://mbouchard.com/misc/Last-Saw-You-In-June.mp3

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All the golden leaves are gone, stark stand the trees
The busy hum of summer’s gone, the flowers and the bees
there’s smoke from every chimney, though it seems much too soon
It’s November now, and I last saw you in June.

You held the lines and laughed, “it won’t be long.”
“You will pass the time with friends and the singing of your songs,
and I promise I’ll be back before the final harvest moon”
But it’s November now and I last saw you in June.

The sea is sometimes kind and sometimes cruel
She will always hold your heart first, I’m no fool.
I can share your love with her I guess, but not your body with Neptune.
It’s November now, and I last saw you in June.

(Bridge)
I cannot walk the sea and wring my hands.
I have our boy to raise, and I must care for our lands,
And I don’t have time to waste away like old heroines who swoon.
But it’s November now, and I last saw you in June.

So we wait and work and wait and pass the time
And I’ve put away your painting of the damned Marinere’s rime
For sometimes this love’s an albatross, upon the sea my hopes are strewn
For it’s November now, and I last saw you in June.

Footfalls on the gravel make me fear,
I look out the frosty window – God, you’re here!
The tears they start to fall again – I had though I  was immune.
For it’s November now, and I last saw you in June…

For it’s November now, and I last saw you
It’ November now, and I last saw you
It’s November now, and I last saw you
in June.

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Ballad of the UnBeheading

There was a bard in London town
who in her jest ticked off the Crown
o’re the square they hung her upside down
from atop the Tow’r of London.

A priest was called to give the rites;
they held him ore’ her by his tights
There he became afraid of heights
There on the Tow’r o’ London.

The priest was hauled back up the wall
But could ever hear the singing call
That echoed off each stoney wall
Within the Tow’r o’ London.

To be a bard is rather hard
varitas et cantus
to bear the weight of truth and song
can get a girl in trouble-o.

Soon came the carrion birds so black
They sat upon her hanging back
And planned to have a little snack
Utop the Tow’r o’ London.

One crow said, “Brothers, here’s a treat!
Our friend—the bard is made of meat.
Her words offend, but she tastes sweet,
here atop the Tow’r of London.”

They left her chords alone, the crows,
Picking bits off of her toes
And so the Bard’s high voice it rose
From atop the Tow’r of London.”

To be a bard is rather hard
varitas et cantus
to bear the weight of truth and song
can get a girl in trouble-o.

The bard could not her jesting cease
“Look at how they flock like geese
“to watch me go to final peace
“Atop the Tow’r o’ London.”

The birds they dined upon her eyes
they were not troubled by her sighs
The crowds below could watch her die
from atop the Tow’r o’ London.

The Bard made rhymes while crows did peck
a bob-and-wheel ‘bout bleeding neck.
“I could complain, but what the heck!
I’m atop the Tow’r o’ London.”

To be a bard is rather hard
varitas et cantus
to bear the weight of truth and song
can get a girl in trouble-o.

…“All you folk out in the crowd
“Think you not that I am proud?
“To make my best and final bow’d
Atop the Tow’r o’ London.

Ere she become a love-ed clown
the sheriff tried to take her down
but was hit with fruit throughout the town
seen from the Tow’r o’ London.

…They sent the executioner
to take the curly head from her
but alas, he was a saboteur
atop the Tow’r o’ London.

To be a bard is rather hard
varitas et cantus
to bear the weight of truth and song
can get a girl in trouble-o.

The sabateur was stern and hard,
but he took a shine to the curly bard.
(Did I say that sabateur was hard?)
atop the Tow’r o’ London.

The Knight from Thanet, with regret,
was sent to cease the red-haired threat
but with remorse was he was beset
atop the Tow’r o’ London.

A count was sent, with a sharpened knife
to end her song, and take her life.
Instead her took her, like a wife.
atop the Tow’r o’ London.

To be a bard is rather hard
varitas et cantus
to bear the weight of truth and song
can get a girl in trouble-o.

no sounds now issued from her throat
but her soul was not yet in charon’s boat
though her body tossed down to the moat
from atop the Tow’r o’ London.

The bard could swim well – like a fish
she’s fled the moat with a great swish
and the count and she both got their wish
soaked ‘neath the Tow’r o’ London.

The bard, the count, they’re on their way
and rumoring is here to stay
The crows are now acting the play
Atop the Tow’r o’ London.

To be a bard is rather hard
varitas et cantus
to bear the weight of truth and song
can get a girl in trouble-o.

But a bard’s voice carries far and wide
While she searched for a place to hide
Her jest still echoed clear inside,
In walls and Tow’r o’ London.

At last the noisy bard was found
They killed her dead upon the ground,
but even dead she made a sound!
echo’d the Tow’r o’ London.

Lucan’s muse, though gone away,
Her bardic tales they still do play,
the legends trace is here to stay
Haunting the Tow’r o’ London.

To be a bard is rather hard
varitas et cantus
to bear the weight of truth and song
can get a girl in trouble-o.

(I’ll add the list of who contributed….)

 

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(The post that inspired this, ahem, brilliant idea is this:

Plotting for Pennsic makes me think that I would have rocked at court intrigue. Except that I’m mostly transparent, and a lousy poker player. Ok, nevermind, I would totally have been beheaded or locked in the Tower of London. (Upside, there’d now be a singing ghost! What a tourist attraction!)

Ohhhhhh there was a bard in London town

who in her jest ticked off the Crown

o’re the square they hung her upside down

from atop the Tow’r of London.

 

The crows they sat upon her feet

they flew her stolen bits of meat

they thought her croaking quite a treat

from atop the Tow’r of London.

CHORUS

To be a bard is rather hard

varitas et cantus

to bear the weight of truth and song

can get a girl in trouble-o.

NOW – YOU ALL WRITE THE REST OF THE VERSES. I will SING IT AT PENNSIC, on WAR TUESDAY NIGHT in the STREET on ByTheWay in front of  THANET HOUSE at N15 at 7:00 SHARP.  Feel free to share the glory. Or torture. =)  (Some of the verses may be edited a little for scansion and order. =D I swear the spirit will remain the same, and any bards harmed in the making of this song will remain so!!)

A

 

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Dance the War Away

Dance the War Away (formerly “Together in the Fray”)
This song is featured on the CD “I Am of the North” available for purchase online at:  http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/aneledafalconbridge/

I had a dream while sleeping low
As vivid as the day
You were fighting by my side
Bedecked with colors gay

Arm by arm, no one could harm us
Running in the fray
A merry singing in my ears
As we danced the war away

You leapt, you ran, you smiled, you sang
I Felt my bravery swell
Standing with you at my side
As swords about us fell

The beating of the battle drum
Called it’s rough tattoo
The rhythm of my coeur du guerre
Matched every beat with you

Arm by arm, no one could harm us
Running in the fray
A merry singing in my ears
As we danced the war away

The sky was blue, cloudless, bright
Our golden armor shone
Such Joie du combat in the air
As I had never known

The field was grassy flat and green
The banners rippling waves
We heard lay on the cannon roar
And a mighty fight we gave

Arm by arm, no one could harm us
Running in the fray
A merry singing in my ears
As we danced the war away

Surrounded by our friends we were
On fields bordered with hay
We helped raise up the noble dead
And together walked way.
I had a dream while sleeping low
As vivid as the day
So real I thought I lived it once
Perhaps some day I may

Arm by arm, no one could harm us
Running in the fray
A merry singing in my ears
As we danced the war away

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Reynardine’s Lady

This song was started some years ago, and forgotten, until I found a fragment of it on paper tonight and at last finished the tale I began. It still has no tune, but it will come. I’d consider this an early draft, despite the length in years it has taken to write it. There’s a shade of “The Cardinal Ordained” here as well, this predates even that piece.

 

Your father is gone, lost to the night

But of noble blood, it is true, I was born

and I go to defend our home and our land

and avenge my beloved, before God now sworn.

 

Deep from the box she lifted the thing

rough cloth fell way from its glaring shine.

This was my father’s own sword, she said softly,

our great treasure still, young Renardyne.

 

I have saved it in here for many a year

For iron so cold was your father’s one bane

It was all that I brought from my other life,

To men from that life it shall cause bitter pain.

 

She had followed my father by star and by moon

Over the great green hill

They had loved well all their days,

And if not for those curs, Love would have still.

 

Reynardyne, son, they will hunt you forever,

So go to the green castle deep in the wood.

For all of my days, I swear to protect you

I have kept them all from us as long as I could.

 

Now you take your sisters, you wrap them tight;

answer no sound at the the door – not a one

burn ye no fire, nor candle for light

Until I or the time of this fighting is done.

 

If I do not return within two days time,

all three of ye go to the great church to pray.

And while you are safe within its stony walls,

light a candle for each of the men I shall slay.

 

She had followed my father by star and by moon

Over the great green hill

They had loved well all their days,

And if not for those curs, Love would have still.

 

She strapped that great weapon upon her back

Over my father’s clothes she had put on

She tied back her hair and kissed us each fiercely,

as she swept into the wood as swiftly as dawn.

 

We hid for two days then fled to the church.

A monk knew my father and so took us in.

Dozens of candles were lit for her soul

to atone for the murders, though they claimed it no sin.

 

On the fourth day at Vespers she came through the song

Bloodied and weak, she fell through the door.

All of the herbs and the candles and Aves

could not bring back the man who she lived for.

 

She had followed my father by star and by moon

Over the great green hill

They had loved well all their days,

And if not for those curs, Love would have still.

 

Light me more candles, o friar, she begged,

I slew them like cattle beset with a plague

I did not spare a one when I came upon them.

I hunted them down over valley and craig.

 

Some call him a rake, and some call him sly.

Few know of the ruby-lipped maiden, once queen

who tamed the wise fox with her beauty and love,

my mother, the lady of bold Renardyne.

 

She had followed my father by star and by moon

Over the great green hill

They had loved well all their days,

And if not for those curs, Love would have still.