Sweeting Carolyne

Because when you hear that your king was singing the original from the back of a truck after fighting the Pennsic woods battle, you just have to answer that call in period.


 

When icumen in,

I cannot starte to ken

But then I ken strong it groweth

Merie the spring,

after springe cometh sumer

who wolde ken thou shoulde come to me?

Hand toucheth hand

reacheth out,

toucheth I, toucheth thou

Sweeting Carolyne (fa la la!)

Gode times neuer seem’d so gode. (so gode, so gode, so gode!)

I hath been inclined (fa la la!)

to believe they neuer wolde

Look, there is the night.

It seemeth not so lonely,

With twa we fill

we hath filled it with but two.

And when I hurte,

Hurt runneth from mine shoulder,

whilst I hold my lemman, I am not sore

Warmth, toucheth warmth,

reacheth out,

toucheth I, toucheth thou

Sweeting Carolyne (fa la la!)

Gode times neuer seem’d so gode. (so gode, so gode, so gode!)

I hath been inclined (fa la la!)

to believe they neuer wolde

Sweeting Carolyne (fa la la!)

Gode times neuer seem’d so gode. (so gode, so gode, so gode!)

I hath been inclined (fa la la!)

to believe they neuer wolde

& etc….

(And the original) 
Where it began,
I can’t begin to knowin’
But then I know it’s growing strong
Was in the spring
And spring became the summer
Who’d have believed you’d come along.
Hands, touchin’ hands
Reachin’ out, touchin’ me, touchin’ you
Sweet Caroline
Good times never seemed so good
I’ve been inclined
To believe they never would
But now I…
…look at the night
And it don’t seem so lonely
We fill it up with only two.
And when I hurt,
Hurtin’ runs off my shoulders
How can I hurt when holding you?
Warm, touchin’ warm
Reachin’ out, touchin’ me, touchin’ you
Sweet Caroline
Good times never seemed so good
I’ve been inclined,
To believe they never would
Oh, no, no
Sweet Caroline
Good times never seemed so good
Sweet Caroline,
I believe they never could
Sweet Caroline
Good times never seemed so good
Sweet Caroline…

Now Springes the Spray – a Kilf Challenge

So Andrew Blackwood, a friend and bard in the Midrealm, issued a challenge for the recent Midrealm Bardic Madness event based on an idea brought up on the drive back from Known World Cooks and Bards in Northshield last September.

It was to create a contra-contrafact in which one uses period lyrics and sets them to music, rather than the regular contrafact in which one writes new lyrics and sets them to an existing period (or not) song. Since that’s also called “filk”, Andrew called this challenge “off a kilf”, as it’s the opposite of the contrafact. Here is the challenge write-up: http://apapermuse.wordpress.com/off-a-klif-bardic-madness-south-2014/ where you can also hear the other artists’ version of this song.

The lyric chosen was a song called “Now Springtes the Spray” written by an anonymous poet in the 1300’s. The words were posted in both the period English and in modern English. The entrants each went to Andrew and performed away from the other entrants; he recorded the pieces. This was so people would not be influenced by the other performers. The result is pretty amazing – diverse and cool!

I’d planned to write my own version, record it, and send it out to him before Bardic Madness but it just didn’t happen. However, I decided to create one today and so this morning, after a study of the text and some thinking, I wrote a piece for voice and harp. Medieval music loved the fifth and so this is set very simply using only, really, four notes. I used the older words but didn’t hold to the earlier pronunciation.

Now Springes the Spray –  Anon. c.1300

Als I me rode this endre day
O’ my pleyinge
Seih I whar a litel may
Began to singe
“The clot him clinge!
Way as him I’ love-longinge
Shall libben ay!”

Now springes the spray
All for love I am so seek
That slepen I ne may

Son I herde that mirye note
Thider I drogh I fonde hire
In an herber swot
Under a bogh
With joye enough
Son I asked, “Thou mirue may
Why singes tou ay?”

Now springes the spray
All for love I am so seek
That slepen I ne may

Than answerde that maiden swote
Midde wordes fewe
“My lemman me haves bihot
Of love trewe
He changes anewe
Yiif I may, it shall him rewe
By this day!”

Now springes the spray
All for love I am so seek
That slepen I ne may

Three Early Songs for the Fort Knox Demo

Our Barony has a demo annually at a gorgeous civil war era fort in Maine on the Penobscot River. There’s always a music portion on the schedule. I missed the morning portion but these are the pieces I did in the afternoon portion of the event.

Here are two of them, warts and all, live recorded from my anachronistic cell phone from within my basket.

Maiden in the Moor Lay is a 14th century English piece written by the ever-popular Anon.

http://www.mbouchard.com/misc/Maiden-in-the-Moor-Lay.anon14thC.mp3

Robin m’aime, written by Adam de Halle somewhere in the mid 1250s, was the third I performed. I read the text in English before singing it in (I am sure woeful) early French. I adore this song.

Robin-m’aime.AdamDeHalle.c1250.mp3

Murie it is is a 13th century English piece, also by Anon. I recorded this one in another part of the fort because there was a lot of noise on the original and I had a rather rambling harp thing I decided was ok for a one-shot but I didn’t particularly want immortalized. I also decided to play with this a little vocally with embellishments and such and liked how it went. I have wanted to learn this piece for a long time but I finally properly learned it at Known World Cooks and Bards when I took a wonderful class on early accompaniment styles.

Murie-it-is.anon13thC.mp3

 

I feel that the simplicity and elegance of these pieces can be appreciated by modern audiences and I try to perform them in a way that keeps them accessible, but still simple. I’ve grown to really love them and am glad I can do each on relatively short notice.

– a

Three Blind Mice – then and now

We’re all pretty familiar with Three Blind Mice, or at least we think we are. We sing this little ditty in elementary school and it’s largely a play song for children.

Three blind mice.
Three blind mice.
See how they run.
See how they run.
They all ran after the farmer’s wife,
Who cut off their tails with a carving knife,
Did you ever see such a sight in your life,
As three blind mice?

But the original version is far stranger…

Three Blinde Mice,
Three Blinde Mice,
Dame Iulian,
Dame Iulian,
the Miller and his merry olde Wife,
she scrapte her tripe licke thou the knife.

Believed to have been written (not merely collected) by Thomas Ravenscroft, it was published in his 1609 Deuteromelia or The Seconde part of Musicks melodie.

TRIPE SCRAPING! KNIFE LICKING! This stuff is MADNESS!

From http://www.pbm.com/~lindahl/ravenscroft/modern/


I’ve done quick recordings to illustrate the sound difference. First, here is the modern one:

Three Blind Mice – Modern Version

And here is the Ravenscroft version (which I’ve come to like better! It must be the tripe scraping. Must be.)

Three Blind Mice – 1609 Ravenscroft Version

 

The Book of Jibril

Fragments from The Book of Jabril

1-In the early days, Viscount Sir Edward took into his household Earl Sir Horic, who took unto his house Sir Steffan vin Dresden, who took into his keeping he who would become the Prophet and baron, Jibril al Dakhil. 2-Now at the time it was not known that he would enter into the circle of darkness, and become revered for his wisdom and prophecy. 3-In the view of the people he was but a man, though many would live to see him become a warrior and a Prophet, about whom tales would be told into the twilight of time.

* * *

1-The Prophet had, for a time, left the fields of battle in order that he should meditate upon his place in the world. 2-When he had returned to the war-fields he did take unto them like a storm atop a mountain, like a dervish in the marketplace. 3-When the night star rose, the Prophet spoke, saying, “I am hurt in places where mine own hands cannot reach, and am so sore my own bones do ache and wail, and I am filled with love.”

* * *

From the Vinland Gospels

17-During the season when the leaves had grown, in Vinland, there was a time wherein fierce men would descend from the hills to raid the settled people. 18-The ruffians would come with bow in hand to poach the land and the raiders would frighten and subdue the people with spears and great noise. 19-It so happened that when the appointed time came, the Prophet walked among these people and gave them courage. Where women struggled to upraise their dwellings, Jibril and his companions would lend them aid, and he became well-loved among the people for his generosity and strength. 20-Many times, and in many places did the Prophet do these deeds, and not that only, but more still. 21-When his work was done, the Prophet would lie upon his back upon the ground, where with much groaning and agony he would suffer for the people, taking into his own body all the ills of the land. 22-And the crowd were all amazed, and wondered among themselves: Who is this man who bears great pains for us, without grimace upon his dark and handsome visage, even as he lay upon the earth?

* * *

From the Vinland Gospels

1-The same day, the Prophet did walk among the throng and watched their ways. 2-And when the night had fallen, he sat beside the well and again watched the people long into the darkness. 3-Meanwhile, his followers were gathered about the fire and wondered at his station. 4-After a time, Jibril did at last approach the fire, and he gathered close to him all those whom he held dear, saying, “I shall give you words of wisdom.” And his acolytes did await his words as the plowed earth awaits the grain: What wisdom do you bring to us, o Prophet? they asked. 5-He blessed them by saying, “Hear my words and hearken unto them.  Though the very night hath fallen and darkness has set its feet unto the ground, thou maist not go unto the streets if thou art uncomely and monstrous. Thou must be seemly, or thou shall not be called mine own.” 6-And his followers did then smooth their hair together, as without thought, and considered well his wisdom.

* * *

A fragment from the Pembridge Gospel
The Book of Jibril, Chapter 6 verses 12 through 16

12-And in those days tales arose of a great beast upon the land, a beast so terrible that it would inflict madness on those it battled, twist their minds, and contort their bodies before consuming their souls.  And the Prophet heard this and told his companions “I shall do battle with this beast, so that others may be spared its torments, verily I shall consume it whole”. 13- And so Jibril went out into the land to find the beast, days and weeks he searched, until at last in a small pine forest near the ocean, he came upon villagers who said the beast was near. The Prophet asked “Where is its lair?” The villagers were mute with fear, but a herald went forth into the forest and returned with a small bottle.  The Prophet asked “What is this?” To which the Herald did reply “This my lord is the vessel in which liveth the beast, not unlike the demons of the sand, the djinn” 14-The Prophet took the vessel, and uncorked it saying the words “I will not see thee hurt yet another, I demand you come forth, verily release the Kracken!”  15-And the Beast did come forth, and the Prophet did battle it. And in a mighty flash, the prophet did open his mouth wide and devoured the Kracken whole, and his companions and the villagers were sore afraid.  And the battle inside the Prophet was waged late into the night, his mouth was filled with strange utterances, and his body would shake and tremble, as if he were not completely in control of it.  Towards dawn the Prophet did win the battle and opening his mouth wide again, did return the body of the beast to the Earth.  16-In the morning the Prophet was overtired from his battle, but was of sound mind and whole body, and his companions and the villagers were amazed at it all.

* * *
From the Vinland Gospels

1-One evening the Prophet reclined before the fire with his companions, weary from a long day of work and battle. “What is a man if he cannot rest?” asked Jibril, once the evening meal had been eaten. And the company celebrated their rest with a two-handled cup passed from one to the other. 2-Now among the gathered people was a man who was also a warrior, and who had battled with the Prophet during the day. This man kept his hair long, tied back with a thong, and he wore upon his cheeks great growths of hair in the custom of a foreign people of ancient times. During the night, this man was joking and caught the eye of the Prophet, upon whose bare head the moon itself shone.

3-After some time, the Prophet addressed the man, and gestured to the chair in which the main reclined. “You have but to hold onto that chair in which you now recline,” he spoke, “and I shall hold fast to the very hair upon your head, and truly, should this come to pass, for one fortnight you shall not bare the gaze of your own reflection, even if it be obscured by the sun.” 4-The foreigner considered the words of the Prophet, and asked him if by completing this act, it would atone for the ancient crimes of his people.

* * *
From the Vinland Gospels

16-When the sun had long set, and the work of the day had been completed, Jibril was sitting before the fire with his brethren when the King of the land came and sat among them. 17-All these were persevering with one mind in conversation with the King, when the Prophet noticed that missing among them was a woman, the Queen of the land, whom he had sworn to protect. 18-Rising up in the midst of them, the Prophet addressed the King by his formal title, asking, “Where, o dukii, is the veiled Lady of your house, the Queen? The people are sorely saddened by her absence.” The King responded, “She is reclined in a well-appointed tent nearby, where she lay deep within a dream-like stupor. She has been thus for much time.”  19-The multitude was filled with sadness to hear that the Queen was thusly arranged and became silent. 20-“I shall go up unto the Queen,” spoke the Prophet, “and shall lay my cloak and hands upon her, and in doing so, shall wake her from her stupor.” 21- And they were all astonished, and wondered, saying one to another: What meaneth this?

22- The Prophet began to chant unto himself a tuneless prayer and left the fire alone to travel up the mountain to the tent of the Queen. The gathered multitude looked toward the King, who spoke to them saying, “I do not fear for my Queen, for I have seen it with my eyes: she hath wrestled horses to the earth.” 23- And the people did not fear for her any longer, though they listened carefully for the sounds of the Prophet from the mountain.

* * *
From the Vinland Gospels

20-At the time, there was in the land a tribal poetess who had come at the behest of the King, whose subject she was. She was seated by the fire with the King’s company, and also in the company of the Prophet. 21-At the behest of the King or his companions she would sing in rhyme, or speak as a foreigner, which incited laughter among them. 22-The King had asked the woman to retell a tale he heard earlier at the fire, a tale about a beast of the field, but said this time with the husky voice of a wanton, though sadly this did not improve the tale in the eyes of the King.

23-At this, the Prophet, who had been deep in his meditation, staring at the reflection of the moon in his cup, took note of the woman as she sat near the flames, mesmerized by her voice. The Prophet then knelt in the sand before the fire as all became silent, and began to speak with guttural sounds as one possessed by demons. 24-The woman had ceased her singing, and Jibril did approach her on his hands and knees, as the beast of burden in the tale, and lay his head upon her lap. 25-The singer then made to comfort the Prophet who reclaimed his senses and, walking upright as a man once more, returned to his chair. 25-When the morning came, the King and his company remembered the happening, but the Prophet himself had no recollection of it, so deep in his meditation had be been.

* * *

14-Another day, the Prophet went out of the house, and on a journey with the Queen of his land, a woman of much strength and beauty, whom he had pledged to serve. 15-While they traveled he remained alert to all things which might come to pass, and after a time, began to tell parables about the dangers which travelers could face. 16-The Queen became sore with fear, and she did shudder and quake. But Jibril did say unto her that she should have no fear, and spoke to her these words, “I shall impale myself on any trouble that does come our way, and I shall do so even twice.” 17-And the Queen felt blessed and comforted by his presence.

* * *

1-And upon the land came a great wash of heat, such that no man or woman could find comfort. The multitudes did beg: Why hath the Lord done thus to this land? what meaneth this exceeding great heat? 2-The Prophet too was burning, driven by the beams of the sun and sore wounded by the heat thereof. 3-As all around waited in agony for the falling of evening, Jibril did prophesy unto the host, saying to comfort them, “This day I have placed at my side a small basket of well-thatched rushes, into which I shall catch mine own blackness as it melts from me, and when the evening star hath risen, I shall again pour it upon me.” 4-It was in this way that the Prophet did melt himself for the salvation of the people.

* * *
An apocryphal story of the Prophet Jibril

The prophet was a superior man, one of great strength and holiness. He was also one who had a spirit of generosity which had no equal. He looked down unto the peoples surrounding the stalls of the market, and food stands,  and said unto himself, “it is a shame, for truth, that all are not so endowed as I am with bodily perfection.” and “I must find a way to give to the people that which I have achieved.”

And thus did he vow to go unto the barber and the apothecary to have his body cut with a knife, that a serum could be made to allow all men to achieve his perfection. With great caution and courage did the holy one have removed from himself a piece of his very gut.

The barber had placed the blessed part into a golden bowl while he sewed the Prophet with silver threads, when in came the men from the temple, who had been loitering by the food stands in the marketplace as the holy one passed by them. They wanted this magic serum! They wished to be anointed that they too could achieve the perfection of the Prophet Jibril!

Thus, while the Prophet lay sleeping deeply, was there a great fight arising with the men of medicine and hair cutting and the rabble from the street. When the scuffle was done the rabble had absconded with the muscle from the chest of holy Jibril. The Prophet woke to the men of science lamenting greatly that his part had been stolen and defiled but Jibril told them to wait, for he knew that his will would be done in some way.

The rabble took the muscle into the temple and gave it to the priests. They then brought gold and precious jewels to make a case for it. Soon it was placed into an armored chest sculpted to perfection to resemble the torso of the holy Jibril himself, shining with gold. Twin ruby cabochons glittered upon the hammered pectorals, and his navel was an onyx from the ring of the most beautiful temple virgin.

The chest, so none would steal it, was made very heavy, such that it took a man his whole body to embrace the torso and lift it. The priests who moved the heavy chest each day soon began to notice that the prophets blessings were upon them! Lo! As they did lift their long garments, it could be seen that their own chests began to resemble that of the Perfect One himself.

It was said that if the chest of the prophet was lifted by any man every day for 100 days, he could attain the perfection as well.

And so it seemed to be true.

Every day men would line up at the temple and each would put his arms around the great golden chest which contained the relic of Jibril. And after 100 days of this ritual the men who attended the temple daily did notice that their own chests did resemble the chest of the Prophet!

Blessings be upon them! And thus it was that the next miracle of the holy Jibril did come to pass.

_________________________________________________

The Book of Jibril was written as a gift to honor Baron Jibril al-Dakhil for his devotion and humor during the first reign of Queen Kiena with her King Gregor. She hand wrote in calligraphy all of the text, save that which is listed as apocryphal. It was written by myself with additions by Baron Angus Pembridge (noted in the Pembridge Gospels). It is a living document in that new stories will surely be added.