Death Holds a Rapier – Ode to Jean du Montagne

“This song is one about my dear friend and merry minstrel partner-in-crime, Jean.”

http://www.mbouchard.com/misc/death-holds-a-rapier.mp3

If you are a rogue, a cad, a knave
I do not envy you
who would malign his captain
or insult his lady true
For I see your doom approaching
if that is who you are
in on hand death holds a rapier
in the other a guitar

If you are a rogue, a cad, a knave
then wary should you be
for there is a man among us
who fights with grand esprit
Honor does become him
know when you say “au rivoir”
in one hand death holds a rapier
in the other a guitar

If you are a rogue, a cad, a knave
who he has come to slay
you may hear a distant singing
that quickly comes your way
it is to give you warning
final thoughts for your memoir
in one hand death holds a rapier
in the other a guitar

If you are a rogue, a cad, a knave
polite while cavalier
if you honor king and lady then
you have nothing to fear
you may earn a throbbing headache
if you challenge him to spar
in one hand death holds a pint mug
in the other a guitar

you may earn a throbbing headache
if you challenge him to spar
for you’ll fill many a pint glass
as he plays on his guitar

Jean gets his OGRE
Jean gets his OGRE, and this song is for him on that day!

Every Man May Be A King, A SCAdian Lullaby

“I wrote this song for my son when he was very, very little.  It would be, however, that he hated being sung to sleep, so I’ve never actually sang it to him as intended, save once when he was too sick to protest.”

This song is featured on the CD “I Am of the North” available for purchase online at: http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/aneledafalconbridge

close your eyes my little boy
dream of running, dream of joy
and listen to the truth I sing
Every man may be a King
Every man may be a King

the pauper lad in tattered cloak
the vintner boy who corks the the oak
the tavern lass who stirs the broth
and merchant’s son who cuts the cloth

if their duties they each mind
then a Knight may choose to bind
to his service their working hands
be they yet too small for lands

so
close your eyes my little boy
dream of running, dream of joy
and listen to the truth I sing
Every man may be a King
Every man may be a King

taking up the gallant sword
holding close the heavy board
roads to tourneys long they roam
defending honor of their home

final battle, one to one
of the two the victor comes
to rule the land in peaceful war
as did the kings and queens of yore

so
close your eyes my little boy
dream of running, dream of joy
and listen to the truth I sing
Every man may be a King
Every man may be a King

though now you at your mother cling
someday you may be a King.

The Twelve Days of Pennsic

The Twelve Days of Pennsic , an almost very nearly true story in the vein of The Taming of the Shrew, a duet by Aneleda Falkonbridge & Riordan Morgan.  (And this was before I even knew that I was a delicate flower of the northern army!)

*  *  *  *  *

On the first day of Pennsic, my Riordan gave to me:  An olive wood rosary!

On the second day of Pennsic, Aneleda gave to me:  two short replies
and an olive wood rosary

On the third day of Pennsic, my Riordan gave to me:  three yards of trim
two short replies
and an olive wood rosary

On the fouth day of Pennsic, Aneleda gave to me:  four scathing remarks
three yards of trim
two short replies
and an olive wood rosary

On the fifth day of Pennsic, my Riordan gave to me:  five pewter cups!
four scathing remarks
three yards of trim
two short replies
and an olive wood rosary

On the sixth day of Pennsic, Aneleda gave to me:  six dirty looks
five pewter cups!
four scathing remarks
three yards of trim
two short replies
and an olive wood rosary

On the seventh day of Pennsic, my Riordan gave to me:  seven sparkling stones
six dirty looks
five pewter cups!
four scathing remarks
three yards of trim
two short replies
and an olive wood rosary

On the eighth day of Pennsic, Aneleda gave to me:  eight small bruises
seven sparkling stones
six dirty looks
five pewter cups!
four scathing remarks
three yards of trim
two short replies
and an olive wood rosary

On the ninth day of Pennsic, my Riordan gave to me:  nine pilgrim tokens
eight small bruises
seven sparkling stones
six dirty looks
five pewter cups!
four scathing remarks
three yards of trim
two short replies
and an olive wood rosary

On the tenth day of Pennsic, Aneleda gave to me: ten shin kicks
nine pilgrim tokens
eight small bruises
seven sparkling stones
six dirty looks
five pewter cups!
four scathing remarks
three yards of trim
two short replies
and an olive wood rosary

On the eleventh day of Pennsic, my Riordan gave to me:  eleven leather roses
ten shin kicks
nine pilgrim tokens
eight small bruises
seven sparkling stones
six dirty looks
five pewter cups!
four scathing remarks
three yards of trim
two short replies
and an olive wood rosary

On the twelth day of Pennsic, Aneleda gave to me:  twelve sturdy blows
eleven leather roses
ten shin kicks
nine pilgrim tokens
eight small bruises
seven sparkling stones
six dirty looks
five pewter cups!
four scathing remarks
three yards of trim
two short replies
and an olive wood rosary

The Endwearde March – The Fighters of the Center of the Realm

Fighters of the Center of the Realm was written to be a marching song for the fighting forces of Endewearde. It speaks of all our lovely seasons, and marching in them.  We are also the geographic center of the East Kingdom.

http://www.mbouchard.com/misc/Endewearde-March.mp3

Though the winter winds blow high, blow low
Through the stinging bitterness of snow
Endewearde march, to fight we go
The Center of the realm shows no fear-o.

When rain pelts down blow high blow, blow low
Sinking the muck our carts we tow
Endewearde march, to fight we go
The Center of the realm shows no fear-o.

As the hot winds come, blow high, blow low
Over thick’ned fields we sternly mow
Endewearde march, to fight we go
The Center of the realm shows no fear-o.

While the leaves have left, blow high, blow low
Steadily advance to meet our foe
Endewearde march, to fight we go
The Center of the realm shows no fear-o.

** Endewearde march can be replaced with Onward we march for general singing use.

Bright the Eyes Behind the War-Helm

A song for Astrid, who is beloved of us.

http://www.mbouchard.com/misc/Bright-the-Eyes-Behind-the-War-Helm.mp3

There are people in the North-land
who stand strong amid the strife
There among them lives a woman
She, a legend come to life.

Bright the eyes behind her war helm
White the arm that holds the sword
Blood-red hair waves as a banner
Sharpest lightning are her words.

Comes the wish girl
comes the chooser
comes the ones at Odin’s call
with a raven on her shoulder
See the idis leave her hall.

Fair mead-bringer is this lady
holding horn in long-hall warm
she will soon leave for the battle,
Joyful cry o’erwhelms the storm.

Few are places in the Midgard
which could claim such as their own
Valkyrie of Malagentia,
youngest Norn has Eastern home.

Comes the wish girl
comes the chooser
comes the ones at Odin’s call
with a raven on her shoulder
See the idis leave her hall.

Hark ye warriors for the thunder
of her war horse, battle thrall,
Ulfkillsdottir and her raven
come to take you as you fall.

Comes the wish girl
comes the chooser
comes the ones at Odin’s call
with a raven on her shoulder
See the idis leave her hall.

With a raven on her shoulder
Ulfkillsdottir leaves her hall.

********

Words and tune by Aneleda with skillful edits and suggestions by Jean.