AoA – Hew of Albion

The Love Story of Turi MacKinnon and His Marguerite

Turi proposes to Marguerite.
Turi proposing to Marguerite. Photo by Meredith Bailin Hull.

This is a song-gift to Turi MacKinnon and his bride Marguerite, in honor of their love and in celebration of their wedding day. It is a shared gift from me and Sir Cullan Mac Cianain, who asked me to write it, which was splendid because I was going to write one anyway! As both Turi and Marguerite were present the first time I sang for the Unbelts, their story begins there. Turi proposed to her following the Unbelted battle at Pennsic the following summer, and I was happy witness to that moment too. They are people of great joy, and their smiling faces were in my mind as this was composed. I hope it sounds as warm as the Pennsic sunlight, and as happy as these lovely people who have found each other.

The violin part was played by my good friend Sam Hess.

http://mbouchard.com/misc/The-Love-Story-of%20Turi-MacKinnon-and-His-Marguerite.mp3

A fighter marched down with his friends one fine day
to sport on the tourney field green.
A maiden did come to watch the battle play
while they postured and fought to be seen.

He said to his brother standing beside
“Would that there were a lady for me.
Her honor I’d fight for, my sword she would guide
and my love for her I would decree.”

The ladies were standing like flowers arrayed,
She in blue stood apart from the rest.
She said very softly from beneath her shade,
“If one would fight for me, I would love him the best.”

And so it begins there so sweet,
out in the sun and the hay
the tale of life so complete
the love story of Turi MacKinnon and his Marguerite.

Came then a time of the winter’s cold bite
when warm thoughts are oft so far away
but he muse’d much on the lady’s smile bright;
how to her his heart convey.

Then at long last did a message he send
“Sweet lady please grant my desire,
I beg come with me and a fine feast attend,
for you I have come now to greatly admire.”

And so it begins there so sweet,
out in the sun and the hay
the tale of life so complete
the love story of Turi MacKinnon and his Marguerite.

In this fighting lad all delight she did find,
For he was all the things she could dream.
They were rose and thistle together entwined;
their joy like the sunlight did stream.

He marched off the field one victorious day,
to the one who owned his arm and heart,
and there at her feet his whole life he did lay
with a ring he did vow that they never would part.

And so it begins there so sweet,
out in the sun and the hay
the tale of life so complete
the love story of Turi MacKinnon and his Marguerite.

And so it begins there so sweet,
out in the sun and the hay
the tale of life so complete
the love story of Turi MacKinnon and his Marguerite.

 

River-bone Warrior – a Song for Talen

Odin grant me one more battle

that I may die on warriors ground

Guide my soul to meet the Æsir,

You whom sacrifice has bound.

The Idis gave me fearful fortune –

raise battle-light and turn to stone.

Yet I shall cast into the striving

though norns have named me river-bone

My life is yet an uncut thread!

deaf to Mimir’s warning be –

With shield-gnawers I will run

Bed-shame never shall I see!

Hear the black song of this reaver –

The straw-death shall not have me!

Hear above the cold tree breaker

calling down the valkyrie.

I will don my burnished war net

and go to where the blood-swan sings

to meet the day of flame-farewell,

hear battle song in raven’s wings.

bonehouse will not bear my war-gear

so I hear upon the wind,

I raise my glass and join my hallsmen

then raise blood-ember to discind

My life is yet an uncut thread!

deaf to Mimir’s warning be –

With shield-gnawers I will run

Bed-shame never shall I see!

Hear the black song of this reaver –

The straw-death shall not have me!

Hear above the cold tree breaker

calling down the valkyrie.

Hanging god give me no pity

my battle-sweat runs hot within

It need not be a field of honor;

I shall not die as cattle-kin!

Odin grant me one more battle

that I may die on warriors ground

Guide my soul to meet the Æsir,

You whom sacrifice has bound.

My life is yet an uncut thread!

deaf to Mimir’s warning be –

With shield-gnawers I will run

Bed-shame never shall I see!

Hear the black song of this reaver –

The straw-death shall not have me!

Hear above the cold tree breaker

calling down the valkyrie.

__________________________________________________________________________________

This is a song for a warrior who has been told by the norns that if he lifts a sword again, he will turn to stone. They have already named him river-bone (stone.) He knows his body will break if he puts on his armor. But he will not, as any good Norse warrior would not, lay in his bed and wait, but chooses to join his brothers at war anyway, calling on the valkyries to come as he asks Odin for one final battle before the norns sever the threads of  his life if he battles. We don’t know what happens, only what his will is.

I may make this into a story at some point too.

This poem/song is inspired by Talen Wristbiter, whose warrior-spirit raised my muse today – her spear held to my back until I finished it – by writing about how he has been told that  he must stop fighting (and working) for his health, but how he refuses to stop fighting and working because those things give him purpose and meaning, without which life cannot be truly lived. That fierceness of spirit felt brave, and foolish, and admirable, and I was (and remain) in awe of it.

Thank you my war-brother. May your days on the field be many. -aneleda

Tourney Pilgrims

Written for the aspirants in the Armored Combat League trying for a spot in the Battle of the Nations Team USA.

The Pilgrim to the Tourney

The faithful pilgrim packs his pack
And starts upon the road,
Begins the journey with light step,
Though his arms bear a weighty load

Before him lay the journey long
Though legs may tire, his back is strong.
With others he marches in throng
His worth to prove to all.

The pilgrims take it foot by foot
Along the way they work and play.
Behind them are so many paths
Yet from here not a one will stray.

The way is often fierce and hard
They have been beaten, have been scarred
Yet unbruised honor well they guard
Their worth to prove to all.

Your eyes rest on the lofty goal
The keep is close, within your reach
With dented armor, polished arms
The close’d door each man must breach.

Brother now with brother pray
The pilgrim’s cloak now put away
With brutal chivalry display
Your worth to prove to all.

For all the brutal pilgrims taking this road today, I offer this (somewhat hastily composted) encouragement as you journey to the list. Stay safe, ferocious pilgrims. – aneleda

þis feste is ine myn stomak – part the first

A story about how everyone just wants to go to the party.

Ian: "I doubt you could find the appropriate documentation for this song. And though the lyrics are simple and alliterative, I do not believe this could pass as a 14th Century Chanson." Monique: "Is that a....challenge?" Ian: "If you could translate this into middle English and put it to period music..."  Monique: "Accepted."
Ian: “I doubt you could find the appropriate documentation for this song. And though the lyrics are simple and alliterative, I do not believe this could pass as a 14th Century Chanson.”
Monique: “Is that a….challenge?”
Ian: “If you could translate this into middle English and put it to period music…”
Monique: “Accepted.”


________________________________________

Al hayl myn frende. Dinen gan.

What now, alle. Dinen gan

Whi nat ete?

Heren Osbert, whi nat ete?

Mmm!

I eate, y fayth!

Gode, gode!

I eate, y fayth!

Gode, gode!

 

Henne! What how!

In myn stomak!

Feste, feste. O! in myn stomak.

 

Chese! What how!

In myne stomak!

Feste, feste. O! in myn stomak.

 

Jus! What how!

In myn stomak!

What how!

 

þis feste is ine myne stomak.

So gode, so gode.

Now, þis feste is ine myne stomak.

So gode, so gode, gode.

Al hayl! þis feste is ine myne stomak.

So gode, so gode.

Now, þis feste is ine myne stomak.

So gode, so gode, gode.

 

Good, good.

Welylawey!

Cryestow?

We wod mak feste in thyn stomak,

thilke feste in thyn stomak

Mores wolde festen in myn stomak?

Yis!

O! Grene benes wolde festen in myn stomak?

Yis!

 

A ye! Wenden doun!

Mores! Al hayl!

In myn stomak!

Feste, feste.

O! Ine myn stomak.

Grene benes! Al hayl!

Ine myn stomak!

Feste, feste.

O! Ine myn stomak.

 

þis feste is ine myn stomak.

So gode, so gode.

Now, þis feste is ine myn stomak.

So gode, so gode, gode.

 

Now, þis feste is ine myn stomak.

So gode, so gode.

So, þis feste is ine myn stomak.

So gode, so gode, gode.

 

Now, þis feste is ine myne stomak.

So gode, so gode, gode.

Now, þis feste is ine myne stomak.

So gode, so gode, gode.

 

I love þis feste is ine myn stomak!

 

_________________________________________

So of course, this is a challenge to make the Yo Gabba Gabba “Party in my stomach” song into Middle English. (You may all thank Master Angus Pembridge for the throw-down.)

HOWEVER as with many things, it has proved (and is proving) a delightful challenge. A somewhat informed translation of this relatively simple piece has been hilarious. Many of these words don’t exist in Middle English so getting the idea of them without losing the humor has been a great challenge. It’s also, naturally, been a better teacher for me about Middle English than many projects have been, because I had to consider “I” and “my” and “your” and what carrots would have been called. It took me far past “forsoothly” and into the realm of Chaucer’s works, dictionaries, and a paper on exclamations in Chaucer’s writings.  I have deep respect for translators.

I’ll probably learn more about this, and I’m sure there are corrections, but it’s a solid work in progress I think.

Next I have to set it to appropriate period music. Middle English Chanson is the challenge. It will not resemble this in structure I think, but it will in spirit.

The process is below, with some links to some of the more helpful sources I used.

Hello, friends.It’s lunchtime.Hey, everyone.It’s lunchtime.Time to eat!Here you go, Brobee.

Time to eat!

Mmm!

All hail my friends.Go dine!What now all.Go dine.Why not eat?Here you go Osbert.

Why not eat?

Mmm!

Al hayl myn frenden.Dinen  gan. What now alle.Dinen  gan.Whi nat ete?Heren Osbert.

Whi nat ete?

Mmm!

I’m gonna eat, yeah.Yummy, yummy.Gonna eat, yeah!Yummy, yummy. I eat, by faith!Good, good!I eat, ey!Good, good. I eate, y fayth!Gode, gode!I eate, ey!Gode, gode!
Chicken! (Yeah!)  In my tummy.Party, party.(Yeah!) In my tummy.Cheese! (Yeah!)  In my tummy.Party, party.(Yeah!)  In my tummy Hen! What how! In my stomach!Feast, feast!Oh! In my stomach.Cheese! What how! In my stomach.Feast, feast.Oh! In my stomach Henne! What how! In myn  stomak!Feste, feste.O! in myn stomak.Chese! What how! In myne  stomak!Feste, feste.O! in myn stomak.
Juice! (Yeah!)In my tummy.Yeah! Broth! What how!In my stomach.Oh. Jus! What how!In myn stomakO
There’s a party in my tummy.(So yummy. So yummy.)Now, there’s a party in my tummy.(So yummy. So yummy, yummy.)Hey, there’s a party in my tummy.(So yummy. So yummy.)Now, there’s a party in my tummy.(So yummy. So yummy, yummy.)Yummy, yummy! This feast is in my stomach.So good, so goodNow there is a feast in my stomach.So good, so good, good.All hail! There is a feast in my stomach.So good, so good.Now there is a feast in my stomach.So good, so good, good.Good, good. þis feste is ine myne stomak.So gode, so gode.Now, þis feste is ine myne stomak.So gode, so gode, gode.Al hayl! þis feste is ine myne stomak.So gode, so godeNow, þis feste is ine myne stomak.So gode, so gode, gode.Good, good.
(CRYING)Why are you sad?(We want to go to the party, the party in your tummy.)Carrots want to go to the party in my tummy?(Yeah!)Oh! Well, do green beans want to go to the party in my tummy?(Yeah!)Well, okay! Let’s go! (Exclamation, sad.)Why do you cry?We would make feast in your stomach, the feast in your stomach.Carrots want to feast in my stomach?Yes!Oh! Green beans would feast in my stomach?Yes!A ye! Let’s go down! Welylawey!Cryestow?We wod mak feste in thyn stomak, thilke feste in thyn stomakMores wolde festen in myn stomak?Yis!O! Grene benes wolde festen in myn stomak?Yis!A ye! Wenden dounn
Carrots! (Yeah!)In my tummy.Party, party.(Yeah!)In my tummy.Green beans! (Yeah!)In my tummy.Party, party. (Yeah!)In my tummy. Carrots! All hail!In my stomach.Feast, feast!Oh! In my stomach.Green beans! All hail! In my stomach.Feast, feast. Oh!In my stomach Mores! Al hayl!In myn  stomak!Feste, feste.O! in myn stomak.Grene benes! Al hayl!In myn  stomak!Feste, feste.O! in myn stomak.
There’s a party in my tummy.(So yummy. So yummy.)Now, there’s a party in my tummy.(So yummy. So yummy, yummy.)Now, there’s a party in my tummy.(So yummy. So yummy.)So, there’s a party in my tummy.(So yummy. So yummy, yummy.)Now, there’s a party in my tummy.

(So yummy. So yummy.)

Now, there’s a party in my tummy.

(So yummy. So yummy, yummy.)

Yummy, yummy!

I love the party in my tummy!

 

This feast is in my stomach.So good, so good.Now there is a feast in my stomach.So good, so good, good.All hail! There is a feast in my stomach.So good, so good.So there is a feast in my stomach.So good, so good, good.Now, this feast is in my stomach.So good, so good

Now there is a feast in my stomach.

So good, so good, good

Good, good!

I love this feast in my stomac

 

þis feste is ine myne stomak.So gode, so gode.Now, þis feste is ine myne stomak.So gode, so gode, gode.Now, þis feste is ine myne stomak.So gode, so gode.So, þis feste is ine myne stomak.So gode, so gode, gode.Now, þis feste is ine myn stomakSo gode, so gode.

Now, þis feste is ine myn stomak.

So gode, so gode, gode.

Gode, gode!

I love þis feste is ine myne stomak!

http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/Category:Middle_English_parts_of_speech

http://www.lib.rochester.edu/camelot/teams/tmsmenu.htm#w

http://www.nativlang.com/middle-english/middle-english-grammar.php

http://www.frathwiki.com/Middle_English

http://archive.org/stream/middleenglishdic00stra/middleenglishdic00stra_djvu.txt

http://www.lexilogos.com/english/english_middle.htm