Tag: Bardic Champion Year

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Leaves Red as Love

Listen to this song at: http://www.mbouchard.com/misc/leaves-red-as-love.mp3

There was once upon a time
I felt I was your princess.
You’d have charged through a battlefield
for a touch of my hand.

It was back when the trees were green
and the flowers were blooming wild,
and the smell of white roses
floated over the land.

True you never made promises
that the sea would not call you,
and you never swore to me
that you’d stay by my side.

But the way that you walked with me
under trees in the moonlight,
I was sure that where my heart was
yours would ever reside.

But the trees have turned red as my love
And the stars slumber over the clouds
I have waited for you to return to me
But I can’t find your face in the crowds…

I know the king is not hiring
since the war is now over long.
I have watched every ship come in
still with no word of you.

The cabin boys shake their heads
when I show them your portrait
as I stand with the salt wind in my hair
wondering what to do.

For the leaves have turned red as my love
And the stars slumber over the clouds
I have waited for you to return to me
But I can’t find your face in the crowds…

I am sure you’re no silkie rare
now returned to the ocean deep.
You’ve not turned to a raven black,
or suffered any such fate.

No, I think you’re just a man
who has left me here longing.
This princess will rescue herself
I suppose, rather than wait.

For the leaves have turned red as my love
And the stars slumber over the clouds
I have waited for you to return to me
But I can’t find your face in the crowds…

There was once upon a time
I felt I was your princess
You’d have charged through the battlefield
for a touch of my hand.

It was back when the trees were green
and the flowers were blooming wild
and the smell of white roses
floated over the land.

 

* * *    * * *    * * *    * * *

Today was such a grey, rainy day that the leaves looked red, but nearly brokenhearted. The rain wasn’t hard enough to actually matter, just enough to make you feel like you were waiting for nothing in particular to happen. And it also made me think of staring out of a window, watching for someone. Usually that ends in my head with someone coming home, but today, nobody came. Well, that’s not entirely true. This song came, and I’m glad I let the little melancholic, heartbroken thing in out of the rain.

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Called the Captain

A song for Cedric of Armorica and the Eastern Unbelted Champions of Pennsic XL.
To listen or download, go here:  http://mbouchard.com/misc/Called-the-Captain.mp3

Go, go, go – came the call from the captain
Go, go, go – take our land back, he cried.
We will go, go, go as we are commanded
And our rivals will go to a man or will die.

Thirty-five men marched into the sunlight;
Thirty-five men shouted their battle cry;
Thirty-five men knew that they had a story,
That they would be victors no man would deny.

Many years passed since this field had been theirs,
Now held by the dragon for many a day.
They to a man swore they would take it or perish
And write with their own blood the end of this play.

Go, go, go – came the call from the captain
Go, go, go – take our land back, he cried.
We will go, go, go as we are commanded
And our rivals will go to a man or will die.

Over the wintering they practiced and plotted.
One with a spear would fight one with a sword.
The pole met the axe, shattering both in darkness;
Weapons and men were thus stronger reforged.

Some were the fire and others the water.
Cedric did hammer, Feral stoked the flame.
Folded with each blow were patterns of tigers,
When summer emerged they were ready for fame.

Go, go, go – came the call from the captain
Go, go, go – take our land back, he cried.
We will go, go, go as we are commanded
And our rivals will go to a man or will die.

To the field brothers, came clarion call,
Into the dragon-men girded with red.
They stood but a heartbeat then took up the charge
And in less than one minute the dragons were dead.

A moment of silence – no sound but the birds…
Men fell to their knees and raised fists to the sky,
Then all pulled together with full understanding
That this battle was theirs indeed none could deny.

Go, go, go – came the call from the captain
Go, go, go – take our land back, he cried.
We will go, go, go as we are commanded
And our rivals will go to a man or will die.

Go, go, go – came the call from the captain
Go, go, go – take our land back, he cried.
We will go, go, go as we are commanded
And our rivals have gone to a man or have died.

 

**  **  **  **  **  **  **  ** **  **  **  **

I will confess to being kind of…fond, we’ll say, of the Pennsic XL Eastern Ubelted Champions. I will also admit that the battle at Pennsic XL was one of the most fantastic things I’ve witnessed on a field. Swift and brutal, it and the men who warred in it, were an inspiration. Cedric of Armorica was the Captain of this team, and this is a song about him and the team he led to victory. (And for Karl, I made sure it wasn’t too slow!)

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The Links of Virtue

The Links of Virtue

To listen to a learning version of this song, click here: http://www.mbouchard.com/misc/Links-of-Virtue.mp3

As the chain holds many links
So the Knight holds many virtues
Let them be strong as your arm
Let them be tempered as your love.
For it is not the chain you wear
Or the spurs or cloth of white
But the one beneath these things
Who all have seen,
and rightly called thee Knight.

Upon your arms wear loyalty
for you have sworn to king and country.
A helm of hope set on your brow
that all shall see it in the fight.
Guarding your knees, humility
for where you kneel, all will be watching.
About your waist wear honor proud
that all may see your values glow.

As the chain holds many links…

Wear your faith around your neck
for no gorget better protects you.
Mercy’s gauntlet upon each hand
that brighter shine with actions kind.
Bind your courage against your breast
that bravado find no purchase.
Nail to each sole, obedience
that you may walk where you are asked.

As the chain holds many links….

Endurance buckle to each leg
for there will be some marches long.
Wear prowess strapped across your back
to push you when the need is dire.
Your heart leave open, behind no shield –
It will be guarded by your brothers
For it is there that Chivalry
Is the chain about us all.

As the chain holds many links
So the Knight holds many virtues
Let them be strong as your arm
Let them be tempered as your love.
For it is not the chain you wear
Or the spurs or cloth of white
But the one beneath these things
Who all have seen,
and rightly called thee Knight.

For it is not the chain you wear
Or the spurs or cloth of white
But the one beneath these things
Who all have seen,
and rightly called thee Knight.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

This song was inspired by those members of the Order of Chivalry who to me truly embody the graces that a Knight ought to have. I see such people armored with the many chivalric virtues not merely when they are “playing” in the SCA, but who never remove those virtues, regardless of event, circumstance, life in general – some of those people are close to me and I am honored to know them and be graced with their friendship.  This is a song for those men and women.

There are also many I know who hold these virtues but who have not been (yet) recognized as members of the Order of Chivalry, but who are, to me, certainly very worthy. I am confident that they know who they are.

And it is, finally, dedicated to Sir Ivar Volosatoi, who, before he was Sir Ivar, asked me during Pennsic XL if I could sing during his Knighting ceremony a song I had written for the Eastern Unbelted Champions team. I could not be at the event, John Barleycorn, but wished to send something in my stead. It was delivered by some of the most lovely voices in the East, who learned it from listening to a recording and sang it to him on September 10, AS 46.

 Enormous thanks to the lovely ladies Sabine de Kerbriant, Suba Al-Hadid, Marion Quyn, and Ysmay dle Lynn and Judith Fitzhenry for bearing this gift with their beautiful voices.  Their performance can be seen in this video of the first part of Sir Ivar’s Knighting ceremony.



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I Am Eastern

A song for the East. Conceived by Countess Svava, Count Thorson, Sir Antonio Patrasso (and me) around the breakfast table after spring Crown Tourney, AS46. Suitable for all fighters, and can even be sung in a round!

I am Eastern, I am Eastern

So are you, So are you

Let’s go beat the midrealm, Let’s go beat the midrealm

With a stick, With a stick

 

Sung to the honorable tune, Frere Jaques.

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The March Home

A challenge was given to write a on the topic of coming home from war. While we all know we mean Pennsic, I chose to take the perspective of a Roman legionary who is returning to his own lands, on the long march, seeming longer every day the closer he is to home, walking on the red roads home after brutal battles. The tune is inspired by an actual Roman melody, adapted for this use. The chords, played on harp, would have been appropriate.  The song from which my melody is culled is entitled XVIII and was preformed by Musica Romana.

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

Dum spiramus tuebimur (While we breathe, we shall defend.)
Long has the march on the red road gone.
When again, when shall I see my home?
Dum vivimus, vivamus. (While we live, let us live.)

I wear my tunica woven of wool
though blood and sweat
now stain it through
Filth, smoke and battle have colored its trim
Dulce bellum inexpertis (War is sweet for those who have not experienced it.)

Beneath my lorica, over my heart
is the palla that smelled
of my wife’s hair
I have carried her love with me over long roads
Hic habitat felicitas (Here lives happiness.)

Dum spiramus tuebimur
Long has the march on the red road gone.
When again, when shall I see my home?
Dum vivimus, vivamus.

I carry three fibulae on my best cloak
Bought from a place
I have long forgot
Two for my sons cast like lion’s claws
Natura, artis magistra (nature, the mistress of art)

My caligae ruined, my cingulum weighs
I desire my farm,
my bare feet in soil.
Soon I will leave my pilae for my plow
Nulla vit melior quan bona. (There is no life better than a good life.)

Dum spiramus tuebimur
Long has the march on the red road gone.
When again, when shall I see my home?
Dum vivimus, vivamus.

When shall I lay in my courtyard green?
I long to drink
my vinyard’s wine.
Wrest with my sons, make love to my wife
Et nos cedamus amori. (Let us too surrender to love.)

Dum spiramus tuebimur
Long has the march on the red road gone.
When again, when shall I see my home?
Dum vivimus, vivamus.