Tag: war song

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We Wear the Purple and Gold

…”Next I would hear a song for the East.”  So saith my King Lucan unto me at Vinland Raids. And so, a song for the East, completed in time for our Southern War Practice. It is a softer song, one for the night before battle, when the camp is lit with fire and all sit, tell stories, sharpen swords and work at the forges. It is a lullaby of sorts, started out as a lullaby for an army which will split the very earth come morning, but it became a dance for the night before battle.

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

We wear the Purple and Gold
And fight for all we are worth
Follow the purple and gold
Tygers sharpen your claws on the earth

Our brothers we may all know
Our sisters fight here beside us
Tyger’s love is not for show
‘Tis the glory of battle that binds us

We wear the Purple and Gold…

Take up the pike and the spear
Swords and shields gather around us
for honor of those who are here
for defeat of those who oppose us

We wear the Purple and Gold…

Hear the blood pound in your ears
‘Tis the drum of the battle we seek
Azure paws stamp to the beat
Victory does not fall to the meek

We wear the Purple and Gold…

Fight for your King and your land,
for your Queen and the day will be taken
Eastern pride all will withstand
those who fight us are clearly mistaken.

We wear the Purple and Gold
And fight for all we are worth
Follow the purple and gold
Tygers sharpen your claws on the earth
Tygers sharpen your claws on the earth
Tygers sharpen your claws on the earth!

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I am of the North

“As the Pennsic War nears, we all prepare for battle. This post appeared after the war practice at Sommer Draw in early June, posted by Master Angus Kerr Pembridge. Being Northern, it had no small effect on my spirits, and so I wrote a song inspired by his words.”
This song is featured on the CD “I Am of the North” available for purchase online at: http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/aneledafalconbridge

I am of the North.
My soul sings in the Winter Wind.
My blade was quenched in the snow.
No soft Southern Sun warmed my crib.
War is coming. The Northern Banners Raise high.
My Brothers gather, our weapons gleaming in the Sun.
And all, all gathered, say the same thing. “I am of the North.”
(Master Angus Pembridge)

*   *   *   *   *   *

If you would find honor
look toward Polaris.
War it is coming; our banners raise high.
As Brothers we gather, our weapons gleaming
And all who are gathered,
say the same thing.
“I am of the North”

My soul sings in the Winter Wind.
It tears through the mountains
as we through the foe.
The winter wind calls
and my brothers come join her
she carries their voices where we are to go.

If you would find honor look toward Polaris…

No soft Southern Sun warmed my crib.
I was born in a blizzard,
first steps on the frost.
My first lullaby
was a warsong of glory
and the snapping of banners by the wind tossed.

If you would find honor look toward Polaris…

My blade was quenched deep in snow.
Brought from the fire
it blazed red as sun.
Bitterly plunged into
winter’s cold scabbard
it craves the blood that o’re it shall run.

If you would find honor look toward Polaris…

War is upon us, our banners rise.
Bear up your weapons,
hear the wind call.
We move toward the warm lands
where together we conquer,
“I am of the North” sing each and all.

If you would find honor look toward Polaris…

Thank you Angus!

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The Broken Towers

Listen to this song here, at http://mbouchard.com/misc/broken-towers.mp3

A knight went a riding on the finest of days
never to think of fate’s fickle ways.
He sang a sweet song as he rode through the wood
the day had portents of nothing but good.

But deep in the forest came a scent on the breeze
of fire and danger, unseen through the trees.
It came from village, his castle, his keep
where he had just that morn left his lady asleep.

He turned round his charger and blew loud the horn.
He tore ore the thickets and jumped ore the thorn.
He near broke his mount with his spurs in her side
to beat the flames like thunder he’d ride

Beneath the bright sky of impossible blue
the sky was now colored an impossible hue.
The keep had been broken the great towers were down;
his squires were all dead and the place held no sound.

Heedless of all, he charged through the gate
until he found his lady he would not abate.
He found her struck mute by the sights she had seen
in the courtyard garden, grey o’re the green.

She wore fine silver ashes instead of a gown.
She wore broken windows in place of her crown.
She looked right through him as he lifted her high.
She did not once move, or utter a sigh.

The knight tried all the things that the stories do tell
from magical apples to the life-giving well.
The gifts she ignored and the glass pushed away,
for her madness kept in her the fear of that day.

She built a wide fortress inside of her heart
with stones o’re the gate, and no weakening art.
She dug it in deep, and moved below the earth
living as dead alone in that dark berth.

At last the brave man built o’re every door
and changed all the standards to gules from bright or.
He had given his oath to care for his wife,
and so planted a garden to surround her with life.

His lady did die in her fortress so cold.
His love could not reach her, no matter how bold.
He had done what he could, and is spotless of blame.
He mourned her with candles, and wept at the flame.

The wound still aches hotly when the smoke fills the air,
though nothing is burning, he senses it there.
When he hears the sweet tune he was singing that day
in spite of himself, he is carried away.

Oh would I could bring him some succor and peace,
A balm or a salve that could make his pain cease.
Do not succumb to your dear lady’s fate,
For a garden grows richly outside your estate.

I cannot bring back the castle or rebuild his keep
I have only my voice to lullay him to sleep.
But I will protect him, his sorrows allay
So rest, sweet knight, slumber and dream of the day.

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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.

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Eastern War song

Created by the mad scientists at Pastrano Laboratories after Spring Crown Tourney AS46.

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!

(To the tune of Frere Jaques, more or less.)

 

(Created by Lady Aneleda, Jarl Thorson, Countess Svava, and Syr Antonio over bagels. Muhahahahahha!)