I was thinking of favors this summer, as I made one for my husband, which he wore during Pennsic. This song is about the favor given a warrior off to war, made of a slip of the singer’s dress before he leaves to fight with the king’s men. It made me think of hopeful returns, and of what those favors would mean once the battles were over.
You can hear the song here: http://www.mbouchard.com/misc/The-Favored-One.mp3
My love he marched off with the King
So noble and commanding
To keep our lands Within our hands
He went away to war.
He carried only cloak and sword
And what he wore upon him
With but his code Upon the road
He went away to war.
I had no jewel or gift to send,
Nor woolen coat to give him
But of linen frayed A favor made
To take away to war.
I sewed my love on every hem
I gave it to his keeping
Brown cloth of mine With green leaves fine
To take away to war.
Hold my favor to your chest.
Feel my love through every trial.
Oh carry me beside your breast,
Oh carry me ‘cross every mile.
Months have gone past without a wordM
How should I know that he is well?
When story came Of a soldier’s fame
So far away at war.
“A man leapt in to save our king,
His head struck with a mighty blow
Without a sound He sank to ground
So far away at war.”
“About him all the battle raged;
Our king’s men conquered every one
He was taken in As he were kin
Here at the end of war.”
“All he possessed when he was raised
Was one favor of linen soft
It is his quest, He takes no rest,
Here at the end of war.”
Hold my favor to your chest.
Feel my love through every trial.
Oh carry me beside your breast,
Oh carry me ‘cross every mile.
“Like brothers now they have become
Though he recalls not where is home.
He swears love true Will bring him through
He seeks that lost to war.”
Oh, is it of the softest brown?
With greening leaves on every hem?
For if it be Then it is me
He seeks that’s lost to war.
The teller of the tale did cease
As with great joy he leapt away
To fetch the lord Who fell to sword
Brought far away from war.
My love he then brought to the hall
Where finally he met my eyes
Held in his hand, my linen band
Brought far away from war.
Hold my favor to your chest.
Feel my love through every trial.
Oh carry me beside your breast,
Oh carry me ‘cross every mile.
That tattered scrap of linen now
Lay in a box of finest gold
As has been writ Now here we sit
So long after the war.
My love he once marched with the King
So noble and commanding.
I hold his hands, my Lord of lands
So long after the war.
Hold my favor to your chest.
Feel my love through every trial.
Oh carry me beside your breast,
Oh carry me ‘cross every mile.