Gypsy Rover - sung by a friend

The gypsy rover came over the hill,
Through pathways green and shady.
He whistled and he sang 'til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a lady.

Chorus

She left her father's castle gate;
She left her fine young lover.
She left her courtiers and her state
To follow the gypsy rover.

Chorus

Her father called his trackers and
His huntsmen from all over.
He sent his men and he sent his hounds
To find the gypsy rover.

Chorus

"He is no gypsy, father" she said,
"But lord of this land all over.
"And I shall stay 'til my dying day
"With my whistling gypsy rover."

Chorus

Last night she slept on a goose-feather bed
With soft and silken covers.
Tonight she sleeps on the cold hard ground
Beside her gypsy lover.

Chorus.

A Valkyrie Song ~ Mikal Hrfspa (Mikal the Ram)

Alone by the fire, a warrior I knew 

Told me this tale, and I pray it is true.

From far Ansteorra our dragon-ship came 

To fight for good Halidar on Lilied plain 

My sword I had lent seeking honor and fame 

Or Odin's great hall in the fray

We charged into battle, the sun beating high 

Our battle-horns sounding a victory nigh 

Our spears crossed their arrows like hawks in the sky 

Leaving many men dead on the way

Sing me no songs of angels I pray 

For a Valkyrie found me in battle that day

The battle was long and the sun was like fire 

The heat drove us down like a funeral pyre 

Though many I'd slain, now my bloodlust did tire 

Struck down by the heat of the day

The battle moved onward from where I was laid 

I drew of my helmet to rest in the shade 

When a soft even tread, like the wind in a glade 

Brought a daughter of Asgard my way

Sing me no songs of angels I pray 

For a Valkyrie found me in battle that day

She gave me cool drink 'till my wits came again 

Be fore I could speak she was gone like the wind 

Had I but died, I could follow her then 

But I lay with the living that day

Long I did search, a full year I have mourned 

And told all my brothers this love I have bourne 

But she is of Asgard, and I of this shore 

So here with my brothers I stay

Sing me no songs of angels I pray 

For a Valkyrie found me in battle that day

True to this dream like the tale I have told 

Close to my heart, a small pouch I still hold 

And in it a lock of her hair pure as gold 

This I carry to battle this day

Alone by the fire 

A warrior I knew 

Told me this tale 

And I pray it is true.....

Don't Ever Love...

Don't Ever LoveWords and music by Rhonwen y Llysieuyddes(m.k.a. Julia Howarth West)

      G    D7     G               C                 D7

don't ever love a fighter:  He'll care more for his sword.
    C                    G               A7                D7
And while he's out there fighting you're on the sidelines, bored.
    G                C        G         C                D7
And even when you're snuggled close and have him in your arms
     C        D7          G          C    D7       G
He's much too bruised and tired to appreciate your charms.

Don't ever love a bard, for he'll care more for his song.
He'll often go a-roaming and won't take you along.
And even when you've got him home beside you in your bed
Your beauty makes him get up and write a song, instead!

Don't ever love a scholar:  he'll care more for a book.
He'll leave you for a hist'ry without a second look.
And even when you coax him with your most seductive air
He goes on with his studies as if you were not there.

Don't ever love a merchant, a sailor, or a thief;
And 'specially not a peasant--they'll only cause you grief.
They're all too busy working to give you the love you need.
Their thoughts are always elsewhere:  on wares, or ships, or seed.

But if, despite these warnings, you take a fancy to
A male of the species there's something you can do!
A way I've found to ease the pain, and help you carry on:
Enjoy him while you've got him--seek others when he's gone!

Words and music copyright © 1978 by Julia Howarth (West)

---

"Don't Ever Love" is pretty easy to add verses to, either for SCA or SF. Here are some of the verses written by other people in an SCA context. Try your own (and share the good ones with me).

Don't ever love a herald:  his duties never cease;
When he's not in a meeting he's heralding a feast.
And if you should, with pun sublime, entice him to your bed,
He will not take advantage; he'll warrant you, instead!
--Keridwen of Montrose

Don't ever love a Baron, don't love a Prince or King;
Their duties never leave them any time for better things.
And when, at last, with candle burning, up the stairs you creep,
You'll find their chambers chilly and you'll find them fast asleep!
--AElfwynn Gyrthesdohtor

http://www.sff.net/people/julia.west/songs/dontever.html

Acres and Acres

          When I was a young girl I went to the hill,
          To seek huckleberries, my basket to fill.
          They hung on the branches like grapes on the vine
          Acres and acres, and all of it mine!
           
          My mama's a weaver, her work without flaws
          From woolens of coat-weight to linens like gauze.
          I played in the storeroom with satins so fine--
          Acres and acres and all of it mine!
          
          A man came to court me, and won him my hand,
          Gentle and loving with great. . .tracts of land;
          His face it is handsome, his form it is fine--
          Acres and acres, and all of it mine!

Worms of the Earth

Worms of the Earth
Words and Music by : Sir Volodomir Kambionets, OL (Bob Esty) Copywrite 1986

My father worked on the land,
as did his father before him
Plowing and sowing by hand,
and harvesting what the land bore him.
He was killed by the robbers before I was ten,
One stroke of the sword and then they were gone,
while our lord strutted bravely on top his tall walls
and did nothing to hinder the slaughter.

CHORUS:
For we are the worms of the earth
Against the lions of might.
All of our days we are tied to the land,
While they hunt and they feast and they fight.
We give our crops and our homes and our lives
And the clerics tell us this is right.
And they've beat us before and they'll beat us again
But we'll drink from their helmets tonight.

Our lord rode away to the wars
mounted on top a tall stallion,
To fight for some noble cause,
With his knights there and henchmen to guard him.
Then we heard that they captured both he and his men,
And for that, they raised our taxes again,
For to pay the great ransom in gold and in gems
to get our lord back to rule us.

CHORUS

This year there was a great drought,
Our crops were burnt in the ground.
Not that our lord did without,
for his men took all that they found.
Then our lord came among us with some of his men,
to announce that the taxes were raised yet again,
so a few of us acted on our desperate plan,
now his body is meat for the crows.

(No chorus here.)

Into the fire we stare,
behind our poor barricade,
Too tired to feel the despair,
Knowing no one will come to our aid.
For when that sun rises the knights all around,
They will gather in force and they'll hunt us all down,
and they'll mount our heads proudly on pikes in the town,
and our final tax will be paid.

FINAL CHORUS:

For we are the worms of the earth,
Against the lions of might.
All of our days we are tied to the land,
While they hunt and they feast and they fight.
We give our crops and our homes and our lives,
And the clerics tell us this is right.
And they've beat us before,
And they'll kill us tomorrow,
But we'll drink from their helmets tonight.

Savage Daughter

Refrain:
 I am my mother's savage daughter,
 The one who runs barefoot, cursing sharp stones.
 I am my mother's savage daughter,
 I will not cut my hair, I will not lower my voice.


My mother's child is a savage.
She looks for her omens in the colors of stones,
In the faces of cats, in the fall of feathers,
In the dancing of fire and the curve of old bones.


Refrain
My mother's child dances in darkness,
And she sings heathen songs by the light of the moon,
And watches the stars, and renames the planets,
And dreams she can reach them with a song and a broom.


Refrain
Now my mother's child curses too loud and too often.
My mother's child laughs too hard and too long,
And howls at the moon and sleeps in ditches,
And clumsily raises her voice in this song.


Refrain
Now we all are brought forth out of darkness and water,
Brought into this world through blood and through pain,
And deep in our bones the old songs are waking,
So sing them with voices of thunder and rain!


(i) We are my mother's savage daughters,
 The ones who run barefoot, cursing sharp stones.
 We are my mother's savage daughters,
 We will not cut our hair, we will not lower our .


(ii) We are my mother's savage daughters,
 The ones who run barefoot, cursing sharp stones.
 We are my mother's savage daughters,
 We will not cut our hair, we will not lower our .


(iii) We are my mother's savage daughters,
 The ones who run barefoot, cursing sharp stones.
 We are my mother's savage daughters,
 We will not cut our hair, we will not lower our voice.

Journey Cake Ho!

"This wasn't a trip i was planning to make

As I fled through the door with some good journeycake.

But my horse was saddled, so off I did ride

Thankful I still had my head and my hide.

Journeycake ho! Journeycake ho!

Make it and take it wherever you go.

Travel on water, on ice, or on snow,

It will keep you filled up till the morning.

The master was after me, likewise the noose,

I had to go quickly and lightly and loose.

So I grabbed what I could and I let the rest be;

I didn't have much--but at least I had me.

Journeycake ho! Journeycake ho!

Make it and take it wherever you go.

And if you've no money, you'll still have the dough

To keep you filled up in the morning."

~by Jane Yolen

Fruit of the Yew

FRUIT OF THE YEW

Grim warriors appeared decked in iron and gold,

Their bright banners snapped in the breeze

Harvest was over, the weather was cold

Turning hot breath to cloud in the freeze.

They moved over river and meadow and field

The peasantry scattered before

They gathered the wealth of the land on their shields

And carried it off to the shore.

"How can this happen and where is our King?

And where are the warriors we pay?"

"Aye, the King may be King where he sits on his throne

But his throne is four days ride away!"

So swift word was sent to the men of the woods,

"There'll be no trade for Winter this year.

No sacks of grain for the skin of the fox,

No ale for the flesh of the deer."

But deep in the woodlands of Wales grows a tree
And the name of that tree is the yew.

The fruit of the yew is a stout longbow stave

Throwing straight clothyard shafts strong and true!

They gathered in numbers from forest and fen

Walking soft, as the hunting-men do,

And hung at each side were the straight clothyard shafts,

In each hand was the fruit of the yew.

And slipping by night thru the still-burning steads,

They looked for the camp by the shore

And each made a vow, as he passed by the dead,

That the morning would even the score.

Well, morning broke clear and the raiders awoke

With a leisurely thought for the day

Till one showed his head and a soft bowstring spoke

From three hundred paces away!

And as he fell dead a loud, taunting voice cried

"It's a pleasure to pay you your due!

You came seeking all of the fruits of our land,

Have a taste of the fruit of the yew!"

For what use are shields that don't cover your legs?

Or helms that don't cover your eyes?

Or shirts of bright mail 'gainst a stout clothyard shaft

That can pierce through a stag on the fly?

The King arrived early, mud-spattered and tired,

But to look on a field of the dead.

Cut down from the front as they stood in their line,

Cut down from the rear as they fled!

"Who are the men that have done me this good?"

Asked the King, from his horse ridden lame.

"'Twas outlaws and brigands from deep in the woods

And they've since fled from whence they all came."

"Well would they take Pardon, and live in my Peace?"

Asked the King of his Councillor true,

"What them?" he replied, "They're a quarrelsome lot

And they'll not become lawful for you."

So raiders take heed of this story I tell

For to lengthen your lives, if you will!

When you go a-reavin' be sure of your mark!

Be sure that it matches your skill!

For England pays silver and Spain will pay gold

And France will grant land, this is true,

But seek not for wealth in the woodlands of Wales,

For they pay in the fruit of the yew!

The Naughty Young Maids of An Tir

Drachenwald girls will do it for pearls

Atlantians do it for jade

But if you want dames like consuming flames

Try an An Tirian maid.

OH! Hey nonny nonny hey nonny nonny lets give a cheer,

Lets give a cheer for the Maids of An Tir

Hey nonny nonny hey nonny nonny lets give a cheer,

For the naughty young Maids of An Tir.

If you like round asses

Try out Eastern lasses

For busoms you have to go West

But if you crave thighs and passionate sighs

The wenches of An Tir are best.

OH! Hey nonny nonny hey nonny nonny lets give a cheer,

Lets give a cheer for the Maids of An Tir

Hey nonny nonny hey nonny nonny lets give a cheer,

For the naughty young Maids of An Tir.

The girls of Trimaris are hot where their hair is

So is the Meridies maid

The girls of the Middle will cuddle (a little)

But An Tir is where you’ll get laid!

OH! Hey nonny nonny hey nonny nonny lets give a cheer,

Lets give a cheer for the Maids of An Tir

Hey nonny nonny hey nonny nonny lets give a cheer,

For the naughty young Maids of An Tir.

Caid wenches put out for a flagen of stout

The Outlanders do it for mead

But up in An Tir they'll buy you the beer

And give you whatever you need.

OH! Hey nonny nonny hey nonny nonny lets give a cheer,

Lets give a cheer for the Maids of An Tir

Hey nonny nonny hey nonny nonny lets give a cheer,

For the naughty young Maids of An Tir.

Out in Atenveldt they’ll go down on a Celt

Out in Ansteorra they bite

Out in Calontir they screw ONCE a year

But in An Tir they screw every night.

OH! Hey nonny nonny hey nonny nonny lets give a cheer,

Lets give a cheer for the Maids of An Tir

Hey nonny nonny hey nonny nonny lets give a cheer,

For the naughty young Maids of An Tir.

Hey nonny nonny hey nonny nonny lets give a cheer,

Lets give a cheer for the Maids of An Tir

Hey nonny nonny hey nonny nonny lets give a cheer,

For the naughty young Maids of An Tir!