Ramblin' Rover ~ Andy Stewart

And this time I'm adding the Chords

Chorus
There are (D)sober men a-plenty
And drunkards barely twenty
There are (G)men of over (D)ninety
Who have (Em)never yet kissed a (G)girl
But give (D)me a rambling rover
From Orkney down to Dover
We will (G)roam the country (D)over
And to(Em)gether we'll (A)face the (D)world

There are (D)many who seek enjoyment
Of merciless employment
Their am(G)bition this de(D)ployment
Since the (Em)minute they left the (G)school
And they (D)scrape and save and ponder
While the rest go out and squander
See the (G)world and rove and (D)wander
For they're (Em)happier (A)as a (D)rule

Chorus

I have (D)roamed through all the nations
Took delight in all creation
I've en(G)joyed a wee sen(D)sation
When the (Em)company did prove (G)kind
When (D)parting was no pleasure
I drank another measure
To the (G)good friends that we (D)treasure
For they (Em)always are on (A)our (D)mind

Chorus

If you're (D)bent with arthritis   
And your bowels have got colitis
You've gal(G)loping bollo(D)ckitis     
And your (Em)thinking it's time you'd (G)died
If you've (D)been a man of action
And you're lying there in traction
You can (G)gain some satis(D)faction
Thinkin' "(Em)Jaysus, at (A)least I (D)tried"

Chorus twice

Freaking the Mundanes

Tune : Waltzing Matilda

Freaking the mundanes, freaking the mundanes,
You’ll come a-freaking the mundanes with me,
And we sang as we walked down the sidewalk in our funny clothes
You’ll come a-freaking the mundanes with me.

Once a noble Baron held his court in Bordermarch
Under the shade of the Library
And we sang as we marched down the sidewalk in our funny clothes
You’ll come a-freaking the mundanes with me.

Went to the Steppes to hold a little melee there
Thousands of people came to see
And we sang as we swung our swords upon the soccer field
You’ll come a-freaking the mundanes with me.

Went to the Norsemen to hear Lee Majors shout “O-din!”
The price was right, we got in free!
And we sang as we sat and barfed into our paper bags
You’ll come a-freaking the mundanes with me.

Officer’s meeting turned into a donnybrook
Out came the daggers, one – two – three
Varg wouldn’t let us melee in his living room
You’ll come a-freaking the mundanes with me.

Once a Stargate lady went down to the Laundromat
To wash the tabards, dirty from war
And she sang and she smiled as she folded the clean laundry
Chainmail doesn’t wash out, you see.

In his black tights and velvet cape he pedals through the city streets
Chasing off dogs with his epee
And he smiles and waves as traffic stops left and right
You’ll come a-freaking the mundanes with me.

In the junkyard they found domes of metal keen and bright
At which they hurled rocks with glee
And they danced and they sang envisioning new helms
You’ll come a-freaking the mundanes with me.

Once upon a Sunday night he pulled into a Texaco
On his way back from the touney
And the gas jockey said, “Can I help you, Father?”
He was a-freaking the mundanes, you see.
(and he smiled as he said, “No thank you, my son.”)

This young Stargate lady loves to tell the story
How Hogan was beheaded, easy as could be
And she laughs as she sees expressions of her mundane friends
She loves to go a-freaking the mundanes, you see.

In Beaumont, Channel 12 was invaded in the night
Tessa wished to see herself on TV
The Ansteorran news team and the barbarian weather wench
Really freaked out the FCC!

He took his greatsword and his shield into the show room
“If they won’t fit in the trunk, it’s not the car for me.”
And the salesmen stood and gaped in shocked silence
He really freaked out the Ford company.

Fighter practice in the park, a chiming from from the road was heard
“Stand and deliver!” cried the bold company
And they sang as they munched on their sno-cones and ice cream bars
You’ll come a-freaking the mundanes with me.

Don’t sit at home and dream your dreams in solitude
This will be fun, I guarantee
Put on your costume, strap your weapon by your side
And you’ll come a-freaking the mundanes with me.

Bedlam Boys ~ traditional 16th century.

For to see my Tom of Bedlam, 10,000 miles I'd travel
Mad Maudlin goes on dirty toes, to save her shoes from gravel.

Still I sing bonnie boys, bonnie mad boys,
Bedlam boys are bonnie
For they all go bare and they live by the air,
And they want no drink nor money.

I went down to Hell's kitchen, for to beg me food one morning
There I got souls piping hot, all on the spit a turning.

There I picked up a cauldron, Where boiled 10,000 harlots
Though full of flame I drank the same, to the health of all such varlets.

My staff has murdered giants, my bag a long knife carries
For to cut mince pies from children's thighs, with which to feed the fairies.

The spirits white as lightning, shall on my travels guide me
The moon would quake and the stars would shake, when' ere they espied me.

No gypsy slut nor doxy, shall win my Mad Tom from me
I'll weep all night, the stars I'll fight, the fray will well become me.

It's when next I have murdered, the Man-In-The-Moon to powder
His staff I'll break, his dog I'll bake, they'll howl no demon louder.

So drink to Tom of Bedlam, he'll fill the seas in barrels
I'll drink it all, all brewed with gall, with Mad Maudlin I will travel.

Lament of the Combat Archer ~ Ken Theriot

Yes, in our house the Combat Archer is a hero; it’s sad that such a 
vital and realistic element of historical combat doesn’t get the 
respect it merits. Maybe we can do something about that… 


“Your pardon, Sir, I’m sure you were 
Quite heedless of my kill, 
And never thought my arrow shot 
Struck full upon your grill; 
I just wanted to alert you, 
As a service, as I’ve said, 
A combat archer loosed a bolt 
That hit you in the head.” 

 “And who are you, when day is through, 
That you should come to me, 
A chainéd knight, with belt of white, 
And leaves of strawberry? 
I recognize no injury 
From men of lesser skill, 
So take your little bow, my man, 
And hit me where you will.” 

“Hold on, Your Grace, I know my place, 
But serf or chivalry, 
The rule’s the same within this game 
For you as well as me; 
Perhaps my King’s commander 
Or the marshal of the field 
Would like you to explain why you 
Have no intent to yield.” 

“Though you may press, there’s no redress— 
I’m on the B-oh-D; 
The autocrat wants her brass hat; 
The marshal works for me. 
I outrank each official 
Even up to your own Crown 
There’s no one you can turn to 
Who will tell me to lie down.” 

“Your Grace, I see we disagree 
In little things and great; 
I will not plead, but here concede 
The point in our debate. 
Since honor cannot move you 
To behavior just and right, 
Perhaps there is another way 
To make you see the light. 

Though next to you, I’ve titles few, 
I’ve something to confess-- 
In life mundane, I must explain, 
I’m with the IRS; 
So, unless you want an audit 
Every year until you’re dead, 
You’ll lie down when a combat archer 
Hits you in the head!” 


Words by Lisa Theriot 
Music by Ken Theriot 
© 2013, Raven Boy Music 

Tourney Chest ~ The Bards of Keypoint

While walking merchant's row one day
My lady, she did find
Some lovely jewels and treasures
Of the rare and precious kind
She bought her friends all necklaces
Herself, a brand new dress
But the treasure that I love the most
Is her new tourney chest

Yes, her tourney chest
Her tourney chest
She has a lovely tourney chest
She found it for the low, low price
Of being under-dressed
Her tourney chest
Her tourney chest
She has a lovely tourney chest
She keeps the treasures I like best
Locked inside her tourney chest

A damsel had a duty
One sunny summer day
Of leading dragon riders
To the place where they would stay
And with her corset tied up tight
As dragons like it best
They left her with the treasure
Of a dark red tourney chest

Yes, her tourney chest
Her tourney chest
She has a lovely tourney chest
It's tied up tight and glows at night
While in the dragon's nest
Her tourney chest
Her tourney chest
She has a lovely tourney chestShe keeps the treasure I like best

Locked inside her tourney chest

While sitting in town square
Underneath a bright blue sky
A lovely maiden played her harp
For all the people passing by
Some gave her coins of silver
Others offered their requests
The sun itself gave her the token
Of a mid-day tourney chest

Yes, her tourney chest
Her tourney chest
She has a lovely tourney chest
She's never flat when she plays like that
As listeners can attest
To her tourney chest
Her tourney chest
She has a lovely tourney chest
She keeps the treasure I like best
Locked inside her tourney chest

While jousters rode their horses
At a midsummer event
The royalty sat watching
To judge who was the best
As the victor came forward
After besting every test
The queen herself bestowed the trophy
But kept the tourney chest

Yes, her tourney chest
Her tourney chest
She has a lovely tourney chest
It's large and rare and very fair
And holds the royal crest
On her tourney chest
Her tourney chest
She has a lovely tourney chest
She keeps the treasure I like best
Locked inside her tourney chest

Now, my lady, may I be so bold

To look at you and say
Your tourney chest holds treasures
That I'd love to see displayed
I'd guard them with my life
And I'd love them tenderly
So I hope that one day soon
I may possess the key

To your tourney chest
Your tourney chest
You have a lovely tourney chest
It's large and pink, now don't you think
You need more SPF
On your tourney chest
Your tourney chest
You have lovely tourney chest
You keep the treasures I like best
Locked inside your tourney chest

Music, lyrics and more from Nathan McCartney to be found at 

http://bards.lendral.com/music/bard/tourneychest.html

Ban the Fencers ~ Thomas Bordeaux

Here in the Western kingdom

We're inclusive as can be
We'd never rain on your parade
Just 'cause we don't agree
There's lots of ways to play this game
We want you to have fun
We'd never tell you what to do
Or what should not be done.

And if you are of the Nipponese
Well, that's all right with us
We'll let you be a Samurai
And we'll not make a fuss
Sure, Western Europe's more our style
But you're free to play your game
We'd never want to hem you in
'Cause it's really all the same

Chorus:
But ban the fencers
They're all hopeless thugs and thieves
They're dangerous, too brightly dressed
And recreating sleeves
Let's ban the fencers
'Cause with us they don't belong
And if you should see to disagree
Then you'd best move along.

And if you don't like costumes
And sewing is a bore
Just come to court in worn-out jeans
We'd never ask for more
It's more important what's inside
Than what you won't put on
We'd never tell you differently
For that would just be wrong.

And if you are of the Mongol Horde
Well, you need not come to court
What does that matter, anyhow?
With you we'll still consort
And you can call us "chugwa"
'Cause that just means "not tribe"
We're mindful of your hopes and dreams
Which we would not deride.

Chorus 

And when it comes to music
Just play what e'er you will
Beatles filks are quite alright
We never get our fill
Don't worry 'bout those "period" songs
Or about the way they're made
We'd rather hear the raunchy ones
About the girls you've laid.


So if you ever come up to the West
You know we'll treat you right
We'll party 'til the cows come home and
Howl at the moon all night
We'll tell you, "Welcome to the West
Now please take off your clothes!"
But leave your rapiers behind
We won't put up with those!

Yeah, ban the fencers
Who are they to act like knights?
And that White Scarf just makes me barf
We'll soon set things to right
We're gonna ban the fencers
'Cause they don't know right from wrong
And if you should see to disagree
Then you'd best move along!