Friday, July 31, 2020

Walk in Shadow ~ Juliana la Bedele

Walk in Shadows


In the mountains south of hardwood

In the Shire I was raised

To the horns of hunting poachers

And the ocean white kissed waves

There I grew beside my true love

Playing in the forest bed

And I thought that when we grew

He would take my hand to Wed


my love he walks in shadows

Deeper in the forest free

And one day When he went walking

Met a lonely lennan sidhe


Hair a mass of golden sunlight

Eyes a dark and Emerald Sheen

Ruby lips over her Fang bite

Gowned in a pinning green

Slowly seeming over hours

My love returned and took two pen

And he wrote under her glamour

Words to charm the hearts of men


Chorus


How I weeped to see him happy

Eyes of glass and smile of rose

Always caught up in a story

Or sunk deep in musing throws

And I watched her stand beside him

Inspiration at a cost

Was it Fate or by her own whim

That she chose the man I lost.


Chorus


Now he's waning in the moonlight

Hands that quiver, heart that quake

he is wild  and feverbright eyed

And I watch my own heart break

They return into the woodland

And I follow where she tread

Till I came upon that deep glen

and my true love sleeping dead.


Chorus


Friday, May 18, 2018

Three Witches of Holgrovely


Three Witches
Three witches lived in Holgrovely
betwixt the town and fore the sea
one lived on lime,
one lived on thyme
and the last on a hazel tree.
The lime witch roamed the wave struck bath
the thyme witch seeped in earthen wrath
the last was she
who kept the tree
that birthed the throdden forest path.
One washed the town in sea breeze neat
One bore the town of summer heat
one looked and bade
to grow the shade
which stretched between their weathered feet
When Winter came the sea witch froze
Thyme burned in summer sun repose
but the hazel leaves
which weeps and grieves
stood still in her wrought hanging boughs
They hunt for her but never find
the witch that last is left behind
who never asked
to shoulder tasks
her sisters used to care and mind
There is one witch of Holgrovely
betwixt the town and fore the sea
she minds the waves,
the wood and staves

but ne'er forgets there once was three.

Minstrel Fine

Minstrel Fine

It's up in the morning and on my way
To marry make throughout the day
With a string or horn or wind or drum
I sing for you and I sing for fun
I wander near and I wander far
With a Wanderlust that fills my heart
And though the pickings be lean and hard
I live the life of the Bard-o live the life of bard
Well It Happened One Day by Averly
Between Fox Grove and the Briar Sea
My wagon was hailed with call to hold
By 13 men in brown and gold
The captain stepped forward with a nasty grin
And said “well bard, shall we begin?
I'll have your horse and your wagon fine
And tonight you'll sing for me and mine

Without do care for my tools or blade
They took my lead, but no fuss I made
For though they cut away my purse
They'd asked of me a song and verse
So That evening long I entertained
Of war and jest and love I sang
And I'd have left lighter and fed
but they ordered me, to the cpts bed.

I'll take anything but an insult made
Put my lute down and I drew my blade
And the captain who praised my sing song lilt
I knocked out flat with the pommel and hilt
A bard I'll be, and a minstrel fine
But my loves the dagger, so I carry nine
One for each bandit that jumped to the fray
Two in my sleeve when the rest ran away

I gathered my lute and my wagon and horse
Set out on my merry making course,
I'll give up my purse, I'll raise my voice
But I will fight if you take my choice!

Drums of the Hold

Drums
The drums, drums, drums of the hold
Keep rowing forward for silver and gold
We’ll sweat and we’ll strive to reach one more dawn
While the drums, drums, carry us on.

The first fjordman met on the side of the sea
I gutted with spearpoint at far pavency
Flint in the heather and fire in the town
We plundered all worth and we burnt the rest down

Chorus

The second sand touched down in dusk at the shore
Were met with the fjordmen that shield crossed my oar
With blade I’d have finished the lad in short time,
But the oaken long paddle, it did just as fine.

Chorus

The third day from hastings we sharpened the blade
And hit a small village for one saxon raid
The people were sleeping, they all sleep there still
The plunder was pour for the men we would kill

Chorus

Just four days from turning the ship home and east
We picked one last target to mark for a feast
But word had reached far and they ambushed our crew
The sword slipped my guard and it ran me clean through

Chorus

Liltgrass

Liltgrass

Thia of Foxgrove was pretty and sweet,
she kept the herb garden, she kept the ferns neat.
And any who traveled through Ironhold pass
would stop for a poultice, a cream, or liltgrass.

Martin was son of the household of Briar,
and sent off to Ironhold for his esquire.
And long did the two meet up their in the pass,
when she went a hunting for wild liltgrass.

They met in the morning to talk about fate,
they met in the afternoon high summer wait,
They met in the evening, but never out late,
For Martin would have her to Rowenall Gate.

Thia of Foxgrove was pretty and sweet,
she kept the herb garden, she kept the ferns neat.
And any who traveled through Ironhold pass
would stop for a poultice, a cream, or liltgrass.

The years were a skirmish, and hill bandit den,
and each time he came back, they'd laugh about when,
but soon he was knighted, and sent home back to Briar,
he promised her then, with a love to inspire.

Now in Briarhaven, when taking the oath,
t'is custom to bring forth a favor or troth.
And long wrote he home of his love from the fern,
That Anton and Ellan were want not to learn.

Thia of Foxgrove was pretty and sweet,
she kept the herb garden, she kept the ferns neat.
And any who traveled through Ironhold pass
would stop for a poultice, a cream, or liltgrass.

To win her to wife would be no mean a task,
for the men of the Marshland, she was a fine lass.
So Martin went searching that long winter home
Til he found a jewel laden, white oak, handled comb

He came to her yard, when the spring waters melt,
she knee deep in planting a small crop of spelt.
She laughed then to see him, as he helped her stand
then he brought out his troth and he asked for her hand.

Thia of Foxgrove was pretty and sweet
she kept the herb garden, she kept the ferns neat
and any who traveled through Ironhold pass
would stop for a poultice, a cream, or liltgrass.

The people of Briar, never knew what to do
with a Lady so versed in the dawn and the dew
that churned a fine poultice, and brought about mirth
who danced in the morning bare foot on the earth.

But all watched Lord Martin, who smiled in the day
and watched his love trimming the roses in may
and all knew that no one, no duchess or dame

could love him and be loved in return quite the same.

The White Doe

The White Doe

Under the full moon, out into the woodland
there rode out three horsemen, to hunt in the night.
One wielded a long bow, one clutched at a spear
the last held a horn in the shining moonlight

They hunted a white stag, seen roaming the woodland's
and sure of their own skill, they've bet till first light.
That three huntsmen only, could capture this great prize,
and bring home the glory, and show off their might.  

The White Doe is running, she knows they are coming,
she hears the horn calling,
The horse heavy footsteps, that tread in the wild grass
She flees down a new path.

The shadows would hide her, but moonlight is fiercer
and no place of darkness could smother her flank
The huntsmen see flashes of light through the tree's and
they've come to her lapping the cool riverbank.

Up came the long bow, and out came the arrow,
he notched to the string and the Father let loose
it nicked at the white doe who fled through the forest
and into a groove grown with aspen and spruce.

The White Doe is running, she knows they are coming,
she hears the horn calling,
The horse heavy footsteps, that tread in the wild grass
She flees down a new path.

They came to a trail, that spit into three paths
Now Father go westward, and Brother go east,
I'll travel now onward, and should the horn sound out
Then hurry to my side, for I've found the beast.

The Father took off left, and the Brother took right,  
the youngest went forward to track trail and mud.
He came upon leaflets, left stained on the straight path
and shallow steps fresh left with droplets of blood.

The White Doe is running, she knows they are coming,
she hears the horn calling,
The horse heavy footsteps, that tread in the wild grass
She flees down a new path.  

Exhausted and wounded, she lays in the forest,  
shortly he finds her, the horn he's brought high  
but hearing her soft sigh, and look at the white doe.
he lowers the horn let's it fall at his side.

“What folly was told us, that you were a stag
seen roaming the woodland, we left then to hunt.
Here gentle white dearling , If you let me closer,
I'll tend to your wound, and I'll right this affront.”

The White Doe is stilling she knows he is coming
she hears his voice calling
The boot heavy footsteps, that tread in the wild grass
and follows a new path.

He came to the white doe, and bandaged her cut leg,
He lifted her high, to his saddle and steed
then up leapt behind her to turn them back homeward
and join with his kin where they split in the reed.

He sounds out the hunting horn, keeps heading south
his father and brother soon ride through the loam,
But both are quite shaken when they see their kinsman
who carried the white doe alive to their home.

The White Doe is stilling she knows he is coming
she hears his voice calling
The boot heavy footsteps, that tread in the wild grass
and follows a new path.

With patience and caring, he tends to her healing
and pens her with him in his own stronghold keep
but she cannot stay while the light is upon her,
and come full moons rise she escapes while he sleeps

Her heartbeat is pounding, she must keep on running
out into the greenwood, it pulls at her now
No wall can contain her, no chain keep her from there
a promise she broke and the price of a vow.

The White Doe is stilling she knows he is coming
she hears his voice calling
The boot heavy footsteps, that tread in the wild grass
and follows a new path.

Her footsteps are sure but her ground is uneven
and time hasn't passed long since she had been held
she trips down an old trail, and limps to the river,
that flows twix her glade to the keep where he dwelled.

His voice getting louder, he's sure now to find her
she waits for him there by the cold streamlet flow.
He jumps from his own horse and gently walks to her
so quiet he walks softly forward and slow

The White Doe is stilling she knows he is coming
she hears his voice calling
The boot heavy footsteps, that tread in the wild grass
and follows a new path.

“Be still now, my dearling, I've come only shortly
to take off the last of the salves from your wound.”
He took up her leg and unwrapped all the binding,
and all the while softly he sang and he crooned

He knew he must leave her, back to that green forest
where wild run the dear through the bracken and merle
but for his last farewell he gave her a kiss.
And the moonlight engulfed them all fast in a whirl

The White Doe is stilling she knows he is coming
she hears his voice calling
The boot heavy footsteps, that tread in the wild grass
and follows a new path.

Now lay their a fair maid, all gowned in fine silk
her hair soft around her as white as moonlight
and sitting before her a young gentle huntsman
whose breath was fast stolen by shock and delight.

The two left together, there out of the woodland's
and back to the keep she returns by her will.
her light hearted air and his gentle hand guiding
the two came together and live out there still.