The Scotsman ~ Bryan Bowers & Seamus O'Kennedy

The Scotsman

Lyrics & Music: Bryan Bowers
Last 2 verses by Seamus O'Kennedy

A Scotsman clad in kilt left a bar one evening fair,
And one could tell by how he walked he'd drunk more than his share.
He fumbled 'round until he could no longer keep his feet
Then he stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street.
Ring ding diddle iddle i dee o, ring di diddle di o
He stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street.

Now around that time two young and lovely girls just happened by
And one said to the other with a twinkle in her eye.
"See yon sleeping Scotsman so strong and handsome built?
I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath their kilt."
Ring ding diddle iddle i dee o, ring di diddle di o
"I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath their kilt."

They crept up on the sleeping Scotsman quiet as could be,
And lifted up his kilt about an inch so they could see.
And there, behold, for them to view beneath his Scottish skirt
T'was nothin' more than God had graced him with upon his birth.
Ring ding diddle iddle i dee o, ring di diddle di o
T’was nothin' more than God had graced him with upon his birth.

They marveled for a moment then one said "We must be gone.
Lets leave a present for our friend before we move along.
"For a gift they left a blue silk ribbon tied into a bow
Around the bonny star the Scot's kilt did lift and show.
Ring ding diddle iddle i dee o, ring di diddle di o
Around the bonny star the Scot's kilt did lift and show.

The Scotsman woke to nature's call and stumbled for the trees.
And behind a bush he lifts his kilt and gawks at what he sees.
And in a startled voice he cries to what's before his eyes
"Ach, lad I don't know where ya' been, but I see ya' won first prize!"
Ring ding diddle iddle i dee o, ring di diddle di o
"Ach, lad I don't know where ya' been, but I see ya' won first prize!"

Our Scottish friend, still clad in kilt continued down the street.
And he hadn't gone a mile before a girl he chanced to meet
She said "I heard what's under there, tell me is it so?"
He said "Just slip your hand up miss if you'd really like to know."
Ring ding diddle iddle i dee o, ring di diddle di o
He said "Just slip your hand up miss if you'd really like to know."

She slipped her hand up under his kilt and much to her surprise
The Scotsman smiled and a very strange look came into his eyes.
She said "Oh, Sir, that's gruesome!" and then she heard him roar
"If you slip your hand up once again you'll find it's grew some more!"
Ring ding diddle iddle i dee o, ring di diddle di o
"If you slip your hand up once again you'll find it grew some more!

Thank you David for singing this to us >.<

Do Virgins Taste Better?~ R. Farren

Heard this at Sealion and had to find it for everyone who couldn't make it! >.<

DO VIRGINS TASTE BETTER?
(Also known as - An Old Cliché Revisited)
-R. Farran
(Tune: "The Irish Washerwoman")

A dragon has come to our village today.
We've asked him to leave, but he won't go away.
Now he's talked to our king and they worked out a deal.
No homes will he burn and no crops will he steal.

Now there is but one catch, we dislike it a bunch.
Twice a year he invites him a virgin to lunch.
Well, we've no other choice, so the deal we'll respect.
But we can't help but wonder and pause to reflect.

CHORUS: Do virgins taste better than those who are not?
Are they salty, or sweeter, more juicy or what?
Do you savor them slowly?  Gulp them down on the spot?
Do virgins taste better than those who are not?

Now we'd like to be shed of you, and many have tried.
But no one can get thru your thick scaly hide.
We hope that some day, some brave knight will come by.
'Cause we can't wait around 'til you're too fat to fly.

Now you have such good taste in your women for sure,
They always are pretty, they always are pure.
But your notion of dining, it makes us all flinch,
For your favorite entree is barbecued wench.

CHORUS

Now we've found a solution, it works out so neat,
If you insist on nothing but virgins to eat.
No more will our number ever grow small,
We'll simply make sure there's no virgins at all!

CHORUS







 DRAGON'S RETORT
(C) 1985 by Claire Stephens
(Tune: "Irish Washerwoman")

Well, now I am a dragon please listen to me
For I'm misunderstood to a dreadful degree
This ecology needs me, and I know my place,
But I'm fighting extinction with all of my race

But I came to this village to better my health
Which is shockingly poor despite all my wealth
But I get no assistance and no sympathy,
Just impertinent questioning shouted at me.


CHORUS: Yes, virgins taste better than those who are not
But my favorite snack food with peril is fraught
For my teeth will decay and my trim go to pot
Yes, virgins taste better than those who are not

Now we worms are deep thinkers, at science we shine
And our world's complicated with every new line
We must quit all the things that we've done since the flood
Like lying on gold couches that poison our blood

Well I'm really quite good almost all of the year
Vegetarian ways are now mine out of fear
But a birthday needs sweets I'm sure you'll agree
And barbecued wench tastes like candy to me

CHORUS

As it happens our interests are almost the same
For I'm really quite skillful at managing game
If I messed with your men would your excess decline?
Of course not, the rest would just make better time

But the number of babies a woman can bear
Has a limit and that's why my pruning's done there
Yet an orphan's a sad sight, and so when I munch
I'm careful to take out only virgins for lunch.

CHORUS

The Apprentice's Lament~ Master Hector of the Black Height

The Apprentice's Lament
Master Hector of the Black Height

I served me a Laurel for many a year,
I carded much wool and I brewed skunky beer
But now there’s my Peer lying dead on the floor
And I never shall be an apprentice no more.

CHORUS:

And it’s no, nay, never (cite me a source!),
No, nay, never, no more shall I be an apprentice,
No never, no more.


My Laurel took me to a special event;
My last two years’ projects to judging were sent.
They asked me for documents, I told them nay,
“I’ve not tried to research since my high school days.”
And it’s no, nay, never…


I pulled out thick binders with copies to spare;
I showed them my primary source for yak hair.
I answered their questions with footnotes galore,
I boggled their minds and left jaws on the floor.
And it’s no, nay, never…


I won the Queen’s praises and took the first prize,
My Laurel said “WHAT?” and dropped dead from surprise.
So now I am free, with no Peer to inspire:
I hate to wash cars so I can’t be a squire
And it’s no, nay, never (cite me a source!),
No, nay, never, no more shall I be an apprentice,
No never, no more.

To the Tune The Wild Rover!

The Celt Came Back

The Celt came Back
Anonymous
Tune: The Cat came Back


Now one old King had troubles of his own,
He had a thick-skinned Bard that wouldn’t leave his home
He tried and he tried to send that Bard away
He sold him to a Dane going far, far away…

(Chorus)

But the Celt came back, the very next day
The Celt came back; they thought he was a goner
But the Celt came back, he just wouldn’t stay away!


The local Baron said that he would shoot that Celt on sight
So he loaded up his cannon with powder to the sight
He waited and he waited for that Bard to come around,
Itty-bitty pieces of the castle’s all they found…

He gave him to a Visigoth going out East
Saying “Sell him to the Mongols; feed him to a Beast!”
They got up to the channel, and they thought they’d get across
Tomorrow they’ll write off the ‘Goth as bein’ a total loss…






He gave him to a serf with a ten-shilling note
Take him out on the lake, take him on a boat!
They tied a rock around his neck; it must have weighed 10 stone
And now they drag the shoreline,  ‘cause the boat came back alone…

The sent him to the Borgia’s to have a little feast
Kill him off with poisoned wine, use cyanide at least
He drank several barrels of the poisoned wine that day
And now the Borgias have all…passed away….

He gave him to a Knight, to use him for a pell
Saying “Beat him smartly, I wanna hear him yell!”
The knight armored up, and sharpened up his sword
No one’s ever hear again of that Knightly lord…

*They gave him to a Pelican, to work him to the bone
Make him wash the dishes, never to come home
She chained him to the kitchen sink,  stacked him up real mean
The Pelican was ne’er seen again, but at least…the kitchen’s clean…

*He gave him to a Laurel, apprentice for to be
Teach him silent arts like Norse Calligraphy
Teaching him to read & write, she made her last mistake
Printing up his music was more than they could take….

The Worm Song ~ Taliesin

The Worm Song (High among the Heather)

By Taliesin, to the tune of The Blacksmith

Baroness Finn, Stowe on the Road, Kingdom of Lochac

A worm he met a lark, high among the heather

The lark said to the worm, “Let us talk together.”

And she sang so sweet and clear, with her voice so tender

And the lark she killed the worm, high among the heather.

The lark she met a hawk, of the shiny feather

The hawk said to the lark, “Let us fly together.”

And they flew so high on the wind, as they soared in splendor

And the hawk he killed the lark, high above the heather.

The hawk he met a fox, and he looked so clever

The fox said to the hawk, let us dine together

So the hawk flew down to the ground, as a bird should never

And the fox he killed the hawk, high among the heather.

The fox he met a man, with fine boots of leather

The man said to the fox, “Let us run together”

“You have fine fur.” Said the man, “Warm in cold weather.”

And he killed the fox as they ran, high among the heather.

The man he told a Thief of his trick so clever

“That is fine fur,” Said the Thief, “And fine boots of leather.”

And he killed the man, with his knife, there among the heather

And the worm said to the man, “Let us lie together”

And the worm said to the man, “Let us lie together”

Tale of the unheralded Herald ~ Justin Eiler

 Seems once there was a Herald
He’d stood too long in the sun.
He went to an SCA event
To have a little fun
Said Herald brought a guitar
With which he sang this rant
“Who says that Heralds cannot pun?
But they can only Cant!”

He found a quiet corner
Near a Bardic Circle’s beat.
He stood up in his great big boots
(And that was no small feat)
He played and sang most pun-ishly
And did so night and day
And yet with all his singing,
He did not shout “Oyez!”

His lyrics – they were lousy
His tune – well it was worse
His language was most vile and foul
And moreso every verse!
He kept up with his singing
Until the King’s Guard came
They told him “You must come with us
This in the Queen’s own name.”

They brought the punning Herald
To the Queen’s pavilion nigh
He bowed unto Her Majesty
And saw wrath in Her eye.
She said, “You do offend me
With the verses that you sing.
Go ye, and pun nevermore
Or from a yardarm swing.”

The sweating Herald left her
And his heart was beating fast.
He was wont to make more jokes
But his next, it was his Last!
The Guard said, “If you want to live
No more of the songs you sang.”
The he said, “No noose is good news….”
And smiling he was hanged!

Coridon's Song ~ Old English Songs and Other Sources.

This was found in Mrs. Dufners book on old english poetry. I found some music for it to and in looks like a fun one. 

Coridons Song

 

the sweet contentment 
'The countryman doth find ! 
Heigh trolollie lollie loe, 
Heigh trolollie lollie lee. 
That quiet contemplation 
Posesseth all my mind; 
Then care away, 
And wend along with me.

For Courts are full of flattery 
As hath too oft been tried; 
Heigh trolollie lollie loe, 
Heigh trolollie lollie lee. 
'The city full of wantonness, 
And both are full of pride : 
'Then care away, 
And wend along with me. 

But oh ! the honest countryman 
Speaks truly from his heart ; 
Heigh trolollie lollie loe, 
Heigh trolollie lollie lee. 

His pride is in his tillage, 
His horses and his cart ; 
'Then care away, 
And wend along with me. 

Our clothing is good sheep-skins, 
Grey russet for our wives ; 

Heigh trolollie lollie he, 
Heigh trolollie lollie lee. 
'Tis warmth, and not gay clothing, 
'That doth prolong our lives ; 
Then care away, 
And wend along with me. 

The ploughman, though he labour hard, 
Yet on the holy-day, 
Heigh trolollie lollie loe, 
Heigh trolollie lollie lee. 
No emperor so merrily 
Doth pass his time away ; 
'Then care away, 
And wend along with me. 

'To recompense our tillage, 
The heavens afford us showers ; 
Heigh trolollie lollie loe, 
Heigh trolollie lollie lee. 
And for our sweet refreshments 
The earth affords us bowers ; 
Then care away, 
And wend along with me. 

'The cuckoo and the nightingale 
Full merrily do sing, 
Heigh trolollie lollie loe, 
Heigh trolollie lollie lee. 
And with their pleasant roundelays 
Bid welcome to the spring ; 
Then care away, 
And wend along with me. 

is not half the happiness 
The countryman enjoys ; 

Heigh trolollie lollie loe, 
Heigh trolollie lollie lee. 

Though others think they have as much, 

Yet he that says so lies ; 
Then come away, turn 
Countryman with me.