| COME BY THE HILLS Come by the hills to the land where fancy is free And stand where the peaks meet the sky and the lochs meet the sea Where the rivers run clear and the bracken is gold in the sun Ah, the cares of to-morrow can wait 'til this day is done Oh, come by the hills to the land where life is a song And sing while the birds fill the air with their joy all day long Where the trees sway in time and even the wind sings in tune Ah, the cares of to-morrow can wait 'til this day is done Come by the hills to the land where legend re-mains Where stories of old fill the heart and may yet come a-gain Where our past has been lost and the future has still to be won Ah, the cares of to-morrow can wait 'til this day is done. The Brave and Bonny Host Words and music by Roger the Goliard Oh, see how the mist lies over the field; The morning of battle has come. Soft in the glen there's the muffled sound of men, And the murmur of a battle drum. Now the light of the sun spreads over the hill; It scatters the mist from the green, And there in the clear come the warriors of An Tir -- Their black and gold banner can be seen, Chorus: Fill our cups with ale or wine or beer, We will stand together never fear; And we'll drink down a toast to the Brave and Bonny host That fights for the banner of An Tir. Oh, see them advance as a wall of steel, Each man with his sword and his shield; Now they charge with a cheer, for the honour of An Tir, To win or to die upon the field. Chorus By many a fire there's a lady fair, Who waits for her love to return; Her needle's in her threads, or she's baking of the breads, And dreaming of the touch for which she yearns. Chorus To the crest of the hill fight the brave and the bold, Where the slain thickly lie on the field; Now alone in the clear stand the warriors of An Tir, And the foeman at last is forced to yield. Chorus Oh, strike up your lute, all ye minstrels, Whose skill is renowned far and wide; Come tell us again of the mighty band of men, Who carried the battle for our side. BANKS OF CLAUDY Traditional; arranged and adapted by Loreena McKennitt As I walked out one morning All in the month of May Down by a flowery garden I carelessly did stray I overheard a young maid In sorrow did complain, All for her absent lover Who plows the raging main. I boldly stepped up to her And put her in surprise. I know she did not know me I being in disguise. I says, "Me charming creature, My joy, my hearts delight, How far have you to travel This dark and dreary night?" "I'm in search of a faithless young man. Johnny is his name. And along the Banks of Claudy I'm told be does remain." "This is the Banks of Claudy Fair maid where on you stand. But don't depend on Johnny For he's a false young man. Oh don't depend on Johnny For he'll not meet you here. But tarry with me in yon green woods No danger need you fear Oh it's six long weeks or better Since Johnny left the shore He's crossing the wild ocean Where the foam and the billows roar He's crossing the wild ocean For honour and for fame. But this I�ve heard, the ship was wrecked All on the coast of Spain.� Oh it�s when she heard this dreadful news She flew into despair By the wringing of her milk-white hands And the tearing of her hair. Saying �If Johnny he is drowned No man on earth I�ll take But through lonesome groves and valleys I�ll wander for his sake.� Oh it�s when he saw her loyalty No longer could he stand He flew into her arms saying �Betsy, I�m the man.� Saying �Betsy I�m the young man, The cause of all your pain But since we�ve met on Claudy Banks We�ll never part again.� TEXT OF A LETTER TO DRACHENWALD (Words: Brynna of Aelfstanbury) (Tune: "My Bonny Lies Over The Ocean") My Lord We Have Great News To Tell You Too Wonderful Simply To Write While You've Been Away At The Crusades Your Lady's Been Learning to Fight Chorus: Oh Boy, Oh Boy, She's Learning to Handle a Sword, A Sword Oh Boy, Oh Boy, Oh What A Surprise For Her Lord It's True She's a Delicate Creature A Vision Of Sweetness And Light We Know That It's Hard To Believe, But Your Lady's Been Learning To Fight With A Sword Of Rattan Wrapped In Duct Tape In Armor And Helmet So Bright You'd Better Start Practicing Quickly Your Lady Is Learning To Fight So Polish Up Weapons And Armor And Hone Up Your Skills To Their Height And Say A Few Prayers While Your At It Your Lady Has Learned How To Fight So This Puts An End To Carousing No More You'll Go Wenching All Night We're Sorry For The Inconvienence But We've Taught Your Lady To Fight We Know That You May Not Believe It She Once Was So Timid And Meek But You'd Better Get Used To It Quickly Cause She Won Crown Tourney Last Week So We Thought We'd Send You A Letter And Spare You A Terrible Scene Of Returning At Last To Your Homeland To Find Out That You Are The Queen THE VALKYRIE SONG (Tune: Wagner's "Flight of the Valkyries") We fly through the night skies Flashing our fat thighs, Picking up dead guys; You call this a job? You take the blond guy, I'll take the redhead! Wait, he's not dead yet; Let him go . . . splat! Chorus: Woo-oop! Woo-oop! Woo-oop! Woo-oop! Woo-oop! Woo-oop! Woo-oop! Woo-oop! Oh-h-h-h-h-h! We're hunting the Wabbit! We're hunting the Wabbit! We're hunting the Wabbit! We're hunting the Wabbit! THE FRENCH JESUIT'S SONG -James Qui Connait (James Bristol) (Tune: "If I Only Had A Brain") I could while away the hours In dungeons and in towers Inflicting horrid pain. I would work the inquisition And enhance my own position If I only lived in Spain. I'd have hot irons and thumbscrews For heretics and the Jews; Confessions I'd obtain! Hear the sounds of chains a clinkin' At the stake a body's stinkin' If I only lived in Spain. I..could tell you why Torquemada's a fun guy I could make you cry to God on high, I've got a rack, on which you'd fry. I could help you see the reason The True Faith is so pleasin' And Heaven you could gain. I'd no longer chat "Vobiscum" I'd yank guts out, then I'd twist 'em If I only lived in Spain.... CIRCLES -Gwen Zak (Tune: "Windmills") In days gone by, when the world was much younger Men wondered at spring, born of winter's gold knife Wondered at the games of the moon and the sunlight, They saw there the Lady and Lord of all life. CHORUS: And around and around and around turns the good earth All things must change as the seasons go by, We are the children of the Lord and the Lady, Whose mysteries we know but we'll never know why. In all lands the people were tied with the good earth Plowing and sowing as the seasons declared Waiting to reap of the rich golden harvest Knowing Her laugh in the joys that they shared. Through Flanders and Wales and the green land of Ireland In Kingdoms of England and Scotland and Spain Circles grew up all along the wild coastline And worked for the land with the sun and the rain. Circles for healing and working the weather Circles for knowing the moon and the sun Circles for thanking the Lord and the Lady Circles for dancing the dance never done And we who reach for the stars in the heavens Turning our eyes from the meadows and groves Still live in the love of the Lord and the Lady The greater the Circle the more the love grows MATTY GROVES A holiday, a holiday, And the first one of the year Lord Donald's wife came into the church, The gospel for to hear. And when the meeting it was done She cast her eyes about, And there she saw little Matty Groves, Walking in the crowd. Come home with me little Matty Groves, Come home with me tonight, Come home with me little Matty Groves, And sleep with me till light. I can't come home, oh I won't come home, And sleep with you tonight, By the rings on your fingers I can tell, You are Lord Donald's wife. But if I am Lord Donald's wife Lord Donald's not at home, For he's out in the far corn field, He's bringing the yearlings home. And a servant who was standing by, And hearing what was said, He swore Lord Donald he would know Before the sun would set. And in his hurry to carry the news He bent his breast and ran, And when he got to the Broadmill stream He took off his shoes and swam. Little Matty Groves he lay down And took a little sleep, When he awoke Lord Donald Was standing at his feet. Saying how do you like my feather bed, And how do you like my sheets, How do you like my lady Who lies in your arms asleep? Oh well do I like your featherbed, And well I like your sheets, But better I like your lady fair Who lies in my arms asleep. Well get up, get up Lord Donald cried, Get up as quick as you can, Cause it'll never be said in fair England I slew a naked man. Oh I can't get up, I won't get up, I can't get up for my life, For you have two long breedin swords And I've not a pocketknife. Well it's true I have two breedin swords And they cost me deep in the purse, But you will have the better of them And I will have the worst. And you will strike the very first blow, And strike it like a man, I will strike the very next blow And I'll kill you if I can. So Matty struck the very first blow And he hurt Lord Donald sore, Lord Donald struck the very next blow, And Matty struck no more. And then Lord Donald he took his wife And he sat her on his knee, Saying who do you like the best of us, Dead Matty Groves or me? And then up spoke his own dear wife, And never heard to speak so free, I'd rather a kiss from dead Matty's lips Then you in your finery. Lord Donald he jumped up And loudly he did bawl, He struck his wife right through the heart And pinned her against the wall. A grave, a grave Lord Donald cried, To put these lovers in, But bury my lady at the top For she was of noble kin. ISN'T FIGHTING LOVERLY? -Stephen of Durham -Brendan O'Corraide All I want is a sword to wield, Coat of mail and a stout round shield. Someone to face upon the field, Oh, isn't fighting loverly? Nice round mace or a Viking axe, Balanced nicely for quick attacks. With weight enough to give hard whacks, Oh, isn't fighting loverly? Swinging combination head-and-leg, or mollinet, I would never have to yield, They'd never get past my shield. Someone's head ringing from a blow, Helm caved in 'cause he blocked too slow, Ask me to fight and I won't say no, Oh, isn't fighting loverly? Loverly, loverly, loverly, Isn't fighting loverly? ISN'T SWASHING LOVERLY? -Brendan O'Corraide -Marietta All I want is a feathered hat, High topped boots; Can you picture that? A lace trimmed shirt is where it's at, Oh, isn't swashing loverly? Cloak and rapier for me to wield, Duelling grandly upon the field. To heck with all this sword and shield, Oh, isn't swashing loverly? Who needs all of those nasty bruises and broken bones? Rapiers have more style and grace Than any old axe or mace. Cavaliers joining in the fray, That's the game I like to play, 'Cause swinging sticks is tres outre, Isn't swashing loverly? Loverly, loverly, loverly, Isn't swashing loverly? |