AT THE WAR
-Rhys ap Baruch
(c) 1991, Ian Klinck
(Tune: "At the Hop")

   At the war!

   Well, you can swing and you can thrust
   And you can parry if you must
   At the war (war war war)
   When the swords start a-swingin'
   Then the helms start a-ringin'
   At the war (war war war)
   It's the fightin' sensation
   That's sweepin' the nation
   At the war

   CHORUS:
   Let's fight at the war
   Let's fight at the war (my lady!)
   Let's fight at the war (my lady!)
   Let's fight at the war
   Come on
   Let's fight at the war

   Well you can fight with stick and board
   And take on the whole Dark Horde
   At the war
   If you win each time you fight
   Then you might become a knight
   At the war
   Princes and kings
   All do their thing
   At the war

   CHORUS

   (repeat both verses)

   CHORUS



BOUND FOR PENNSIC
-Justin du Coeur (Mark Waks)
(Tune: "Banned From Argo")

  Oh, we pulled into Cooper's Lake, a-lookin' for the War,
  Then searched 'round for a camping space for sixteen tents or more;
  So we went to the autocrat, who looked up with a smile,
  "Okay," she said, "set them right there, in a fifty-foot-tall pile!"

      And we're bound for Pennsic, everyone;
      Yes, we're bound for Pennsic, just to have us a little fun.
      We're gonna have a battle there, for just three days or four,
      At Cooper's Lake, at the great Pennsic War.

  We had a mighty fighter, who was powerful indeed;
  He lacked only one skill: he never learned quite how to read.
  He died amongst the leeches from a tragical mistake;
  His tombstone reads: "Here lies a knight, consumed by Cooper's Lake".

  Our brewer loves to party; he's a gallivanter true, but
  He vanished Friday night, and we don't know what we should do:
  The Midrealm's claiming we're unfair at how we win our fights,
  With bottles flying out of trees and knocking out their knights!

  Now, Art went to the swimming hole, to cool off in the shade;
  A maid rose from the waters, and she gave to him a blade.
  So Arthur took the sword from her, but hasn't fought again --
  He's scared to be seen duelling with a weapon named "Smurfbane"...

  Our banner-bearer Bob's a loyal soldier, there's no doubt,
  But when he's in the woods, he doesn't know his North from South;
  We told him, "Guard the banner", but we didn't know the cost --
  We sent in in on Friday; it's now Sunday -- he's still lost.

  We are the finest in the East, a fighting band elite;
  Our knights are strong, our ladies fair, our scouts are fleet of feet;
  But now we're missing fourteen men, and nearly half our gear;
  Not bad, I guess -- we'll see if it's more interesting next year!



THE MUSKETEER'S SONG
-Tamara fitzGloustre of the White Boar
with additions by Ioseph of Locksley
-tune: "Mouseketeer's Song"

    Who's the leader of the troop that's made for me and thee?
    He who hands the muskets out: Good old King Louis!

    Zounds! Gadzooks! Well Met, Lads! Fill your tankards up with me!
    And toast His Grace who sets the pace: Good old King Louis!

    (Chorus): Musketeers! ( Cardinal's Guards! )
              Musketeers! ( Cardinal's Guards! )
              Forever we defend the Fleur-de-Lis!
                                  (Thrust! Parry! Thrust!)

    Bring a sword and spit a Lord who works for Du Plessis;
    Give a hand to Good Queen Anne, wife to King Louis!

    Cavaliers and Roundheads, sing this song along with me:
    Cheers for Athos, Porthos, D'Artagnan and Aramis!

    (Chorus)

    deBergerac had quite a knack, and so, m'lads, have we!
    So drink 'em down and set 'em up for good old King Louis!

    Sharpen up your rapiers and put on your foppery,
    And raise your voices to the skies and sing in harmony:

    (Chorus)

    (Slowly, with lechery:)

    Come you here, my pretty Maid, and sit upon my knee.........

    C-A-V ("V" is for VICTORY!)
    A-L-I (I'm for France! (or England, or Cromwell, or Myself...&c.)
    E--R--S!



WITH HER HEAD TUCKED UNDERNEATH HER ARM
-R.P. Weston and Bert Lee
(c) Copyright Francis Day & Hunter Ltd. 1934
-recorded by the Kingston Trio, et al.

(Intro):  In the Tower of London, large as life,
           The ghost of Anne Boleyn walks, they declare!
           Poor Anne Boleyn was once King Henry's wife,
           Until he made the Headsman bob her hair!
           Ah yes, he did her long, long years ago!
           And she comes back a night to tell him so!

           (CHORUS): With her head tucked underneath her arm
                     She walks the Bloody Tower!
                     With her head tucked underneath her arm
                     At the midnight hour!

   Through the dusty corridors for miles and miles she goes
   She often catches cold, poor thing, it's cold there when it blows
   And it's awfully awfully awkward for the Queen to blow her nose
   With her head tucked underneath her arm!

   CHORUS

   She's looking for King Henry and she'll give him what-for!
   Gadzooks! She's awfully mad at him for having spilled her gore!
   And just in case the Headsman wants to give her an encore...
   She's got her head tucked underneath her arm!

   CHORUS

   Once she met King Henry, he was in the Canteen Bar,
   He said "Are you Jane Seymor, Anne Bolyn or Katherine Parr?"
   "How in Heaven's name am I to know just who you are?
   With your head tucked underneath your arm !!!!!"

   Sometimes Good King Henry gives a spread
   For all his pals and gals, a ghastly crew!
   The Headsman carves the joint, and cuts the bread,
   Then in comes Anne Boleyn to queer the do!
   She holds her head up with a wild war-whoop!
   And Henry cries: "Don't drop it in the soup!"

    CHORUS



AIR FALALALO

        There's lilt in the song I sing, there's laughter and love
        There's tang of the sea, and blue from Heaven above!
        Of reason there's none; and why should there be, for why?
        As long as there's fire in the blood, and light in the eye!

        CHORUS: Air falalalo horo, air falalalay (3X)
                Falee, falo, horo, air falalalay!

        The heather's ablaze wi' bloom, the myrtle is sweet
        There's song in the air; the road's a song at our feet!
        So step it along as light as the bird on the wing!
        And, stepping along, let's join our voices and sing:

        And whether the blood be Highland, Lowland or no,
        And whether the hue be black or white as the snow;
        Of kith and of kin, we are One, be it right, be it wrong,
        If only our hearts beat true to the lilt of the song!




THE CELT CAME BACK
(Tune: "The Cat Came Back")

Now, one old King had troubles of his own
Had a thick-skinned bard that wouldn't leave 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!
        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 out on a boat!
They tied a rock around his neck, it must have weighed ten stone
And now they drag the shoreline, 'cause the boat came back..alone..

They 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 all 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 armoured up, and sharpened up his sword
No one's ever heard again of that knightly Lord....

The Greek Fire fell the other day
Lightning from Heaven in the very same way!
Egypt's gone, Greece is gone, Sumeria's gone, Rome is gone...
They've all passed away
The whole Ancient World crumbled into dust that day

CHORUS: But the Celts came back the very next day
Thought that they were goners, but the Celts came back
They just couldn't stay away!



CHIVALRY
-Morgana bro Morganwyg
(Tune: "Lemon Tree")

CHORUS: Chivalry, very pretty, and the ladies they are sweet
        But they find that the Mongols are impossible to beat!

   When I was just a lad of ten, my father said to me
   Come here and take a lesson from the belted Chivalry
   Don't put your trust in knights, my boy. my father said to me
   Come here and watch the Mongols kill the belted Chivalry!

   But when I grew, I fell in love and the lady said to me
   I think that I will keep my heart for the belted Chivalry
   I said that I'd become a knight as quick as quick can be
   The music of her laughter hid my father's words from me

   So off to Tourney I did go, a squire all belted red
   A rattan broadsword in my hand, a helmet on my head
   I stepped onto the tourney field, to fight so noble-lee
   Then a backhand blow from a knightly sword caved in my helm for me!

   They had to bear me from the field for I could hardly see
   But I could hear my lady wooing belted Chivalry!
   So if I ever love again, I know that you will see
   A girl who wants a Mongol love, not belted Chivalry!



A 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.
My brain's not full yet.  More?
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