These are my songs based on modern tunes. Songs using older tunes are on the Songs page (they're "contrefait", a period practice), along with all songs with original tunes, whether or not they are filky in nature.

Viking Girl

Rudesby, Begone!

When I Was a Lad

Cleftlands Foreign Legion Battle Song

Autocrat of Baron Wars

Have Yourself an SCAish Christmas

Iamb, I Said

The Midrealm U Fight Song



Viking Girl

Countess Noelle la Chauciere came up with the idea for this filk, a celebration of a series of Viking reigns (ultimately three in a row: Lutr and Tessa, Ullr and AnnaLyse, Eikbrandr and Runa) and she and I collaborated on it. She sings the Freya part, I sing the Thor part, and the Eik-ettes have included Juliane Bechaumpe, Tyzes "Zsof" Sofia, and Lyonnete Vibert. We conceal our lyric cheat sheets in mockups of Viking magazines: Erique the Redbook ("Can This Handfasting Be Saved?"), Fjord and Stream ("Berserker Pee as a Vandal Deterrent"), Raven Beat ("Snorri Sturlusson Answers All Your Love Questions"), and the Viketoria's Secret catalog ("The Miracle Breastplate - Cleavage AND Spear Deflection").

First performed at a Yuletide dessert revel in the Cleftlands, December 17, 2008.

Lyrics: Noelle la Chauciere and Llywelyn Glyndwr
Tune: Barbie Girl (verse structure adapted) (note that the location on YouTube has changed since I first posted this, and the new location may include an introductory ad. Sorry.)

(Thor is drumming a sad funeral beat, leading a group of captive maidens wailing and crooning the fanfare from "The Vikings"; they see Freya and the beat picks up)

Freya Hi, Thor!
Thor Hi, Freya!
Freya I'm going out tonight.  Wanna pillage with me?
Thor Well ... I was going to Berserker practice, but ... Okay!
Both Ha ha ha ha!
Freya I’m a Viking girl, in a Viking world,
  With apron dresses, and a beaded necklace.
  I love ear wax spoons, leg wraps make me swoon.
  I'll beat your score at - Viking tug of war!
Eik-ettes Hey there, my kings, let's go viking.
Thor I’m a Viking boy, Berserking is my joy.
  I like to pillage a helpless village.
  Picking up some things, spreading Viking genes.
  When I go shopping, Celtics get a whopping.
Eik-ettes Hey Eikbrandr, Picts are blander.
Freya (ah ah ah yeah)
Eik-ettes Hey, there, Runa, Franks are gooners.
Thor (oo-oo-ooh, oo-oo-ooh)
Eik-ettes Hey Eikbrandr, war commander.
Freya (ah ah ah yeah)
Eik-ettes Hey, there, Runa, num'ro una.
Thor (oo-oo-ooh, oo-oo-ooh)
Freya I'm a bleachy blonde girl in a Valkyrie world,
  And my dad doesn't mind when I'm dating.
  I've got muscles of iron, a spearhead to match,
  And my bra is made out of steel plating.
Thor We can loot, we can ransack,
Freya We can eat some lutefisk.
Eik-ettes Hey there Ullr, Celts are droolers.
Freya (ah ah ah, yeah)
Eik-ettes Heya Nollies (Hey Annalyse), Danes aim to please.
Thor (oo-oo-ooh, oo-oo-ooh)
Eik-ettes Hey there Ullr, Swedes are crueler.
Freya (ah ah ah, yeah)
Eik-ettes Heya Nollies (Hey Annalyse), no more peace please.
Thor (oo-oo-ooh, oo-oo-ooh)
Freya I’m a Viking girl, in a saga whirl.
  I don't read runes, just like the tunes.
  Awaiting Ragnorok in my inkled socks,
  I like the Edda but Beowulf is better
Eik-ettes Hey there Tessa, Welsh oppressor.
Freya (ah ah ah, yeah)
Eik-ettes Hey there Lutr, Danes are cuter.
Thor (oo-oo-ooh, oo-oo-ooh)
Eik-ettes Hey there Tessa, natty dresser.
Freya (ah ah ah, yeah)
Eik-ettes Hey there Lutr, buns of pewter.
Thor (oo-oo-ooh, oo-oo-ooh)
Thor and Freya We can loot, we can plunder,
  We can make the English bleed,
  Put the Moors six feet under,
  And then knock back a mead.
  We are Viking teens under Viking Queens,
  With brassy armrings, lotsa amber bling.
  Viking kings are cool, they're terri-bull-ly cruel.
  Now-it's-been three reigns, driving me insa-a-ane.
Freya Oh, Thor, I'm having so much fun!
Thor We haven't begun to slaughter!
Freya I love being a Viking!


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Rudesby, Begone!

In Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, when Countess Olivia dismisses the drunken Sir Toby, she cries out "Rudesby, begone!"

Tune: Ruby, Don't Take Your Love To Town

You stand before the circle with the crowd at your command,
But every word convinces us your singing should be banned.
It's off-key and off-color - you've offended sev'ral peers ...
Oh, Rudesby, you've bored us all to tears.

You've filked on "Free Bird" to create a mournful hymn of war:
The audience weeps for the oath of courtesy they swore.
The army's heard your battle cry: they want to throw the fight.
Oh, Rudesby, it's time to say good night.

You've tested our indulgence with a mountain of cliches,
With unintended humor in your wretched turns of phrase,
And aimless allegories that you poured out by the quart.
Oh, Rudesby, it's past time to abort.

You've turned a magic night into an egocentric hell.
We're taking bets on whether verse nineteen will sound the knell.
The partiers around us are now welcoming the dawn
Oh, Rudesby, we beg you to move on.

Oh, Rudesby, for God's sake, just begone.

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When I Was a Lad

During the reign of Radagaisus and Ceinwen (2010), the Middle Kingdom rapier community was styled the Midrealm Navy, and Sir Pellinore, General of the Army, was also given the title Admiral of the Navy. Apologies to him for the invented biography. Published in the Midrealm newsletter, The Pale, September, 2010.

Tune: When I Was a Lad Note that I haven't found a free (legal) online recording, but the address given will lead you to the score and multiple recordings for purchase.

When I was a lad I watched Errol Flynn
As he picked the Sheriff's pockets with a merry grin.
So I stole from the rich and I gave to the broke,
And I hid in Sherwood Forest in a leaf-green cloak.
CHORUS. — And he hid, etc.
I fought King John so assiduouslee
That now I am the Ruler of the Mid's Navee!
. — He fought, etc.

My dreams of Robin and his men gave birth
To a hank'ring for the hobbits of the Middle Earth.
I trudged through the mountains and dispatched the Orc,
And wore a pleather jerkin and a plastic torc.
CHORUS. — And he wore, etc.
I stood my ground and I'd never flee,
So now I am the Ruler of the Mid's Navee!
CHORUS. — He stood, etc.

When at 15 years I got a game console,
I discovered World of Warcraft and I played Darkfall;
I ran up massive phone bills and my avatar
Had a broadsword and a warboard and morningstar.
CHORUS. — Had a broadsword, etc.
That morningstar did I swing so free,
That now I am the Ruler of the Mid's Navee!
CHORUS. — That morningstar, etc.

With maturity, gaming was passe,
But I chanced on rattan fighting in the S-C-A.
I slogged through the mud of the Pennsic field,
And I suffered several bruises that have never healed.
CHORUS. — And he suffered, etc.
I became so adept at the ground mee-lee,
That now I am the Ruler of the Mid's Navee!
CHORUS. — He became, etc.

Now landsmen all, whoever you may be,
If you want to rise up to the top of the tree,
If you fight in the dirt and and the mud with joy,
Be careful to be guided by this clever ploy -
CHORUS. — Be careful, etc.
Stick close to the army and never go to sea,
And you all may be rulers of the Mid's Navee!
CHORUS. — Stick close, etc.

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Cleftlands Foreign Legion Battle Song

The Barony of the Cleftlands has a number of friends living in foreign parts who still fight with the Cleftlands unit. At Pennsic 39, our Baron and Baroness (Edward and Milesent) designated them The Cleftlands Foreign Legion.

Tune: La Marseillaise

Allons, Légion Cleftlands Etrangère:
Le soup du jour est bouilliabaisse.
Entre nous, tenez la derrière,
La rapport Milesent St. Tropez,
La rapport Milesent St. Tropez,
Et l'amour d'Edward est montagne!
Fromage et pommes frite a la reine;
Ou sont la salle de les bains?
Port Salut aux l'automne compagnes!

Armoires, Citröens!
Fermez la bouche Bayonne!
Bon Marché! Target!
Plume de ma tante!
Cherchez les femmes toujours!

For the non-Francophones, here is a loose translation:

Let us go, Cleftlands Foreign Legion:
The taste of glory is like a rich broth.
Among us the devil may take the hindmost,
For Milesent's empathy is a respite,
And Edward's armour is very strong.
Let us feast like royalty on our enemies;
Where is your courage to sally forth?
A salute to our fallen companions!

To arms! Citizens!
Spring the trap (with spiky metal jaws)!
March well! To the goal!
They will write of our glory! (as we)
Forever seek victory!

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Autocrat of Baron Wars

Baron Wars has traditionally been held at Fort Meigs in Perrysburg, Ohio. The combination of State Park, historical monument, urban locale and, I suspect, the temperament of the autocrats, made the event website a welter of rules and regulations. First presented at the Baron Wars "adult" bardic circle, May 10, 2008 - back when the event was held in the monsoon season, a herd of sheep seemed to reside next door, Doctor Kevorkian was still alive and active, and the site rules seemed to cover a couple pages of the site booklet.

Tune: Modern Major General

(Opening banter: I was looking at the event website, and ... there are a LOT of rules. It must be hard running an event in a historical State Park in the middle of a city. But I think I'm up to the job.)

I am the very model of an autocrat of Baron Wars -
I like to keep things tidier than other men would care in wars.
The rules are set in place for the preserving of state parkiness,
Although a rule or two OR TEN! appeases my monarchiness.
The wetness that you note is since the site is quite discreetly damp;
By Sunday morning you'll be wringing wet and quite completely damp.
To drink a bev'rage freely is to exercise futility.
No merchant space reserved unless you fake a disability.
               Chorus: No merchant space ... etc.
Many surly Perrysburgers live in this vicinity,
So Quiet, Temp'rance, Tidiness, comprise a holy trinity,
And since I keep things tidier than other men would care in wars,
I am the very model of an autocrat of Baron Wars.
               Chorus: And since he keeps ... etc.

The populace of Midrealm need a certain dose of tyranny:
I'd really rather not be forced to have to disappear any.
Choose ultra-quiet camping only if you want to sleep a bit;
Don't wander too far off though or you'll share space with a sheep a bit.
Please tidy up the Boar's Head if you vomit on the clean counters,
And try to curry favor with the art and science bean counters.
Come early to get camping space, or find out if your squire would.
The INS is checking for illegal alien firewood.
               Chorus: The INs is checking ... etc.
We're trying to prevent the spread of Emeralds Ashborkean,
And violators will receive a visit from Kevorkian.
So since I keep things tidier than other men would care in wars,
I am the very model of an autocrat of Baron Wars.
               Chorus: And since he keeps ... etc.

Though many battles happened in this 1812 locality,
Disturbing weedy patches will be punished with fatality.
Obey the traffic wardens else you'll leave unsightly tire pits.
No open flames allowed except in levitating fire pits.
In the rapier blockhouse brawl no fighting on the staircases.
Hound Coursing will continue only in extremely rare cases.
Loud and quiet bards will find we practice segregation here.
There's absolutely positively NOOOOO ... pre-registration here.
               Chorus: There's absolutely positively   ... etc.
And though time on the rack might leave you slightly two dimensional,
Auto-de-fe's and thumbscrews are Geneva unConventional.
So since I keep things tidier than other men would care in wars,
I am the very model of an autocrat of Baron Wars.
               Chorus: And since he keeps ... etc.

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Have Yourself an SCAish Christmas

I'm not a Culture Wars exponent, but it is amusing ... Written December, 2008.

Tune: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (if someone knows an appropriate link, let me know)

Have yourself an S-C-A-ish Christmas,
... But without the "Christ":
Our Society's completely secularized.

Have yourself an S-C-A-ish Christmas:
Keep religion out.
That's just not what ancient Europe was about.

Mistletoe is from Druid lore;
Use the fluid lore of Greece;
Decorations Pacifica
Look terrific a-top trees!

When you keep the Christmas out of Christmas
No one has a row.
SCAdians all frown on fighting anyhow.
So have yourself an S-C-A-ish Christmas now.

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Iamb, I Said

Written for the Bardic Madness X, November 22, 2008, challenge: "A Teaching Song".

Tune: Do-Re-Mi (Do, a Deer)

(Hit the stage as the jolliest, sweetest Maria Von Trapp ever; plummy British accent)

(spoken:)  Hello, children (i.e., the first row of the audience).  Today we're going to talk about poetry.  Would you like that?  I knew you'd like it, Dirndl.  Schmatte, quiet down now.

Let's start at the very beginning -
A very good place to start.
If you don't want your poem with gaffes replete
You should start out by learning met-ric-feet.

(children) Met-ric-feet

(Maria) Met-ric-feet
To write a good poem you must know the beat -

(children) Met-ric-feet

(Maria) I-amb-tro-chee-an-a-pest-dac ...

(spoken:) Oh, let's see if I can make it easier

iAMB - is Unstressed then one Stressed.
TROchee - Stressed and then one Un.
an-a-PEST - two Un, one Stressed.
DAC-tyllic is Stressed Un Un.
SPON-DEE - two Stressed in a row.
pyhr-ric - two Unstressed you know.
am-PHI-brach - Un then Stressed then Un.
And that brings us up to Meter!

Monometer - one metric foot.
Dimeter - is simply two.
Trimeter - is three footsies.
Tetrameter - ... you're getting the idea ...
Pentameter - is Marlowe's mighty line.
Hexameter - an alexand(e)rine.
Heptameter - no one uses that ...
And that brings us on to ...

(on the high "Do:)  ... a feminist interpretation of Sheldrake's theory of self-actualization in Chaucer's Wif of Bath's tale ...

(spoken:)  ... But perhaps that's a subject for tomorrow's class.

(Hand out songsheets to "children")

(spoken:)  Now you sing it.  (Help out with the singing for the first verse, enjoying hugely their childlike mistakes and encouraging them:  "Excellent, Dredel!"; "You know better than that, Liederhosen!")

(As the "children" reach the Pentameter line in the second verse, add the "When-you-know-the-notes-to-sing" counterpoint:)

Eng-lish - ma-jors - eat - Dog - Chow.
Get - your - M - B - A - right - now!

(For the "Do-re-mi-fa-sol-la-ti-do" finale:)

I-am-bic pen-ta-me-ter rules!

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The Midrealm U Fight Song

Because the A&S community is always left out when the battle songs are written. First presented at the Fifth Known World Bardic Congress and Cooks Collegium, November 7, 2008, for the "SCAtrocity" challenge.

Tune: (Fight the Team) Across the Field (The Ohio State University Fight Song)

We're the Fightin' A and S
From dear old Midrealm U.
We can write the books we reference,
And we'll bind them too!
Write!  Write!  Write!
Alchemists, alembics in fists!
Let's all galliard right down the lists!
Write!  Write!  And don't digress,
And we'll win one for A and S!

Write sublime lines:
Keep the language terse!
Chart those timelines!
The judges never curse!
And whining only makes it worse ...

Never rest upon your Laurels;
Let them rest on you.
Research bravely, footnote fiercely ...
Biblios count, too.
Cite! Cite! Cite!
Come on, boys, let's kiss hands with verve!
Inkle-loomers, don't lose your nerve!
Gild!  Scribe!  Mirab'le dictu!
So let's win one for Midrealm U!

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