minstrel: looking for a song

Rex Deaver rdeaver at swbell.net
Wed Sep 17 18:15:13 PDT 1997

At 12:19 AM 9/17/97 -0400, Alexandria Long wrote:
>At Pennsic I met a gentle who sang a Calontir song that I'd love the words
>to. Something about a barbarian king, pawning the crown, if I'm good in
>another six months I can do it all over again, there's a $90 site fee and
>guess who owns the site....
>ring any bells?

This thing is rife with Calontirisms, not all of which I know.


*Brom's Reign*
(tune: Lincoln Park Pirates)

Well the feast's done and evening is falling,
An the air it is charged with fear.
The BoD it is sleeping; the witan is weeping:
"Oh God, please save poor Calontir!"
And the populous is in a ruckus,
And many of them have fled,
And they're all crying, "He's gonna fuck us,"
"Once they put that damn crown on his head."

Do me wey hey, O you'll rue the day,
A barbaric bastard like me
Did show up to fight, here where might still makes right;
O just stick around and you'll see.
Do me wey hey, I'll go all the way
In plundering poor Calontir.
You pissed me off royal, and made my blood boil;
Now you'll see just what I hold dear.

First I'll get to your treasury's money,
That money you've worked for so hard.
And I'll piss it away on our new defense budget;
In other words swords for my guard.
And I think that rattan is for pussies;
>From now on we'll only use steel.
And to keep every fight from lasting an hour
I'm also outlawing the shield.

And the feasting will be done at Arby's
'Till the manager's countenance sours.
Then I'll hold drunken court in the basement of Steelholm,
And make sure it goes on for hours. (and hours, and hours....)
To the fighters give rubberband crossbows,
To the poets give crackerjack rings.
But I'll give Uncle Stephen a Pelican
'Cause I like the way the man sings. ( hit a sour note on "sings")

I'll send letters to various kingdoms;
Call the kings perverts and the queens whores.
There's a twenty dollar site fee this year, boys;
Guess who owns the site for the war!
'Ere the battle starts I'll twist my ankle,
And I'll sit on the side and drink beer.
And make book on the odds for that novice,
The dumbfuck who borrowed my gear.

(Slowly, mournfully)
And when my reign's finally over,
And the time's come for me to step down,
Your next sucker won't look so regal,
Since I went and pawned off the crown!
Now, I've stepped down six thousand bucks richer
Though it's cost me a couple of friends.
But they say if I'm good for another six months
(Happy again)
I can come back and do it again!

Rex Deaver (SCA Mathurin Kerbusso) -- rdeaver at swbell.net
Why not light a candle AND curse the darkness?

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