Zubeydah: Tivar Moondragon's Bardic Stuff

2021-05-11T17:53:34Z

Tivar Moondragon's Bardic Stuff

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==The Swashbuckling Game==
This song came and sat on my chest, saying "write me!" many years ago, when I still lived in the Barony of the Stargate (Houston.) A bit of historical note: it was written about my Cadet, Hans Durmast von der Wanderlust (usually called Dormouse) when he was seneschal of Raven's Fort, shortly before he got his White Scarf. 

(To the tune of "The Patriot Game.") 

Come all ye young bravos, and list while I sing 
For the love of adventure is a terrible thing 
It banishes sense and it drives you insane 
It'll make you a part of the Swashbuckling Game 

My name it is Dormouse, I've just gone nineteen 
My home is in Stargate, 'tis there I was weaned 
I was taught all my lifetime, Don Tivar to blame 
Because he invented the Swashbuckling Game 

I was just seventeen when I wandered away 
And went to a tourney of the bold SCA 
I'd read of D'Artagnan and I wanted the same 
To play out my part in the Swashbuckling Game 

Well they told me of Gilwell, and Tullamore Dew 
Of Robin and 'Licia and Gallowglass, too 
They gave me a red scarf, let me kill and maim 
They soon made me part of the Swashbuckling Game 

And now I'm Don Durmast, and a seneschal, too 
They think I'm important--I think I've been screwed 
They stuff me in teapots and make fun of my name 
And they're all out to kill me in the Swashbuckling Game 

==The Stick-Jocking Game==
Many years later, the beginnings of this little gem, I am not kidding, came to me in a dream. I managed to keep hold of enough of it when I woke up to write it down as well. It's about Don Christian Richard Dupre, and was written shortly after his knighting. He, too, was once my cadet
Also to the tune of "The Patriot Game.") 

Come all you young swashers, and list while I sing 
For the love of more fighting is a terrible thing 
It will bruise up your backside, and rattle your brain 
And make you a part of the stick-jocking game 

My name's Don Dupre, and I wear blue and gold 
In Bryn Gwlad country I was dashing and bold 
Yes I'd swashed all my life, but Don Tivar's to blame 
'Cause he didn't keep me from the stick-jocking game 

I was twenty years old when I wandered away 
To try heavy weapons in the bold SCA 
They told me my rapier was too thin to play 
With their broadswords and polearms in the stick-jocking game 

They gave me a helmet and took off my lace 
They beat on my thighs and my ribs and my face 
They gave me a broadsword, let me kill and maim 
And they soon made me part of the stick-jocking game 

So now I'm Sir Christian Richard Dupre too 
They think I'm important--I think I've been screwed 
'Cause when I'm not swashing they're calling my name 
To come out and play in the stick-jocking game 

==God Rest Ye Frantic Autocrat==
(With annotations. To the tune of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.") 

God rest ye frantic autocrat, let nothing you dismay 
Remember that your great event is still a month away 
Don't panic yet, there's lots of time and don't get swept away 

Chorus: And sing ye in chorus: "Never again, never again" 

And sing ye in chorus: "Never again" 

 
God rest ye frantic autocrat, let nothing you dismay 
Remember that your great event is still two weeks away 
The site is grand, though if it rains it just might wash away [1] 
(chorus) 

God rest ye frantic autocrat, let nothing you dismay 
Remember that your great event is still a week away 
The music's fine, if only they remember how to play [2] 
(chorus) 

God rest ye frantic autocrat, let nothing you dismay 
Remember that your great event is still three days away 
The feast is planned, the food's been bought, though God knows how you'll pay 
(chorus) 

God rest ye frantic autocrat, let nothing you dismay 
Despite the fact your great event is scheduled for today 
The tourney's grand, the rain won't last for very long, they say [3] 
(chorus) 

God rest ye frantic autocrat, let nothing you dismay 
Despite the fact that everything is going wrong today 
The King and Queen came, unannounced, and God knows who else may [4] 
(chorus) 

God rest ye frantic autocrat, let nothing you dismay 
The herald's lost his voice and he can't even cry "Oyez" [5] 
The list field's under water, [6] a tornado's on the way [7] 
(chorus) 

God rest ye frantic autocrat, let nothing you dismay 
The ants have eaten half the food and dragged your tent away [8] 
Some mundane called the cops, and they took all the knights away [9] 
(chorus) 

God rest ye frantic autocrat, let nothing you dismay 
It's getting cold, it just might snow, you'd better start to pray [10] 
The fire won't start, the food will spoil, so serve it anyway [11] 
(chorus) 

God rest ye frantic autocrat, let nothing you dismay 
The feast was grand, though half the court is dying of the plague [12] 
The revel would have been great, but the tavern blew away [13] 
(chorus) 

God rest ye frantic autocrat, you'd better run away 
The Queen is mad, her tent and King have both been washed away [14] 
It might be wise to change your name and quit the SCA 
(chorus) 

God rest ye frantic autocrat, now hide ye while ye may 
The gentry loved that damned event that ended yesterday 
They're asking for another one, the King hopes you'll obey 

Final chorus: And they're singing in chorus: "Do it again, do it again" 

They're singing in chorus: "Do it again" 
Notes: That last verse and chorus were added by Baron Vargskol Halfblood, the others are mostly based on things that actually happened during the early days of Ansteorra. 
Specifically... 
(1) Several sites used in the early days of the Barony of Bjornsborg (San Antonio) were in flood plains. 
(2) When I first joined, the local "Musicians' Guild" was pretty much anyone who brought an instrument and has some clue which end was which. Technical things like "rehearsals" were unknown. 
(3) This doesn't refer to any specific event, but we all know about events that were rained out. 
(4) At the first Baronial Court in Bryn Gwlad, the King and Queen did show up unannounced. Lots of unpleasant politics followed. 
(5) Again, no specific event, but we've probably all seen it happen. 
(6) At the third Ansteorran Coronet Tourney (held at one of those Bjornsborg flood-plain sites) a big thunderstorm came through Saturday night. First thing Sunday morning, the Park Police came in and told us we had an hour to clear the site before the low water crossing on the only road out would be flooded. After we all escaped, the final round of Coronet was fought in an empty field a couple of miles down the road. 
(7) At one of the early Steppes Warlord Tournaments (held on Memorial Day weekend near Dallas, and frequently hit by bad weather) a tornado touched down nearby, then, so the story goes, skipped directly over the list field. 
(8) Fire ants are a perennial problem in Ansteorra, but this is a bit of poetic license. 
(9) To the best of my knowledge, this has never actually happened, although cops stopping to check us out at Fighter Practice is a fairly common occurance. 
(10) Specifically referring to the Tournament of the Queen's Grace (generally known afterwards as "Queen's Ice") where the temperature dropped over 40 degrees between 10:00 AM and sunset on Saturday. It didn't quite snow, but it was certainly cold enough. 
(11) In the early days, cooking the evening's feast over a campfire or outdoor grill was fairly common. We had a few instances where the "cooking" was more wishful thinking than actual fact. 
(12) Cause-and-effect from the uncooked food. I've also heard of Pennsics where some kind of bug ended up taking out half the site or more. 
(13) More poetic license. While it was very windy at Queen's Ice, the tavern tent didn't quite blow away. 
(14) And a bit more poetic license. 

==Questing==
This one's on a bit more serious note. 

He’s got that questing look about his eyes 
And soon he will be going off again 
To seek a distant legend or some prize 
That hidden lies beyond all mortal ken 

The treasures that he sends to me are grand 
The ransom of a king in gems, and more 
There’s fifty gallant knights--mine to command 
Made captive in some tournament or war 

Perhaps he’ll send a rescued wizard, who 
Beguiles my empty hours with his sleights 
And once he sent a baby dragon, too 
To keep me warm on lonely winter nights 

But all these treasures I would gladly spend 
If I could, by some alchemy, devise 
A way to bring my sorrow to an end 
And take that questing look from my lord’s eyes 

 

==The Tale of Caradoc and the Monster==
This is based on an actual incident at an Ansteorran Kingdom Warlord Tournament in AS XVIII 

’Twas to the Warlord tournament 
In the Springtime of the year 
There came the valiant Caradoc 
The man who knew no fear 

He fought not on the field that day 
Though he watched with knowing eye 
For men were not his chosen foe, 
But monsters from the sky 

He revelled well that night, 'tis said 
And drank a toast or ten 
To our new warlord, and the King 
And all the fighting men 

And in the morning early 
He rose up from his bed 
And looked well to his weapons 
For he felt a nameless dread 

He went not to the lists that day 
Among the gala throng, 
Who watched the squires at battle-play 
And heard the minstrel’s song 

But rather stayed he in the camp 
And gazed with careful eye 
For he felt in his marrow 
There was something coming nigh 

And then it came! Oh dreadful sound 
That smote upon his ear 
The very sky was darkened 
But still he knew no fear 

He stood his ground, and challenges 
Rang forth into the air 
“Today’s the day you die, foul fiend 
Come, face me if you dare!” 

The monster turned, it would not face 
That brave and stalwart man 
But fled to the pavilion 
Of Mistress Shanahan 

Then trapped within those silken folds 
The monster turned at bay 
To battle forth strode Caradoc 
And did not flinch or stay 

No helm was there upon his head 
Upon his arm no shield 
With sword alone he took his stand 
Upon that silken field 

To face a deadly monster 
With venom-dripping sting 
And eyes of flame and tempest-blasts 
That sprang forth from its wings 

The battle joined, with steel and sting 
They played their deadly game 
The speed of either one would put 
A lightning bolt to shame 

Throughout the day the battle waged 
And neither would cry “hold” 
With mighty blows and deadly thrusts 
Their martial tale they told 

And then at last, bold Caradoc 
A cunning thrust he gave 
That struck the monster in the heart 
And so the day was saved! 

The monster’s dying cries would fill 
A lesser heart with dread 
But Caradoc stood by unmoved 
'Til he was sure 'twas dead 

So praise the monster-slayer 
And raise a shout of glee 
Sing Ho! for Caradoc the bold 
Who slew the bumblebee! 

(NOTE: This page from moondragon.info/wiki replicated with the authorization of Aethelyn Moondragon, 05/11/21. It is taken from a Wayback Machine imaging of Tivar's website dated August 15, 2020.)
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Tivar Moondragon's Bardic Stuff - Revision history

Zubeydah: Tivar Moondragon's Bardic Stuff