Zubeydah's Songbook

Harken, Ansteorra (a filk song)

Sung to the tune of "Donna Donna".
In the North of Ansteorra
There's a shire with a heart of gold
Led by harpers, bards and artisans
Bringing back the skills of old

Harken Ansteorra
Give heed and mark my words
There's lots up here -
Like harp-strings clear
So listen to the songs
of Northern...

Black Star in the North is rising
LionDragon roars with pride
Black Star in the North surprising:
Mooneschadowe is worth the ride!

Up in Mooneshadowe, west from Northkeep,
Men are brave and tales are told
Of lines held strongly 'gainst all comers
At each Gulf War since times of old

Harken, Ansteorra
Give heed and mark my words
There's men up here
With blades to fear!
There's BATTLES to be found
In Northern...

Black Star in the North is rising
LionDragon roars with pride
Black Star in the north surprising:
Mooneschadowe's a growing tide!

Growing word-fame spreads of those who
In the North uphold our Dream
Ansteorra's gaze upon you
In your hearts, the Black Star's gleam

Harken Ansteorra
Give heed and mark my words
There's lots up here -
Like Oxlade's BEER!
So raise your glass and toast
To Northern...

Black Star in the North is rising
LionDragon roar heard clear
Black Star in the north suprising
Mooneshadeen are family dear!

Adversity's Gift

Inspired by Hersir Thorgrim Northkeep, and Her Excellency, Sigen Northkeep
Frost-hardened lands
birth strength in men
adversity
brings a treasure
to some who heed
rarer than gold
more weighty than
the standing stones
deeper than fjords
unstealable
by thieves by night
or taken by
force of numbers
or ordered up
surrendered by
kings on far thrones
adversity
which makes a man
from a young boy
and holds him from
the company
of worms who fear
that light that prize
adversity
brings as a gift
untakeable
ungiveable
integrity

Oh Captain!

(Shamelessly filked from Walt Whitman's classic work. Written on the occasion of the Captain of the Liondragon Guard - Ollj Perala's - birthday)

Oh Captain! My Captain, a fearful trip's begun
The bus is loaded to the racks, the Frat is out for fun.
The war is near, the shouts I hear, the people all rejoicing
The guard is here, Ox brought the beer, your shieldwall bold and daring
Yes, Oh guard! Guard! Guard!
Garbed in darkest shades of red
The Liondragon proudly snarls
Above Trimeran dead

Oh Captain! My Captain, they call to reinforce
Line up - for you, the shields will hold - for you, the cadence thrills;
For you, the praise and ribbons proud - with you, the boys a-fighting
For you, they charge, unstopping mass, their eyes and hearts a-burning
Here, Captain! Dear Ollj!
Spear raised above your head
This is our Dream, that on the field
Lay cold, Trimeran dead

My Captain does not answer, his face is drawn and still;
Gasping for each labored breath, he's standing just by will;
The line has held through final charge, the battle's closed and done
Each fearful trip, at rapid clip, the Guard pressed on and won
Exult, O Hordes, and howl, O Wolf!
But we, with weary tread
Reform 'round where our Captain stands
Amidst Trimeran dead

Brothers

When off to battle men they march
their weapons close at hand
the cadence of their marching feet
enough to shake the land

Above them flies the colors proud
device of those they serve
they stride along, their heads unbowed
with steely heart and nerve

But when the skirmish rages on
blood turns the earth to mire
and warriors' strength is nearly gone
the situation dire

Flags will not restore his strength
Nor leaders or their lack
What helps him through the battle's length?
Tis the 'brother' at his back

Each man, he loves his wife and babes
his country, lord and liege
But oft his thoughts of these will fade
When courage is beseiged

For when he's at his last reserves
and must continue on
his vows to those with which he serves
will get him to the dawn

Le Chemin Noir

Written for the premier event of the (then) Incipient Canton of Chemin Noir, Fair of the Harvest.
(Chemin Noir translates to The Black Road)

In Ansteorra's distant core
Is born a winding road
It travels North from noble Steppes
and on it, kings have rode

Wise men maintain the priceless routes
that criss-cross through their lands
And guard them well against the raids
of prowling, lawless bands

For twice a year, the King commands
His vassal-men to war,
With sword and spear and bravest heart
That’s Ansteorra’s core.

We come together ‘long its length,
Beneath the sun’s cruel heat
And with glad hearts and outstretched hands,
Our kinsmen do we meet

Why sing the praises of a trail
a path, a traveled way?
Well, roads have shaped this land of ours,
The Dream sees light of day.

This Sable Road, the Chemin Noir,
Its length we often roam
To War or friends, it matters not,
At last, it brings us home.