The Three Deep Ones

By Colyne Stewart

A filk of The Three Ravens by Baroness Kilde ferch Ystwyth ap Twm, of Thescorre, 1999

Sung to the tune of the Windmill Song by the Gaels.
In days gone by when we were unchanged
A man in Innsmouth looked down from the reef
circling below him he saw there three deep ones
and he said, "For them I shall start new beliefs.”

And around and around and around swim the deep ones
There's the Dagon and the Hydra and don't forget Pthugn’ulfgg’yy
One's for believing and one's for remembering
and one's to drive you completely insane

The House of the Fish had heralds and bard-types
fighters and fencers and fools far and wide
They planned and they plotted throughout the whole year
’Til Fhtagnites called in things from outside.

And around and around and around swim the deep ones
There's the Dagon and the Hydra and don't forget Pthugn’ulfgg’yy
One's for believing and one's for remembering
and one's to drive you completely insane

House Fhtagn the non-House had many Old Ones
and was blessed with shoggoths who bloated and rose
they squirmed and they squamed as they moved around
spreading terror and horror wherever they goes

And around and around and around swim the deep ones
There's the Dagon and the Hydra and don't forget Pthugn’ulfgg’yy
One's for believing and one's for remembering
and one's to drive you completely insane

The Knowne World now is our demesne
Colyne and Thorfinna hold the House in thrall
With Ithaqua, Cthulhu and Kings dressed in Yellow
and Hastur, he-who-is-not-to-be-named.

And around and around and around swim the deep ones
There's the Dagon and the Hydra and don't forget Pthugn’ulfgg’yy
One's for believing and one's for remembering
and one's to drive you completely insane

Deep Ones of dark green survive any weather
Deep Ones of gilled necks love human girls
Deep Ones have webbed paws and also big finned feet
and Deep Ones, they gibber and dance and they whirl

And around and around and around swim the deep ones
There's the Dagon and the Hydra and don't forget Pthugn’ulfgg’yy
One's for believing and one's for remembering
and one's to drive you completely insane.

The Sewers’ Lament (One More Pattern)

Colyne Stewart and Thorfinna gra’feldr, Feb As 37 (2003)

Based on “Eastrealm Battle Chant (One More Battle)” by Master Hector of the Black Height

One more pattern, one more fray,

One more cross-stitch, one more stay.

One more thimble on my thumb,

Eight more hours and I’ll be done.

Once again my thumb has bled,

My white tunic is stained red.

My only trim is pea soup green;

Just what does stay-stitching mean?

One more pattern, one more fray,

One more cross-stitch, one more stay.

One more thimble on my thumb,

Eight more days and I’ll be done.

Rolls of fabric on my floor

Wool and cotton, silk and more.

All of it I bought real cheap,

From Value Village up the street.

One more pattern, one more fray,

One more cross-stitch, one more stay.

One more thimble on my thumb,

Eight more weeks and I’ll be done.

To make my hood I sew a curve,

To fix the ends I use a surge.

I think its coming out all right

But in is out and left is right!

One more pattern, one more fray,

One more cross-stitch, one more stay.

One more thimble on my thumb,

Eight more months and I’ll be done.

Why’d I pick a cotehardie?

It is too advanced for me.

Look at all those buttoned sleeves!

I want to throw a fit and leave.

One more pattern, one more fray,

One more cross-stitch, one more stay.

One more thimble on my thumb,

Eight more years and I’ll be done!

The Age of Septentria

Colyne Stewart, Oct AS XXXVII (2003)

Sung to the tune of The Age of Aquarius from the musical Hair.

When the bear regards the rising moon

And grey wolves race within the night

The northlands will stand with sword

Ursine led to the fight

This is the dawning of the age of Septentria

The age of Septentria

Septentria!

Septentria!

Loyalty and honour bringing

Fealty and foemen ringing

With courage on the bloody field

And true-blow struck upon the shield

Roars of ursine pride and fury

Standing tall while doing duty

When the bear regards the rising moon

And grey wolves race withint he night

The northlands will stand with sword

Ursine led to the fight

This is the dawning of the age of Septentria

The age of Septentria

Septentria!

Septentria!

I’ve got a Bruise

Colyne Stewart, October AS XXXVII (2003)

Sung to the tune of “The Song of the Northern Wanderers” (more often known as “Home”) by Master Hector of the Black Height.

Dedicated to all the fighters mentioned within, who always inspire me to push myself harder.

Chorus:

I’ve got a bruise, bruise, bruise on the list field.

I’ve got a bruise, bruise, the size of Ealdormere (x2)

My bones are tired, my muscles are sore

I don’t know if I’ll fight anymore

I’ve got a big bruise on the side of my leg

From getting hit by a honking big glaive

Chorus

In the Bear Pit I just fought Ron

He had two sticks, I only had one

He beat me so soundly around ‘bout my head

Fifty-two times in one fight I’m dead

Chorus

My shield is dented, my sword is all chipped,

My armour is pierced, and my tabard is ripped,

My helm lies in pieces down on the floor

Rivets, not duct tape, I’ll use ever more

Chorus

Domhnaill hit me right ‘bove the calf

As I dropped dead I could not but laugh

Hidden behind Thorfinna’s round shield

Only Domhnaill’s feet were revealed

Chorus

My Thegn he likes me, I make a great pell

I’m quite the target in the land where I dwell

I have to learn some better defense

Cynred’s head shots are giving me sense

Chorus

I’ve fought with Berus, Ed the red too

And I’ve fought with kings, like good subjects do

Kenric and Wat, whom I both adore

Keep sending me down to lie on the floor

Chorus

I may be battered and I may be bruised

Why do I do it I’ve often mused

Fighting’s such fun, man do I love it,

These signs of affection I’m learning to covet

Chorus

I’m Afraid of Ealdormereans: A Song of the Middle’s Soldiers

Colyne Stewart, July AS XXXVII (2003)

Ah-ah-ah-ah ah-ah ah-ah-ah

Dragon’s in Ealdormere

Marching as to War

Ah-ah-ah-ah ah-ah ah-ah-ah

This year we’re at odds

And all their soldiers wail

Ah-ah-ah-ah ah-ah ah-ah-ah

Dragon’s in Ealdormere

I’m afraid of Eald’mereans

I’m afraid of their Wolves

I’m afraid of their big axe

I’m afraid I am

I’m afraid of Eald’mereans

I’m afraid of their Wolves

I’m afraid of their big axe

I’m afraid I am

I’m afraid of Eald’mereans

Dragon’s in Ealdormere

Ah-ah-ah-ah ah-ah ah-ah-ah

Dragon wants a War

Dragon wants to beat up our Knights

Dragon wants a conquest

Dragon wants to knock out our lights

Ah-ah-ah-ah ah-ah ah-ah-ah

Dragon’s in Ealdormere

Ah-ah-ah-ah ah-ah ah-ah-ah

I’m afraid of Eald’mereans

I’m afraid of their Wolves

I’m afraid of their big axe

I’m afraid I am

I’m afraid of Eald’mereans

I’m afraid of their Wolves

I’m afraid of their big axe

I’m afraid I am

I’m afraid of Eald’mereans

Ah-ah-ah-ah ah-ah ah-ah-ah

Dragon’s in Ealdormere

Dragon burns his soldiers’ heels

Dragon primps his scales

Dragon goes looting and steals

Dragon’s in Eald’mere, Ah-ah-ah-ah ah-ah ah-ah-ah

Dragon’s in Eald’mere, Ah-ah-ah-ah ah-ah ah-ah-ah

I’m afraid of Eald’mereans

I’m afraid of their Wolves

I’m afraid of their big axe

I’m afraid I am

I’m afraid of Eald’mereans

I’m afraid of their Wolves

I’m afraid of their big axe

I’m afraid I am

I’m afraid of Eald’mereans

Odin is an Eald’merean

Odin is an Eald’merean

I’m afraid of Eald’mereans

I’m afraid of their Wolves

I’m afraid of their big axe

I’m afraid I am

I’m afraid of Eald’mereans

I’m afraid of their Wolves

I’m afraid of their big axe

I’m afraid I am

Yeah, I’m afraid of Eald’mereans

I’m afraid of their Wolves

I’m afraid of their big axe

I’m afraid I am

I’m afraid of Eald’mereans

Dragon’s in Eald’mere

Dragon’s in Eald’mere

Dragon’s in Eald’mere, Ah-ah-ah-ah ah-ah ah-ah-ah

Dragon’s in Eald’mere, Ah-ah-ah-ah ah-ah ah-ah-ah

Dragon’s in Eald’mere, Ah-ah-ah-ah ah-ah ah-ah-ah

Dragon’s in Eald’mere, Ah-ah-ah-ah ah-ah ah-ah-ah

I Got You, Brandt

In Honour of Lord Brandt das Lederwerker being squired to Sir Evander MachLachlan*

Sung to the tune of "I Got You, Babe" by Sonny and Cher

by Laird Colyne Stewart and Lady Thorfinna gra'feldr

Evander:    They say that now that I'm a knight,

                   I have to train some others how to fight.

Brandt:             Well, I've been fighting for several years,

                        But to date I've not been doing it for Peers.

Evander:    Brandt. I've got you Brandt. I've got you Brandt.

                        They say you know how to swing a stick,

                        And that your armoured legs are not too thick.

Brandt:             They say you like to gobble food up,

                        But only if its slathered in ketchup.

Evander:    Brandt. I've got you Brandt. I've got you Brandt.

                        I've got butt wraps to cause pain,

                        I've got you to wear my chain.

Brandt:             And when I'm bad...

Evander:    Oh yeah!

Brandt:             You're my dad!

Evander:    I'm your dad!

Brandt:             And you'll straighten me out fast!

                        Don't let 'em say that you're too small,

                        'Cause your heart is bigger then 'em all.

Evander:           Then put my belt about your waist,

                        There's no opposition we can't face.

Brandt. I've got you Brandt. I've got you Brandt.

                        I've got you to wash my car...

Brandt:             I've got you to take me far!

Evander:    I've got you to make me stuff...

Brandt:             I've got you to treat me rough!

Evander:    I've got you to lug my gear...

Brant:               I've got you to install fear!

Evander:    I've got you to mow my grass...

Brandt:             I've got you to kick my ass!

Evander:    I've got you Brandt. (x7)

* A note upon the text. At Brandt's squiring (at Pennsic War XXXII, the "bloody muddy Pennsic") he and Evander sat side by side, the better to conspire together. To onlookers it appeared as if they were gazing into each others’ face. Thorfinna began to hum "I Got You, Brandt" and this is the inevitable result.

Cynred the Baron has Two Wives

By Thorfinna gra’felder and Colyne Stewart, Jan AS XXXVI

Sung to the tune of ‘Alice the Camel’

(After an introduction, that went along the lines of:)

Good gentles, pray pay heed if you would hear a song sung of Cynred. Cynred, Glorious Baron of Septentria. Cynred the strong. Cynred of the axe. Cynred, he whom Gaerwen has asked be publicly mocked. And what, you may ask, was his crime. Well, quite simply:

Cynred the Baron has two wives,

Cynred the Baron has two wives,

Cynred the Baron has two wives,

And Gaerwen look surprised.

Cynred the Baron has three wives,

Cynred the Baron has three wives,

Cynred the Baron has three wives,

He bought them for some sheep.

Cynred the Baron has four wives,

Cynred the Baron has four wives,

Cynred the Baron has four wives,

And Gaerwen’s not impressed.

Cynred the Baron has five wives,

Cynred the Baron has five wives,

Cynred the Baron has five wives,

And Gaerwen screams in rage!

Cynred the Baron has six wives,

Cynred the Baron has six wives,

Cynred the Baron has six wives,

And Gaerwen’s got a knife.

Cynred the Baron has seven wives,

Cynred the Baron has seven wives,

Cynred the Baron has seven wives,

So run, Cynred, run!

Cynred the Baron has eight wives,

Cynred the Baron has eight wives,

Cynred the Baron has eight wives,

Now Gaerwen’s got his beard.

Cynred the Baron has one wife,

Cynred the Baron has one wife,

Cynred the Baron has one wife,

Because he wants to keep his…head.

St. Crispinus’ Day Speech

Colyne Stewart, Oct AS XXXVII (2002)

Today is the 2nd anniversary of the Glowering of Crispinus (Oct 25, AS
XXXV), a moment that was immortalized in the immortal play 'Henry the V I
am, I am" by the immortal Chreagger playwright Stephen of the Ink Stained
Fingers. To celebrate this fine holiday I would like to take this
opportunity to quote from Stephen's work:

The St. Crispinus' Day speech:

Seneschal:
"O that we had a holiday
upon this day, an excuse for sloth,
a reason not to work."

Crispinus:
"What ho, my lord, if I must call you so,
do you rail for reasons?
If we are wont to sloth, then we will do so,
and if we are asked to work we shall decline.
By the Turtle of the Cliffs I care not for gold,
but for the frothy amber of a pint
I may be inspired to raise my pick or hoe,
but once quaffed the lethargy returns
and tool sinks to the earth.
I tire, lord, if I must call you so,
of kings and laws when fun I want
and if the want of fun is sin
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, horror, ask not for work or law.
By the aardvark, I do not care for your rewards
You think the scroll an honour
(and mayhap it is) but an honour bought how?
With work? With toil? With blind following of laws?
Nay, I have no stomach for this fight
and shall depart these sylvan shores
to pay my passage home with coin
raised through foolery.
This day I leave you, my work done,
and this day may be a holiday
for call it the feast of St. Crispinus
for he (or she) that wakes this day may
take their break from toil
to travel to a local pub
and raise a glass of ale or stoat
and toast the memory of me,
the glowering jester of Ardchreag.
Blow the foam, sip the mead,
Sample from the finest brews:
Guinness, Rickard's, Whitbread, Bass,
These are my pantheon.
Do not forget to take some time
for fun, by gods, for fun and folly.
Frolic on the cliffs, our home,
work as work ye must,
but on this day I have named for me
take the time for thyself
drink and be merry, hold thy cup high,
and exclaim while speech remains with you,
"To our leisure we give thanks,
Upon this St. Crispinus' Day!"

(Please note: This is a work of fiction, based on Shakespeare's St.
Crispin's Day speech in Henry V. It is written purely in fun and in
remembrance of Crispinus Spellar, who plays our game no more. Today really
is St. Crispin's Day. And as true coincidences go, in the original speech, a
man is mentioned by the name of Talbot, which is Crispinus' mundane last
name.)

Limerick

Laird Colyne Stewart (July AS 38)

There once was a man from Septentria
A herald who suffered dementia
His great yarbles were blue
He wished all others were too
So he painted them all in his mania

I am SCAnadian!

Colyne Stewart and Thorfinna grafeldr, 2001

“I am not a geek, or a loser,

And I don’t live in a castle, eat boar’s head, or own a sword

(Well, OK, I do own a sword),

And I don’t personally know Chaucer, Erik the Red or Joan of Arc,

Although I’m sure they were really, really nice.

I have their Lupine Majesties, not just a King and Queen.

I speak in the language of my Persona (kind of), as well as Mundane,

And I say “Wassail!” not “Hurrah!”.

I can proudly sew the Trillium on my tabard

(Assuming the Heralds let me).

I believe in fun, not nitpicking;

Service, Duty, and Honour (with a ‘u’);

And that the wolf is a truly proud and noble animal!

Sites are Wet or Dry, not Damp; The Lawspeaker is a real Office;

And it is pronounced ZED, not ZEE, ZED!

(Sorry, but that really bugs me!)

Ealdormere is the sixteenth kingdom,

The First Nation of the North

And the best part of the Knowne World!

MY NAME IS LORD JOE AND I AM SCANADIAN!”