Tha Foggeh Dew

[Jolstraer]

As doen tha glen one Spring Fair morn, tae me city fair rode ah
Thereh armed lines o'er marchin' men in squadr'ns passed mah by
Nae fife did 'um, nor ba'tle drum, did soun' et's loud tattoo
But tha Laight's own bells, o'er the Thorondril, rang out t'rough tha foggeh dew.

Right proudlah high o'er Darro'shire, 'ey hung out tha flag o' war
'Twas better tae die 'neath 'et Lord'ron sky 'en at annah o'er place, says Ah.
An' from tha plains o' Tyr's Han', stron' men came hurryin' t'rough
While tha wakin' dead, wit' 'ere 'earts o'dread, shambled on t'rough tha foggeh dew.

Oh, tha braves' fell, an' tha requiem bell rang mournfullah an' cleah
Fer 'ose 'oo died 'at Darro'shire in tha springin' o' tha yeah
An' tha worl' did gaze, in deep amaze, 'et 'ose fearless men, but few
'Oo bore tha faight, sae 'at tha Laight maight shine t'rough tha foggeh dew

Ah, back t'rough tha glen, ah rode ag'in, an' me 'eart wit' grief was sore
Fer ah parted 'en wit' valian' men, whom ah ne'er shall see more
But tae an' fro in me dreams ah'll roam, an' ah'll kneel an' pray fer yeh,
Fer tha wicked fled, O glor'ous dead, when yeh fell in tha foggeh dew.

[Jolstraer]

Ah fell asleep doen bah tha stream, an' 'ere ah 'ad tha stranges' dream
an' doen bah Heart'glen 'ere grows, a briar an' ah rose.

Thurr's ah tree in tha fores', but ah don' knae where - ah built a nes out o' yer hair...
an' climbin' up intae tha air, a briar an' a rose

Nae ah don' knae 'ow lon' 'ets been, but ah was bairn in tha Heart'en Glen...
an' neah tha en' o'spring 'ere grows, a briar an' ah rose

Ah picked tha rose wunn earlah morn, ah pricked me fingah on a thorn...
et 'ad grown sae close, 'et's windin' wove tha briar aroun' tha rose

Ah tried tae tear 'em bot' apaht, ah felt a bullet t'rough mah 'eart...
an' all dressed up in springs new clothes, tha briar an' tha rose

An' when ah'm buried an' in mah grave, tell me, sae ah will knae...
Yer tears may fall, tae make love grow, tha briar an' tha rose.

[Tarq]

Hijacking this for a rewrite of Follow Me Up To Carlow. Highly recommend giving the Young Dubliners version a listen, though it's not quite medieval.

Lift all Lordaerii your face, brooding o'er the old disgrace
That bastard baron stormed your place, and thought his butch'ry sporting
Horgus said our fate was sure - Soon the firebrand he'd secure
Until he met at Darrowshire with Lord Tirion Fordring

Chorus;
Curse and swear, Rivendare
The North will do whate'er we dare
Now Thuzadim, have a care
Crawl into your rat-holes
With blade and spell and all our might
On we'll go for by the Light
Fordring's called us to the fight
Follow me up to Stratholme!

See the swords of Andorhal, flashing through the rotted sprawl
The warriors of Tirisfal, beneath the Argent banners
With blood as old as Stromgarde's stones, would ye let this lord of bones
Claim our white walls for his home - ride out and teach him manners!

[Chorus]

From Baron's Square to Market Row, watch the blood in rivers flow
Och, great is our Revered Leo, who sets the fiends to fleeing
The rotters crushed, the cultists fled, now for black Rivendare's head
We'll send it o'er the sea of dread, to bright the Traitor's evening

[Chorus]

[Yva]

It was a Kingdoms ladye bright,
(The sun shines fair on Stormwind's walls)
And she would marry a Lordaeron knight,
For Love will still be lord of all.
Blithely they saw the rising sun
When he shone fair on Stormwind's walls;
But they were sad ere day was done,
Though Love was still the lord of all.
Her sire gave brooch and jewel fine,
Where the sun shines fair on Stormwind's walls;
Her brother gave but a flask of wine,
For ire that Love was lord of all.
For she had lands both meadow and lea,
Where the sun shines fair on Stormwind's walls,
For he swore her death, ere he would see
A Lordaeron knight the lord of all.
That wine she had not tasted well
(The sun shines fair on Stormwind's walls)
When dead, in her true love's arms, she fell,
For Love was still the lord of all!
He pierced her brother to the heart,
Where the sun shines fair on Stormwind's walls,
So perish all would true love part
That Love may still be lord of all!
And then he took the light divine,
Where the sun shines fair on Stormwind's walls,
And died for her sake in Silverpine;
So Love was still the lord of all.
Now all ye lovers, that faithful prove,
(The sun shines fair on Stormwind's walls)
Pray for their souls who died for love,
For Love shall still be lord of all!\

*****

((Shamelessly rewritten from Sir Walter Scott's poetry.))

[Jolstraer]

T'rough tha Lordaeron Glen, oft at eve 'ave ah wand'red
Wit' a 'eart 'at is lightah than tha dew o' tha morn
'Er heather-clad mountains an' clear crystal fountains
D'lightful tae view bah tha Laight o' tha Dawn

Ah see 'er green 'ills an' swif'-running streamlets
Eternally flowin' raight on tae tha sea
By 'er side ah lie doen on ah bank o' blue lilies
An' its murmurin' an' gurglin' are music tae me

In far foreign lands oft dae 'er sons wander
Bah Loch Modan Falls 'er Stranglethorn Vale
Whurr natuah is seen bot' majestic an' savage
But 'ere 'earts are et 'ome in 'ere dear native lan'.

'Ey long tae return tae the banks o' Caer Darrow
Tha Thorondril an' 'ets branches on ev'ry side
Whurr 'ere lies brave Uther, 'at once-mighty paladin
Who once 'gainst the Blackrock defen'ed wit' pride

'Er daughtahs are fair an' 'er sons, 'ey are gallant
'Ey scorn tha tyran', tha serf 'er tha slave
'Ere raights 'ey maintain 'et tha poin' o'tha halberd
Wit' an arm 'at is stron' an' ah 'eart 'at be brave

In an abbey nae far from tha town o' Andorhal
'Ere spirit hovers ovah 'at once much-loved soil
Where 'ere lies brave Uther, 'at once-mighty paladin
Who commanded of yore from Lordaeron tae Tyr's Han'

'Is statue disfigured bah unlivin' mongrels
'Is name oft impaired bah unscrupulous foes
Yet 'is soul shines in glorah 'mid choirs o'angels
As 'is body lies molderin' on tha banks o' Caer Darrow

Long shes r'membahed, 'neath her sheltering mountains
Lordaeron, an' Stratholme, an' surroundin' towns
From calamitah an' famine, great heaven, deliver 'em
An' grant 'em contentment 'neath 'ere clear purlin' rills

((Reworked from 'The Benedy Glen' by Deanté))

[Ceil]

Not a Lordaeron adaptation, but a kal'dorei one:

Who is it swinging you to and fro
With a long low swing and a sweet low croon?
Loving words of a mother's rune
Who is it swinging you to and fro?

I am thinking it is a sweet dream fair
The Dreamer that looks on the gulf from the lowest stair.
And rocks the green world to and fro with her warm and deepest care
Who swings you and her dreams to and fro.

It is She whose faintest dream is a world afar
It is She whose wish is a seven-horned leaping moon
It is She, Ysera sleeping, to whom your dreams flow
And a sweet small bud that you are
But as this sweet blossom has roots in the depths of the sky,
So as you, sweet small bud that you are, one with the Dreamer's glorysleep
Sweet small blossom that you are, my morning star

(Based on a Celtic lullaby.)

[Tarq]

A sea shanty I wrote some years ago for Ceil. (For Sonna, actually. Which is pretty weird.)

The Saint Chastain

Now listen up you oarsmen, while your backs and arms you bend
Your weeks of hefting oars alone are almost at an end
There's a ship at berth in the next port whose name is known to me
And I tell you true, there was never a crew
Like those you're soon to see

Hey-o, hey-o
On all the watery main
I tell you there, there was never a crew
Like the girls of the Saint Chastain

If you're fresh and green to seafaring and can barely hold your oar
They'll help you with the rigging and bring you safe ashore
And as for you old seadogs with your bilges 'bout to burst
In the blink of an eye, they'll bail you dry
For they've an awful thirst

Hey-o, hey-o
If you need your bilges drained
In the blink of an eye, they'll bail you dry
The crew of the Saint Chastain

There's a watcher on the crow's nest, with her masts so slim and long
When she guides you into port, she'll shout the loudest song
The mate, she takes the green lads new to sailing on the sea
She'll teach you the tides, and six ways to ride
And she'll give you a lesson for free

Hey-o, hey-o
You lads, don't fret or strain
She'll teach you the tides, and six ways to ride
A ship like the Saint Chastain

The bosun is a wee one, but she takes her job to heart
Stop your rowing for a moment, and she'll rip you right apart
And for you walking wounded, the chaplain's who you need
With a touch of Light, she'll have you upright
And feeling fine indeed

Hey-o, hey-o
Go see the good chaplain
With a touch of Light, she'll have you upright
On the deck of the Saint Chastain

The captain doesn't sail much; she's a ship and crew to run
But she's learned some tricks in thirty years, if you're lucky she'll show you one
So row a little bit longer, lads, the harbor's near in sight
My life I'll bet, you'll never forget
The things you'll see tonight

Hey-o, hey-o
It's worth these aches and pains
My life I'll bet, you'll never forget
Sailing on the Saint Chastain!

[Tarq]

And a shameless transliteration of Silly Wizard's "Donald McGillavry," this version about a Darrowshire rebel some five hundred years before WoW, who was eventually hunted down and hanged by one of Jak, Mara and Eloim's ancestors.

The Ballad of Alyn o' Gillvary

Alyn goes up the hill hard and hungry
Alyn comes down the hill wild and angry
He routen King's Hammer wi brave and wi devilry
Sir Asreic will never grasp Alyn o' Gillvary
Come like the wolfen, Alyn o' Gillvary
Come like the wolfen, Alyn o' Gillvary
Running down darksome and slipping by cleverly
Dust in the trail of Alyn o' Gillvary

Alyn were caught, but broken his tether, then
Asreic hears word of his woman with other man
When he go back, he find her so wickedly
Riding and guiding for Alyn o' Gillvary
Run fae the starlight, Alyn o' Gillvary
Run fae the starlight, Alyn o' Gillvary
Leaving the lady living in purity
Nae wanting other man than Alyn o' Gillvary

Alyn has dinner'd wi' witchen an' roguery
Alyn is honored o' whoredom an' beggary
Better it were for knights and for chivalry
Meeting the devil, than Alyn o' Gillvary
Call fae ye brothers, now, Alyn o' Gillvary
Call fae ye brothers, now, Alyn o' Gillvary
They pull down the chevers and batter them heavily
Each blow make the steel cry out "Alyn o' Gillvary!"

Alyn's a Shire lad, born o' the Darrow
His father and brothers do lie there in barrows
When kingsmen are coming he turns them back again
He will have justice or I'faith he'll take it, then
Come like the whirlwind, Alyn o' Gillvary
Come like the whirlwind, Alyn o' Gillvary
Braise them and tear them and scatter them utterly
Fear in their coward hearts of Alyn o' Gillvary

The last two verses were added after Alyn's death three months after the song was written.

Alyn could nae be kilt by Sir Asreic's blade
Alyn could nae be stuck by any trap he laid
Hammer, he caughten him only by treachery
Was Fergus the Black did for Alyn o' Gillvary
'Ware how ye roving now, Alyn o' Gillvary
'Ware how ye roving now, Alyn o' Gillvary
Black Fergus is waiting with heart sae unbrotherly
To grass and gie over poor Alyn o' Gillvary

Alyn were stood on the gallows in Darrow town
Alyn he laughed 'fore the Hammer pulled lever down
"Soon all the kingdom will spit on your perfidy!"
So he spoke at the end, Alyn o' Gillvary
Dance ye last fairly, Alyn o' Gillvary
Dance ye last fairly, Alyn o' Gillvary
The men drink ye fortune, the maidens sigh tenderly
And fix in remembering Alyn o' Gillvary

[Threnn]

Tarq found it for me! This was written in response to a thread Uthas started ages ago on fm.net. He gave us a character, the pirate Rodger Swellcrest, and a bit of his backstory. Then we got to write stories about him. I went with a sea shanty.

"The Maid of Foundling Bay"

Oh, Amy was the mayor's girl,
The youngest out of ten,
Her sweet soft voice and shining eyes
Brought 'round a hundred men.

But not a one the lass would choose,
Until that winter's day
A ship with blood-red sails a-hung
Sailed into Foundling Bay.

Hide your daughters, Mayor Brown.
Oh, why-aye, why-aye oh.
Rodger Swellcrest's on the town.
Oh, why-aye, why-aye oh.

The townsfolk locked their doors and prayed
The Widow'd leave them be.
Yet off the ship the pirates came,
A-bearing this decree:

"We'll take your whiskey and your rum,
Your diamonds and your gold.
And the captain gets the fairest maid
Of all that we behold."

Hide your daughters, Mayor Brown.
Oh, why-aye, why-aye oh.
Rodger Swellcrest's on the town.
Oh, why-aye, why-aye oh.

The crew, they knew of Mayor Brown -
His daughters were his pride.
"We'll go straight to his fine, rich house
And find our Cap a bride."

The mayor heard their booted heels
A-tramping up the path.
"Now, hide, my daughters! Run, my dears!
I'll face the Captain's wrath."

Hide your daughters, Mayor Brown.
Oh, why-aye, why-aye oh.
Rodger Swellcrest's on the town.
Oh, why-aye, why-aye oh.

Two snuck behind the curtains thick,
Two down the cellar went.
Two climbed out on the roof where they
Stared down at the Lament.

Then two squeezed underneath their beds,
One dove into a chest.
But Amy stayed by her da's side,
Fear beating in her breast.

Hide your daughters, Mayor Brown.
Oh, why-aye, why-aye oh.
Rodger Swellcrest's on the town.
Oh, why-aye, why-aye oh.

"Why aren't you with your sisters, dear?
They're almost at the door."
"I will not leave you here," she said.
"It's me that they've come for.

"They'd kill you first, then search the house,
And find us anyway.
Don't cry for me, oh Father mine,
For it's my wedding day."

Hide your daughters, Mayor Brown.
Oh, why-aye, why-aye oh.
Rodger Swellcrest's on the town.
Oh, why-aye, why-aye oh.

Sweet Amy kissed her father's cheek,
Combed fingers through her hair.
And opened up the door to see
The Captain waiting there.

"Give us your blessing, Mayor Brown,"
Said Swellcrest with a grin.
"And I swear she'll never come to harm,
Nor any of her kin."

Hide your daughters, Mayor Brown.
Oh, why-aye, why-aye oh.
Rodger Swellcrest's on the town.
Oh, why-aye, why-aye oh.

The mayor's heart broke in his chest,
But blessings he bestowed.
Then Swellcrest lifted up his bride,
And marched back down the road.

The crew danced 'round the newlyweds,
The whole way to the sand.
Then Amy stood upon the beach,
And took her husband's hand.

Hide your daughters, Mayor Brown.
Oh, why-aye, why-aye oh.
Rodger Swellcrest's on the town.
Oh, why-aye, why-aye oh.

She turned back one last time to wave
Good-bye and fare-thee-well,
Then boarded she the old Lament,
Where from then on she'd dwell.

Then sails unfurled and caught the winds.
The Widow sailed away.
And never was she seen again,
The Maid of Foundling Bay.

Oh, lift your glass to Amy Brown,
The Maid of Foundling Bay.

Hide your daughters, Mayor Brown.
Oh, why-aye, why-aye oh.
Rodger Swellcrest's on the town.
Oh, why-aye, why-aye oh.

[Thiyenn]

((A repost from me blog. It's a silly song, but it's proven to get the pants off a lad. Not that it's hard.))

Ye've got a nice arse so let's do it
We'll go back t'my place an' discuss it
I've got whiskey an' beer and a cup a' good cheer-O
Th' drinkin's on me
Here's hopin' that you will be too.

Ye've spurned me advances, an' yes, that's a first
An' if y'don't love me, methinks I may burst
That's a lie, but I want ye ta give me a chance
I jus' want a fuck, not romance.

Ye've got a nice arse so let's do it
We'll go back t'my place an' discuss it
I've got whiskey an' beer and a cup a' good cheer-O
Th' drinkin's on me
Here's hopin' that you will be too.

Just give th'sign, cully; I'll sit in yer lap
Ye've all a' me sweetness an' graces on tap
An' nivver a lass a' sich discernin' taste
'As ever took roost on yer face.

Ye've got a nice arse so let's do it
We'll go back t'my place an' discuss it
I've got whiskey an' beer and a cup a' good cheer-O
Th' drinkin's on me
Here's hopin' that you will be too.

Now if yer ear's closed ta such bawdy ol' verse
Per'aps I've misjudged ye, ye'll hate me or worse;
If tryin' ta bed ya requires a dance
I'll do it ta get in yer pants.

Ye've got a nice arse so let's do it
We'll go back t'my place an' discuss it
I've got whiskey an' beer and a cup a' good cheer-O
Th' drinkin's on me
Here's hopin' that you will be too.

I'm hopin' that you will be too.