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Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Minstrel Tales Black-Eyed Dwarf Rye (repost)



Minstrel Tales Black-Eyed Dwarf Rye

A small ditty from the streets of Greyhawk. It is considered rather rude and disrespectful of the Watch, but is sung throughout most of the city's inns and taverns.

Black-Eyed Dwarf Rye

Now Jak was a watchman whose post was Old Town
And she was a damsel, the street she skipped down
Said the damsel to Jak as she passed him by
Would you care for to purchase some Black-Eyed Dwarf Rye?

Thought Jak to himself now what can this be
But the finest dwarf whiskey from the Barrier Peaks
Smuggled down in a basket and sold on the sly
And the name that it goes by is Black-Eyed Dwarf Rye.

Jak gave her a gold piece and he thought nothing strange
She said, hold on to the basket till I run for your change
Jak looked in the basket and a child he did spy
I'm a goblin says Jak, if this be Black-Eyed Dwarf Rye.

Now to get the child fostered was Jak's next intent
For to get the child fostered to the priestess he went
Said the priestess to Jak, what will he go by?
Your worship says Jak, call him Black-Eyed Dwarf Rye.

Says the priestess to Jak, there's a very strange name
Your worship says Jak, 'twas the strange way he came
Smuggled down in a basket and sold on the sly
And the name that he'll go by is Black-Eyed Dwarf Rye'

Now all you bold watchmen who roam on the town
Beware of the damsels who skip up and down
Take a peep in their baskets as they pass you by
Or else they may sell you some Black-Eyed Dwarf Rye.


(Very lightly adapted from Quare Bungle Rye a popular song from Limerick)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XIETme5l7MU

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Minstrel Tales - The Bold Hommlet Farmer (repost)



Minstrel Tales - The Bold Hommlet Farmer

The Bold Hommlet Farmer

Here is a ditty that is about a small village on the road north to Verbobonc. In the inns and taverns of the area a quick gulp of ale is normally taken at the end of each chorus.

One evening of late into Hommlet I strayed
and bound for Verbobonc I was making me way
At the Welcome Wench some time I delayed
For to wet me auld whistle with Keoish

To Hommlet, To Hommlet,
To Hommlet I strayed
To Hommlet, To Hommlet
To Hommlet I strayed
The road to Verbobonc was dry as a bone
The road to Verbobonc
Was dry as a bone

I scarcely had travelled a mile of the road
When I heard a dispute in a farmer's abode
There stood a bandit, an ill looking toad
And the wife of a bold Hommlet farmer

Chorus

"You're a robber" the bold farmer's wife she replied
"You're as bad as a goblin with whom you abide
But the men of Burne's Badgers will put down your pride
They'll be here like lightning in front of a storm

Chorus

I spaded me fist and I picked up me stick
and behind that foul bandit like a mouse I did trip
Then with all my strength I gave him a lick
and the bold farmer's wife was adoring
(Loosely adapted from 'The Bold Tenant Farmer')

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Minstrel Tales The Amedio Fishers (repost)


Minstrel Tales The Amedio Fishers (repost)

Here is a song/poem. It is translated from the native language of the dwellers of the Amedio Jungle who live along the edge of the Azure Sea. Silvertongue the Bard first sang this at the Low Seas' Tavern in Greyhawk's River Quarter several years ago. Since then it has become popular among sailors from Jeklea Bay to the Solnor Ocean.

The Amedio Fishers

Rise, brothers, rise; the wakening skies pray to the morning light,
The Wind lies asleep in the arms of the dawn like a child that has
cried all night.
Come, let us gather our nets from the shore, and set our long boats
free,
To capture the leaping wealth of the tide, for we are the kings of the
sea!

No longer delay, let us hasten away in the track of the seagull's call,
Lydia is our mother, the cloud is our brother, the waves are our
comrades all.
What though we toss at the fall of the sun where the hand of Xerbo
drives?
He who holds the storm by the hair, will hide in his breast our lives.

Sweet is the shade of the deklo glade, and the scent of the kara
grove,
And sweet are the sands at the full o' the moons with the sound of the
voices we love;
But sweeter, O brothers, the kiss of the spray and the dance of the wild
foam's glee;
Row, brothers, row to the edge of the verge, where the low sky mates
with the Azure sea.

"The Coromandel Fishers" By Sarojini Naidu (with trivial alterations)