Index A

The 7 Days of Sewing Hell	All of the Filkers are Singing	Willie Archer
The twelve rounds of the tourney	Alta's Song	Anne Boleyn
Sixteen Knights	ALWAYS LOOK ON THE BRIGHT SIDE OF LIFE!	Are You Drinking With Me, Jesus?
A Cautionary Tale	Amazing Grace	The Ash Grove
A Fine Friggin' Song	A Nation Once Again	A Touch of Autumn
A Grazing Mace	An Irish Ballad	Avondale
All for Me Grog	Anna at the turning	Auld Lang Syne

G7 C G7 C
"Pray make a banner just like the tabard that is red and yellow parti"

G7
"Make me a corset, don't forget the banner, just like the tabard that is
C G7 C
Red and yellow parti"

G7
"Make me a tunic, finish my corset, hurry with the banner, that is just
C G7 C
Like the tabard that is red and yellow parti"

G7 C F C
"I need 5 gates of hell! Before you do the tunic, after you finish the
corset, while you make the banner that is just like the tabard that is

G7 C G7 C
"One dagged sleeved hupalon, 2 linen wimples, 5 gates of Hell!, when you

F
do the tunic, after the corset, when you finish the banner that is just
C G7 C
like the tabard, that is red and yellow parti"

ON the day of 12th Night my sister bade of me,
G7
"A 4 layer velvet Tudor, after you start the dagged sleeved hupalon, I'll
C G7 C G7
take over the wimples, almost done on the 5 gates of Hell, forget about
the tunic, but finish up the corset, don't forget the banner that is just
C G7 C
like the tabard that is red and yellow parti"

SING SLOW AND DURGE LIKE
C G7
On the day after 12th Night- there was 1 velvet Tudor, 1 dagged
C G7 C
sleeved hupalon, 2 linen wimples, 5 gates of Hell!, 1 full length tunic,
G7 C
a steel boned corset, I thread bare banner just like the tabard that all

I
On the first round of the tourney,
My true love said to me,
“I…. Want to be queen!”
II
On the second round of the tourney,
My true love said to me,
“I want a Tudor Step-up!”
and…
“I… want to be queen!”
III
ON the third round of the tourney,
My true love said to me,
“Don’t mess up the favor!”
“I want a Tudor Step-up!”
and…
“I…. Want to be queen!”

XII
On the twelfth round of the tourney,
My true love said to me,
“Is Commondopolous the best you can do?”
“I can’t stand the pressure!”
“We’ll banish him at Twelfth Night.”
“Princess would’ve been nicer.”
“My membership’s in question.”
“Merchant’s Row’s still open!”
“What’s a Guildmarion?”
“It’s only a scratch!”
“I missed your forth round fight.”
“Don’t mess up the favor!”
“I want a Tudor Step-up!”
and…
“I…. Want to be queen!”

On the ride homeward,
My true love said to me,
“We’ll get ‘em at the March Crown!”
(end)

Some people say a knight's made outta mud,
But a stick jock's made outta muscle and blood.
Muscle and blood and plate and mail,
A mind that's weak and an arm of hail.

Ya find sixteen knights and what do ya get?
Another bruised shoulder and deeper in debt,
Duke Frederick (or another duke) don't call me cuz I can't go.
I owe my soul to the armorer's store.

I was born one morning when the sun didn't shine,
I got some rattan and went in the line.
I found sixteen knights to pulverize,
And the Earl Marshal cried authorized.

Ya find sixteen knights and what do ya get?
Another bruised shoulder and deeper in debt,
Duke Frederick (or another duke) don't call me cuz I can't go.
I owe my soul to the armorer's store.

Well I fight real clean and I fight real fair,
At least when there's a marshal there
I take any blow that hits me right,
But there aren't too man cuz they all feel light.

Ya find sixteen knights and what do ya get?
Another bruised shoulder and deeper in debt,
Duke Frederick (or another duke) don't call me cuz I can't go.
I owe my soul to the armorer's store.

Well if ya see me comin' better step aside,
A lot of knights didn't and a lot of knights died.
I can fight any style and make my kill,
If my mace don't get you my broad sword will.

Well I'm thirty years old and I'm a master, too.
I won crown tourney it was easy to do.
I'm a duke thrice over, give me my due.
I can beat Duke Paul and I can beat you too.

Ya find sixteen knights and what do ya get?
Another bruised shoulder and deeper in debt,
Duke Frederick (or another duke) don't call me cuz I can't go.
I owe my soul to the armorer's store.

Well, come sit ye down, and I'll tell you a tale
It concerns what goes on 'tween lads & lasses
'tis a good thing to learn for any canny lass
And when I am done you will thank me.

CHORUS: Red is yer nose as on yer face it grows
And red is me face as I sit here
And red is the hand does the spankin' in this land
But my arse is redder than any!

"Now come to the bed, me bonnie little wife,
And we'll have a bit of slap-and-tickle.
And willing I went and well was I served
But 'twas then that I made my great blunder.

"Oh, Johnnie, my love, your lovin' has no peer"
and truer words were never spoken
But Robbie's the name of my duly wedded lord
And John is the name of my lover.

Then up from the bed, me husband bolted up
And great was his rage as he shouted,
"Now how is it, wife that ye call another's name,
When I should be all that ye think of?"

My tale now is done, as I shift from cheek to cheek
The lesson I learned is quite simple;
If ye canna hold your tongue when ye're lyin' with a man,
'Tis best ye remain ever faithful!

Edited by Ewan Keith, Senechal of House Orpheus,
Brother of the Moth Eaten Order of St. Golias

I went out to take a friggin' walk by the friggin pier
a-wishin for a friggin coin to buy a friggin beer
my head it was a-achin and my throat was parched and dry
and so I sent a little prayer a-wingin to the sky

And there came a friggin' falcon and he walked upon the waves
and I said "A friggin miracle" and sang a couple staves
of a friggin churchy ballad I learned when I was young,
The friggin' bird took to the air and spattered me with dung

I fell upon my friggin knees and bowed my friggin head,
and said three friggin Aves for all my friggin dead
and then I got upon my feet and said another ten
the Friggin bird burst into flame - and spattered me again

The Burnin' bird hung in the sky just like a friggin sun
It seared my friggin eyelids shut and when the job was done
The bird fell from the sky and vanished in the sea so green,
I went to find the friggin' priest to tell him what I'd seen.

I told him of the miracle he told me of the Rose
I showed him bird crap in my hair the bastard held his nose
I went to see the bishop but the friggin bishop said,
go home and sleep it off, you sod, and wash yer friggin' head!

Then I came upon a friggin wake for a friggin' rotten swine,
by the name of Jack MacGregor and I touched his head with mine,
And old Jack sat up in his box and raised his friggin head
His wife took out a fryin' pan and beat the bastard dead

And I touched his head with mine, and brought him back to life
His smiling face rolled on the floor, this time she used a knife
and then she fell upon her knees and started in to pray
"It's forty years, O Lord" she said " I've waited for this day!"

So I walked the friggin' city 'mongst the friggin halt and lame
and every time I raised 'em up, they got knocked down again
'cause the love of God comes down to man in a friggin curious way
But when a man is marked for love, that love is here to stay

And this I know because I've got a friggin curious sign
for every time I wash my head the water turns to wine!
and I give it free to workin' lads to brighten up their lives,
so they don't kick no dogs around nor beat up on their wives

'Cause there ain't no use to miracles like walkin' on the sea,
They crucified the Son of God, but they don't muck with me!
'Cause I leave the friggin blind alone, the dyin' and the dead,
but every day at four o'clock I wash me friggin head!

A grazing mace, how sweet the sound, that felled a foe for me
I bashed his head, he struck the ground, and thus came victory

My mace has taught my foes to fear, that mace my fears relieved
How precious did my mace appear, when I my mace received

Through many tourneys, wars, and fairs, I have already come
My mace has brought me safe so far, my mace will bring me home

The King has promised good to me, His word my hope secures
I will his Shield and Weapon be, when He gives me my spurs

And when my mace my foeman nails, that mortal strife shall cease
And we'll possess within our pale, a life of joy and peace

A grazing mace, how sweet the sound, that flattened a wretch like thee
Whose head is flat, that once was round done in by my mace...And me!

A grazing mace, how sweet the sound that smites a foe like thee
You're left there lying on the ground, you've left the field to me!

CHORUS: And it's all for me grog. me jolly, jolly grog
All for my beer and tobacco
Well, I spent all me tin with the lasses drinkin' gin
Far across the Western Ocean I must wander

I'm sick in the head and I haven't been to bed
Since first I came ashore with me plunder
I've seen centipedes and snakes and me head is full of aches
And I have to take a path for way out yonder

ALT CHORUS: And it's all for me grog. Me jolly, jolly grog
All for me beer and tobacco
Well, I spent all me loot in a house of ill repute
And I think I'll have to go back there tomorrow.

Where are me boots, me noggin', noggin' boots
They're all sold for beer and tobacco
See the soles they were thin and the uppers were lettin' in
And the heels were lookin' out for better weather

Where is me shirt, me noggin', noggin' shirt
It's all sold for beer and tobacco
You see the sleeves were all worn out and the collar been torn about
And the tail was lookin' out for better weather

Where is me wife, me noggin', noggin' wife
She's all sold for beer and tobacco
You see her front it was worn out and her tail I kicked about
And I'm sure she's lookin' out for better weather

Where is me bed, me noggin', noggin' bed
It's all sold for beer and tobacco
You see I sold it to the girls until the springs were all in twirls
And the sheets they're lookin' out for better weather

And it's all for me grog me jolly, jolly grog
All for my beer and tobacco
Well, I spent all me tin with the lasses drinkin' gin
Far across the Western Ocean I must wander
Home | Back to top

The folks have all gathered under the bright moonlight
To sing strange tales of dragons in flight
The laurels overheard us, they've retired for the night
They can't take the sound of our singing

CHORUS:
So belt out whatever note suits you
Join in everyone, is your own key
It's fare thee well, to all vestige of harmony
When all of the filkers are singing

When sing-a-longs start in this gathering of friends
The authentic mavens scream, "Dear God when will it end"
The drunks and the tone deaf add spice to the blend
Of what we have the gall to call singing

Our bloodshot eyes clash with the pink morning sun
It's a hell of a night once the singing's begun
Yet for some strange reason we claim that it's fun
When everyone is gathered for singing

I am a babe, an only babe,
Fire and water and all,
Who in my mother’s womb was made,
Great Alta Take my soul.

But from that mother I was torn,
Fire and water and all,
And to a hillside I as borne,
Great Alta Take my soul.

And on that hillside was I laid,
Fire and water and all,
And taken up all by a maid,
Great Alta save my soul.

And one and two and three we r?
Fire and water and all,
Till others took the heavy load,
Great Alta take my soul.

Let all good women hark to me,
Fire and water and all,
For fostering shall set thee free,
Great Alta save my soul.

Cheer up, Brian. You know what they say.
Some things in life are bad
They can really make you mad
Other things just make you swear and curse
When you're chewing on life's gristle
Don't grumble, give a whistle
And this'll help things turn out for the best...
And......always look on the bright side of life
(whistle)
Always look on the bright side of life...
(whistle)

If life seems jolly rotten
There's something you've forgotten
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing,
When you're feeling in the dumps,
Don't be silly chumps
Just purse your lips and whistle--that's the thing.

And...always look on the bright side of life...
(whistle)
Always look on the right side of life...
(whistle)

For life is quite absurd
And death's the final word
You must always face the curtain with a bow
Forget about your sin--give the audiences a grin
Enjoy it--it's your last chance anyhow.
So always look on the bright side of death
Just before you draw your terminal breath

Life's a piece of shit
When you look at it
Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true,
You'll see it's all a show,
Keep 'em laughing as you go
Just remember that the last laugh is on you.

And always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the right side of life

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now I'm found
Was blind, but now I see

'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear
And grace that fear relieved
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils, and snares
I have already come
'Tis grace has brought me safe thus far
And grace will lead me home.

How sweet the name of Jesus sounds
In a believer's ear
It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds
And drives away his fear.

Must Jesus bear the cross alone
And all the world go free
No, there's a cross for everyone
And there's a cross for me.

When we've been here ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun,
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we first begun.

When boyhood's fire was in my blood
I read of ancient freemen,
For Greece and Rome who bravely stood,
Three hundred men and three men;
And then I prayed I yet might see
Our fetters rent in twain,
And Ireland. long a province, be
A Nation once again!

Chorus: A nation once again,
A nation once again,
And Ireland, long a province, be
A Nation once again!

And from that time, through wildest woe,
That hope has shown a far light,
Nor could love's brightest summer glow
Outshine that solemn starlight;
It seemed to watch above my head
In forum, field and fame,
Its angel voice sang round my bed,
A Nation once again.

It whisper'd too, that freedom's ark,
And service high and holy,
Would be profaned by feeling dark
And passions vain or lowly;
For, Freedom comes from God's right hand,
And needs a godly train;
And righteous men must make our land
A nation once again!

About a maid I sing a song
Sing rickety tickety tin
About a maid I sing a song
Who didn't have her family long
Not only did she do them wrong
She did every one of them in, them in
She did every one of them in

One morning in a fit of peak
Sing rickety tickety tin
One morning in a fit of peak
She drown her father in the creek
The water tasted bad for a week
So we had to make due with Gin, with Gin
We had to make due with Gin

Her mother she could never stand
Sing rickety tickety tin
Her mother she could never stand
And so a cyanide stew she planned
Her mother died with a spoon in her hand
And her face in a hideous grin, a grin
Her face in a hideous grin

She set her sisters hair on fire
Sing rickety tickety tin
She set her sisters hair on fire
And as the smoke and flames rose higher
She danced around the funeral pyre
Playing a violin, 'olin
Playing a violin

(Spoken fast)
She weighted her brother down with stones
Sing rickety tickety tin
She weighed her brother down with stones
And sent him off to Davy Jones
(Sung)
All they ever found were some bones
And occasional pieces of skin, of skin
Occasional pieces of skin

One day when she had nothing to do
Sing rickety tickety tin
One day when she had nothing to do

She cut her baby brother in two
Served him up as an Irish Stew
And invited the neighbors in, 'bors in
And invited the neighbors in

And when at last the police came by
Sing rickety tickety tin
And when at last the police came by
Her little pranks she could not deny
To do so she would have had to lie
And lying she knew was a sin, a sin
And lying she knew was a sin

My ghastly tale I'll not prolong
Sing rickety tickety tin
My ghastly tale I'll not prolong
And if you did not enjoy my song
You've yourself to blame if it's too long
You should never have let me begin, begin
You should never have let me begin!
Home | Back to top

Gray in the moonlight, and green in the sun,
Dark in the evening,
Bright in the dawn,
Ever the meadow goes endlessly on,
And Anna at each turning.

Sweet in the springtide, sour in fall,
Winter casts snow, a white velvet caul.
Passage in summer is swiftest of all
And Anna at each turning.

Look to the meadows and look to the hills,
Look to the rocks where the swift river spills,
Look to the farmland the farmer still tills
For Anna is Returning.
Home | Back to top

O as I was a-walking down by yon mill-town,
The fair and lovely mountains they did me surround;
'Twas there I saw a fair maid, and to me she looked grand;
She was plucking wild roses on the banks of the Bann.

So I stepped up to this fair one, and to her I did say,
"Since nature has formed us for to meet on this day --
Since nature has formed us, won't you give me your hand,
And we will walk together on the banks of the Bann."

Now it being a summer's evening and a fine quiet place,
I knew by the blushes that appeared on her face....
We both lay down together unto a bed of sand,
And she rolled into my arms on the banks of the Bann.

"O young man, you have wronged me; won't you tell me your name,
That when my babe is born I may give it the same?"
"My name is Willie Archer, and I'd have you understand
That my home and habitation lie close by the Bann.

"But I cannot marry you, for apprenticed I'm bound
To the spinning and the weaving in Rathfriland town.
But when my time is over I will give you my hand
And we will be married on the banks of the Bann."

So come all you fair maidens, take warning by me:
Don't go out a-courting at one, two, or three.
Don't go out a-courting so late if you can,
Or you'll meet with Willie Archer on the banks of the Bann.
Home | Back to top

In the Tower of London, large as life,
The ghost of Anne Boleyn walks, they declare.
For Anne Boleyn was once King Henry's wife,
Until he had the axe man bob her hair.
Oh, yes, he did it long, long years ago,
And she comes back at night to tell him so.

Chorus:
With her 'ead tucked underneath her arm,
She walks the bloody Tower,
With her head tucked underneath her arm,
At the midnight hour.

She comes to haunt King Henry, she means giving him what-for
Gadzooks, she's going to tell him off, for spilling of her gore.
And just in case the axe man wants to give her encore,
She has her head tucked underneath her arm.

Now sometimes old King Henry gives a spread,
For all his pals and gals, a ghastly crew,
The axe man carves the joint and cuts the bread,
When in comes Anne Boleyn to spoil the mood.
She holds her head up with a wild war whoop,
And Henry cries, "don't drop it in the soup!"

She walks the endless corridors, for miles and miles she goes,
She often catches cold, poor dear, it's drafty when it blows,
And it's awfully, awfully awkward for the queen to blow her nose,
With her head tucked underneath her arm.

The sentries think that it's a football that she carries in,
And when they've had a few they shout, "Is Army going to win?"
They think that it's Red Grange instead of poor old Anne Boleyn
With her head tucked underneath her arm.

One night she caught King Henry, he was in the canteen bar,
He said, "Are you Jane Seymour, Anne Boleyn, or Catherine Parr?
Now how the heck am I supposed to know just who you are?
With your head tucked underneath your arm?
Home | Back to top

Do you nestle by my barstool
Makin' me so calm within
Have you touched me with your warmness
Or have I touched myself with gin?

CHORUS: Are you drinkin' with me Jesus
I can't see you very clear
If you're drinkin' with me Jesus
Won't you buy a friend a beer?

If you're omnipresent, Jesus
You don't have to use the phone
If you're always by my side, Lord
You need never drink alone

Do you teeter with me, Jesus
On my way home so forlorn
If you think that you feel bad now
Wait until tomorrow morn

Does your head pound with the masses
As hungover you do rise
What does heaven look like, Jesus
Seen through holy bloodshot eyes

Should we take a taxi, Jesus
Should we try to walk from here
I know you can walk on water
Can you walk on this much beer?
Home | Back to top

Down yonder green valley where streamlets meander,
When twilight is fading I pensively rove,
Or at the bright noontide in solitude wander
Amid the dark shades of the lonely ash grove.

'Tis there where the blackbird is cheerfully singing
Each warbler enchants with his note from the tree
Ah, then little think I of sorrow or sadness
The ash grove enchanting, spells beauty for me.

The ash grove, how graceful, how plainly 'tis speaking
The harp through it playing has language for me
Whenever the light through its branches is breaking
A host of kind faces is gazing on me;

The friends of my childhood again are before me
Each step wakes a memory as freely I roam;
With soft whispers laden it's leaves rustle o'er me,
The ash grove, the ash grove, alone is my home.
My laughter is over, my step loses lightness,
Old countryside measures fall soft on my ear.
Whenever I think on the past and its brightness,
The dear ones I mourn for again gather here.

From out of the shadows their loving looks greet me.
And wistfully searching the leafy green dome,
I find other faces, fond, bending to greet me.
The ash grove, the ash grove, alone is my home.
Home | Back to top

A touch of autumn fill the air
A tender softness everywhere
And golden mornings everywhere
Are calling,
Can you hear?

Chorus: Oh have you been to Avondale
And wandered in the lovely vale
Where tall trees whisper all the tale
Of Avondale's proud eagle

Where fame and ancient glory fate
Such was the land where he was laid
Like Christ was thirty pieces paid
For Avondale's proud eagle

Long years that green and lovely vale
Has nursed Parnell, our grandest Gael
And cursed the land that has betrayed
Fair Avondale's proud eagle
Home | Back to top

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
And days of auld lang syne, my dear,
And days of auld lang syne.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?

We twa hae run aboot the braes
And pu'd the gowans fine.
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld lang syne.
Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne,
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld lang syne.

We twa hae sported i' the burn,
From morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.
Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne.
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.

And ther's a hand, my trusty friend,
And gie's a hand o' thine;
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.