Rambling Rover
Oh, there's many that feign enjoyment
for merciless employment
Their mission was this deployment from the minute they left the
school
And they save and scrape and ponder,
While the rest go out and squander
See the world and rove and wander and they're happier as a rule.
Chorus
O there's sober men aplenty,
And drunkards barely twenty
There are men of o'er ninety who have ne'er yet kissed a girl;
But gie me the ramblin' rover,
From Orkney down to Dover
We will roam the country over
And together we'll face the world.
I've roamed through all the nations,
Tae'n delight in all creation
And enjoyed a wee sensation when the company did prove kind.
And when partin' was no pleasure,
I've drunk another measure
To the good friends that we treasure for they always are in our
minds.
For the lassies young and sprightly,
Oh them I courted nightly
Where stayin' wasn't likely, for I ramble up and down;
'Cause life it would be hearty,
I'd dance at every party,
Meet ramblin' Dan McCarthy and we'll all go on the town!
And when troubles do befall me,
To the high road I do haul me
Rovin' Johnny's what they call me, tis me blessin' and me curse.
Though my hard times have been many,
I'll take a drink with any
Till I spend my last wee penny and they come for me in a hearse.
Now you're bent up with arthritis;
Your bowels have got Colitis;
You've got gallopin' bollockolitis and you're thinkin' it's time
ye died...
If you've been a man of action,
though you're lyin' there in traction,
Ye will gain some satisfaction thinkin' "Guxx, at least I tried!"
The Swallow and the Rose
Catherine duFay
The swallow lit beside the rose, to rest her for a time,
Secure within the shelter of the bracken intertwined.
But when she sought to rise again to reach another tree,
The thorny branches caught her wings and would not set her free,
my lord, and would not set her free.
A wall of daggers ringed her 'round, she could not find her
way.
A thorny circlet caught her there, compelling her to stay.
And one great needle found her there, and, true as any dart,
Impaled her through her tender breast and pierced her to
the heart,
my lord, and pierced her to the heart.
And as it was with her, my lord, just so it is with me;
I love a man who does not feel the same regard for me.
And all the hopes within my breast, they die their deaths
stillborn;
A swallow struggles in my eyes, and in my heart a thorn,
my lord, and in my heart a thorn.
The Tourney Widow
by Catherine du Fay
My lord, he is a fighting man, he labors on the field
With battle axes, florentine, or maybe sword and shield.
"I have to go to fight," says he, "to keep the oath I swore.
I swear I could not love you so, loved I not honor more.
I swear I could not love you so, loved I not honor more.
He wears my scarf upom his throat to teach him to be bold;
It also comes in handy when the fighting field gets cold.
I haven't seen the man in months, he must have found a
war.
I guess that he must love me still, though he loves honor
more.
I guess that he must love me still, though he loves honor
more.
So, while he swelters in the sun, I'll sit here in the shade --
A Cavalier on either side, a glass of lemonade,
And let them both be good to me, 'cause that's what men
are for...
I could not love my lord so well, loved he not honor more!
I could not love my lord so well, loved he not honor more!
Life By The Sword
-Traditional
William in his castle lay, Sword and Shield beside him
A lovely Lady at his side, but alas he lay there dying
Far away the sounds were heard, the screams of men and fighting
The ring of steel rang through the air, his castle lay in ruins
Closing his eyes he lay back his head, clutching his Lady to him
And he Dreamed a last Dream of an age that might come
When the sword would be laid down for good
His Lady washed away the dirt, on his face, from the dust of battle
But even her tender gentleness, did ought to soothe her sorrow
In the courtyard below, the enemy swarmed, in droves of hundreds to
thousands
Destroying resistance wherever it came, the battle would soon be over
Life by the Sword is noble at best, But higher is the price you pay
And the one who will win is the one who's named Death
Till the Sword is laid down for good
Now all that stands of his castle today, is a pile of stones and rubble
The bones of the men have long since decayed, their glories been
forgotten
Life by the Sword is noble at best, but higher is the price you pay
And the one who will win is the one who's named Death
Till the Sword is laid down for good.
Forget
There are bonds so strong that no one can not sever them.
Ties that do not succumb to the ravages of time.
Stones that will not wash away in the hurricane.
Together they form an edifice no flood can destroy.
A home in which lasting relationships are nourished and families are
formed.
A family of relatives, friends, lifemates, children, community,
country.
And every residence is different.
Some are so snug only two contented souls may squeeze in
And others so vast a multitude may reside in comfort.
Some are so solidly built that no one else may enter,
While others sway in the breeze as rooms are added with happy abandon.
One would expect these structures to collapse, but they don't.
Not when their ties are so strong.
But even the strongest of homes can be weakened.
Not by the cataclysmic raging of storms whose battering may only
strengthen bonds,
But by the little hidden assaults that chip away at the structure
leaving its occupants unaware of imminent collapse.
There are times when love is not enough.
Or loyalty. Or trust. Or honor. Or forgiveness.
Or any of the other building blocks that form strong relationships and
meld families.
There are times when the only way to keep a home standing is simply to
forget.
Broken In Two
by Silk
Two Halves of one whole
How do you mend a broken soul
Coldest nights are those spent alone
When a once warm heart is now hard stone
A circle perfect and complete
Unmarred by touch or white hot heat
Now damaged, now fractured in two parts
Just as shattered as your heart
You miss the touches and crave the sighs
Of a love so strong that all men cry
Two halves of one whole
Who will mend your broken soul