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The Bonnie Ship Red Arrow

Based on The Bonnie Ship the Diamond (trad.)
Laird Colyne Stewart, 2006

Lyrics

The Red Arrow is a ship me lads,
For the Eastern Straits she’s bound
And the Rouge Port is all garnished
With lads and lassies round
Captain Stewart gives the order
To sail the oceans wide
Where the sun it never sets me lads
Nor darkness dims the sky.

And it’s cheer up, me lads
Let your hearts never tire,
For the bonnie ship Red Arrow
Goes a-hunting for the tygre!

Along the quay at Colynesburg
Lads and lassies stand around
Wi’ their cloaks all pulled about them
And the salt tears runnin’ down
Oh don’t you weep, my bonnie lass,
Though you be left behind
For the trillium will grow on Silfern Mere’s ice
Afore we change our mind.

And it’s cheer up, me lads
Let your hearts never tire,
For the bonnie ship Red Arrow
Goes a-hunting for the tygre!

Here’s a health to the Jaunty Troll,
Likewise the Lord Raffe’s Game
Here’s a health to the Eiriksdrakkar
And the Red Arrow ship of fame
We wear the trousers of the white
And the jackets of the green
When we return to Rouge Port,
We’ll hae our sweethearts again.

And it’s cheer up, me lads
Let your hearts never tire,
For the bonnie ship Red Arrow
Goes a-hunting for the tygre!

It’ll be bright both day and night
When the Silfern Mere lads come hame
Wi’ a ship full o’ Eastern gold
And glory to our name
We’ll make the cradles for to rock
And the blankets for to tear
For the lusty crew o’ the Red Arrow
Are home again no fear!

And it’s cheer up, me lads
Let your hearts never tire,
For the bonnie ship Red Arrow
Goes a-hunting for the tygre!

 

Aweigh, Saint Cris

Based on Aweigh, Santy Ano (trad.)
Laird Colyne Stewart, 2002
Saint Cris (or more accurately, Saint Crispinus) is the patron saint of Ardchreag.

Lyrics

From Ardchreag we’re bound away,
Heave aweigh (Heave aweigh!) Saint Cris.
Around Cape Boar to Dragon Bay,
We’re bound for Pennsic’s bliss.

So Heave her up and away we’ll go,
Heave aweigh (Heave aweigh!) Saint Cris.
Heave her up and away we’ll go,
We’re bound for Pennsic’s bliss.

She’s a fast frigate ship and a bully crew,
Heave aweigh (Heave aweigh!) Saint Cris.
An up-north Scot for her captain, too.
We’re bound for Pennsic’s bliss.

So Heave her up and away we’ll go,
Heave aweigh (Heave aweigh!) Saint Cris.
Heave her up and away we’ll go,
We’re bound for Pennsic’s bliss.

Back in the days of Forty AS,
Heave aweigh (Heave aweigh!) Saint Cris.
Those were the days of the good excess,
Way out in Pennsic’s bliss.

So Heave her up and away we’ll go,
Heave aweigh (Heave aweigh!) Saint Cris.
Heave her up and away we’ll go,
We’re bound for Pennsic’s bliss.

There’s plenty of gold, so I’ve been told,
Heave aweigh (Heave aweigh!) Saint Cris.
Plenty of gold so I’ve been told
Way out in Pennsic’s bliss.

So Heave her up and away we’ll go,
Heave aweigh (Heave aweigh!) Saint Cris.
Heave her up and away we’ll go,
We’re bound for Pennsic’s bliss.

When I leave ship I’ll fight for the Crown,
Heave aweigh (Heave aweigh!) Saint Cris.
For my kingdom I’ll win renown,
Way out in Pennsic’s bliss.

So Heave her up and away we’ll go,
Heave aweigh (Heave aweigh!) Saint Cris.
Heave her up and away we’ll go,
We’re bound for Pennsic’s bliss.

 

The A-Song

by Colyne Stewart and Thorfinna gra’feldr, 2002

(based on ‘Hey, Hey, the Wolves Will Bay’, better known as ‘The E-Song’, by Master Hector of the Black Height)

I’ll sing you one-o,
Hey, hey, the Chreaggers say,
What is your one-o?
One for the cliffs of Ardchreag that ever more shall be so.

I’ll sing you two-o,
Hey, hey, the Chreaggers say,
What is your two-o?
Two-two, myself and you, we wave our banner proudly
and one for the cliffs of Ardchreag that ever more shall be so.

I’ll sing you three-o,
Hey, hey, the Chreaggers say,
What is your three-o?
Three-three for our newbies (whoop!)
Two-two, myself and you, we wave our banner proudly
and one for the cliffs of Ardchreag that ever more shall be so.

I’ll sing you four-o,
Hey, hey, the Chreaggers say,
What is your four-o?
Four for our olde pharte veterans
Three-three for our newbies (whoop!)
Two-two, myself and you, we wave our banner proudly
and one for the cliffs of Ardchreag that ever more shall be so.

I’ll sing you five-o,
Hey, hey, the Chreaggers say,
What is your five-o?
Five for the green bison
Four for our olde pharte veterans
Three-three for our newbies (whoop!)
Two-two, myself and you, we wave our banner proudly
and one for the cliffs of Ardchreag that ever more shall be so.

I’ll sing you six-o,
Hey, hey, the Chreaggers say,
What is your six-o?
Six for the bread ball battles
Five for the green bison
Four for our olde pharte veterans
Three-three for our newbies (whoop!)
Two-two, myself and you, we wave our banner proudly
and one for the cliffs of Ardchreag that ever more shall be so.

I’ll sing you seven-o,
Hey, hey, the Chreaggers say,
What is your seven-o?
Seven for the flying turtles
Six for the bread ball battles
Five for the green bison
Four for our olde pharte veterans
Three-three for our newbies (whoop!)
Two-two, myself and you, we wave our banner proudly
and one for the cliffs of Ardchreag that ever more shall be so.

I’ll sing you eight-o,
Hey, hey, the Chreaggers say,
What is your eight-o?
Eight for the armour workshops
Seven for the flying turtles
Six for the bread ball battles
Five for the green bison
Four for our olde pharte veterans
Three-three for our newbies (whoop!)
Two-two, myself and you, we wave our banner proudly
and one for the cliffs of Ardchreag that ever more shall be so.

I’ll sing you nine-o,
Hey, hey, the Chreaggers say,
What is your nine-o?
Nine for our corps of archers
Eight for the armour workshops
Seven for the flying turtles
Six for the bread ball battles
Five for the green bison
Four for our olde pharte veterans
Three-three for our newbies (whoop!)
Two-two, myself and you, we wave our banner proudly
and one for the cliffs of Ardchreag that ever more shall be so.

I’ll sing you ten-o,
Hey, hey, the Chreaggers say,
What is your ten-o?
Ten for the Great Bonfire
Nine for our corps of archers
Eight for the armour workshops
Seven for the flying turtles
Six for the bread ball battles
Five for the green bison
Four for our olde pharte veterans
Three-three for our newbies (whoop!)
Two-two, myself and you, we wave our banner proudly
and one for the cliffs of Ardchreag that ever more shall be so.

 

 

The Geld of the Hose

On Wednesday, September 18, 2002, a group from Ardchreag descended upon the neutral Canton of Skeldergate, with spear thumping, banners blowing and horn sounding We had come to pay a geld. For you see, this past August at Pennsic War we did find ourselves in a dilemma. No one from our Canton who was staying until the last Sunday of War had room in their wagon to transport the many lengths of aqueduct we had purchased to bring fresh water to our part of the swamp. Reluctantly, we had to ask someone outside of our group to shoulder this burden. Lord Streonwald Wulfesbana, and Lady Seonag nicThomais, did accept this task. They did dig up the aqueduct and pack it in their wagon. They did transport it through three Kingdoms, one of whom we were at War with. Many times were they forced to pay taxes and duties along the road. Many times did they beat off bandits intent on stealing our portable water relocation equipment.

Finally, they arrived home in Ealdormere. For a month did they wait for a missive from a representative of Ardchreag to arrange to pick up the aqueduct. They waited in vain.

So, Seonag did send a demand for a geld, or ransom, to Ardchreag’s seneschal, who did inform me of the matter. Immediately I did contact the good Lady to rectify this matter, and agreed to the geld. Ardchreag members came out in force to support this venture including: Mahault and Berend van der Eych, who supplied mead, apples, cookies, a silk purse full of chocolate coins, and home made soap; Thorfinna gra’feldr and myself, who supplied a framed version of poems written in their honour, beer and cider; Iolanda de Albornoz, who supplied mead; William the Younger, who supplied a medieval teddy bear and Ivanna the Oblvious, who supplied some truly tasty brownies. I decorated a cardboard box to transport the geld, which was then carried in a wicker basket. Upon the box I had written the following in Anglo-Saxon Runes:

Negligent are we

Hose forgetting we

Grateful are we

Forgiving are you

Gift accepting are you

Friends are we

Thorfinna led the way into the Skeldergate meeting, blowing on a sounding horn, while Mahault carried the Ardchreag spear and I the Ardchreag war banner. Behind us came Berend and Eirik Andersen labouring under the weight of our offerings.

Seonag was taken aback by the generosity of Ardchreag, and by the talent of our members, as many of the items were hand made. The cookies and brownies were passed about and enjoyed by all. It was remarked by more than one gentle that when Ardchreag does something we don’t stop halfway.

Unfortunately, Seonag had forgotten the hose! She offered us one of Wat’s fighting gloves, which he had left at War, as a token of the hose’s return the next time we came to Skeldergate. We agreed to this, as long as if the hose was forgotten again, Seonag and Streonwald would instead transport it back to Pennsic next year.

 

 

The Story of how the Ardchreag Standard was Lost, and of how it was Found Again

Colyne Stewart, November A.S. XXXVI

Not so long ago a great celebration was held in the Canton of der Welfengeu. People from all corners of the Kingdom of Ealdormere, and some from beyond, travelled tot he Land of the Ram to attend. Many folk from the Canton of Ardchreag attended, partaking in various activities and having a jolly time. When it became time to serve feast, the Chreaggers departed, for there were no free seats in the Hall.

As it was the birthday of one of their number, the pilgrims decided to stop at the Inn of the Jackass to celebrate. They loaded their wagons and set off down the highways towards Kytchener, where said inn was located.

Upon arriving, the members of the lead wagon were informed by the others that something had fallen from their load. The others, afraid of becoming seperated if they stopped to investigate, had left the object lying on the road.

Searching their wagon, the Chreaggers found that their standard, and a metal joint from its pole, was missing.

Not wanting the lost standard to stop the birthday celebrations, Stephen Scrymgeour and Thorfinna gra’feldr volunteered to go back in search. The others went into the inn and ordered food and drink, Colyne Stewart nervously pulling at his beard.

The road was dark and deserted as the Scot and Norse woman made their way back towards the Hall. They spent the time in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. When they got close to their destination they stepped down from their wagon, swinging torches left and right, one searching each side of the road.

The ground was muddy, and a mist was rising, making their search difficult. To make matters worse, they could hear howling in the trees nearby.

Going still, Stephen called out to Thorfinna, and she ran to his side. Sitting ten feet away at the edge of the woods, the standard in its jaws, was a tygre. It growled at them, then turned intot he woods and ran. Not hesitating a second, the two Chreaggers charged after it, Stephen freeing his dirk, Thorfinna clutching her axe.

Brambles and thorns ripped at their legs, and Stephen was thankful he had not worn a kilt that day. After a long chase, they treed the tygre, who growled from its perch, shaking the tree as if daring them to climb up after it. Putting his dirk between his teeth, Stephen, who was wise in the ways of lumbermen, began to do just that.

When he got close to the creature he could hear howling from below the tree, but he did not dare take his eyes from the tygre to see what was transpiring. He slowly advanced on the tygre, careful of where he placed his feet, taking the blade from his mouth. The tygre sat still, not moving, not seeming even to breath, until suddenly it lunged.

Stephen whipped up the dirk as the beast crashed into him. They both tumbled fromt he tree, crashing through the branches, and Stephen managed to turn himself so when they hit the ground, he landed on top of the great cat. His breath was knocked from his lungs, and he gasped painfully as he laboured to breath. Hands grabbed him and hauled him to his feet and he discovered that the tygre had been slain. Looking about he saw the carcasses of many garwolves. When he looked questioningly at Thorfinna, the Norse just smiled.

Bending down, Stephen freed the standard from the tygre’s jaws. Other than a fray of two, the standrard was fine, though the force of the tygre’s jaws had bent the metal joint.

Returning triumphantly tot he inn, they proudly displayed the standard tot hei fellows who were all greatly relieved (especially Colyne). The celebrations that followed went long into the night.

(This story, like so many tales, is based in fact. It is true that after Scotchtoberfest on Nov. 3, 2001, many members of the populace of Ardchreag stopped at Kitchener to celebrate a birthday at Jack Astor’s. Upon arriving they did indeed discover that the canton’s standard had been left on top of tone of the vehicles and had fallen off somewhere long the way. Food having already been ordered, Stephen and Thorfinna went back alone to look for it, and did indeed recover it. It had been run over by a car, but the metal joint that it had been packed with had saved it, taking the brunt of the punishment upon itself.)