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This is a collection of songs and sketches put together over the years. These have been used at many shows and banquets. They are not serious medieval items, but rather inject a bit of humour into the proceedings. Some are copyright by others (mainly Monty Python) others are adaptations.
Contents
This is a poem written by Jeffrey Thomas, one of our members.
Its late in the evening,
and round a campfire we sit.
The fightings all done,
so we're ready to quit.
The carousing and drinking,
of which there's been much.
At the beer tent or campsite,
to a point that's such :-
That nobody cares,
what tomorrow will bring,
As long as its decent,
and just one more thing.
That life is for living,
not worry and stress.
When you join with a company,
called the B.P.A.S.
To the tune of "men of
harlech", using a full Welsh
male voice choir (if available otherwise do your best), preferably with
a background of Zulu
Celt chanting.
Men in armour stop your dreaming,
Can't you see their spear points gleaming
We will send them fucking screaming,
Armour wins the day!
Men in armour stand ye steady,
We shall be for ever ready,
We will make the grass all ruddy,
Armour will not fail!
We will crush and rend them,
When we descend upon them,
With shining blade, blazon wave We'll totally demoralise them,
And at the end of the day,
Victory once more our way,
So men in armour raise your tankards,
Armour wins the day.
To the tune of "men of
harlech", using a full Welsh
male voice choir (if available otherwise do your best), preferably with
a background of Zulu
Celt chanting.
Men of armour this your story,
How you bravely live for glory,
And you fight for freedom surely,
Battle of the brave.
You defend your castles tower,
To protect our barons bower,
As they brave the arrow shower,
Women for to save.
All the land awaking,
Hill and valley shaking,
Till the sound for miles around,
The enemies courage breaking.
Foes on every side advancing,
Riding forth with horses prancing,
You with valiant hearts entrancing,
Armour helps the day.
Though the foe is e'er attacking,
And the castle walls are cracking,
There is never courage lacking,
Fighting to the death.
Though your men are sick and dying,
Their hangovers make them crying,
In their heads their brains are frying,
Someone fetch more BEER!
All the helmets ringing,
Every sword a'singing,
As you fight with all your might,
To faith and hope you're clinging.
With the foe towards you leaping,
You your valiant stance are keeping,
All the knight are with you slaying,
Armour shall not die!
To the tune of "The Wild Rover"
I've been a re-enacter for many a year,
And I've spent all my money on weapons and gear
But now I'm returning, battle weary and sore
And I swear that I'l not re-enact any more.
Chorus:
And It's no, nay, never,no, nay, never, no more
Will I be a re-enacter,
No never, no more.
I've Seen many Battles, I've Seen many fights
I've slept on the ground, known many sleepless knights
I've fallen in rivers, I've fallen in mud
Been hit on the head and got covered in blood.
CHORUS
With my pack overloaded, I wait for the train
It's freezing and dark and its started to rain
With my gear in the guardsvan, I ask am I sane
I'll tell you right now, I won't do this again.
CHORUS
But when I get home and I crawl into bed
Feeling so tired that I wish I was dead
I look at my gear lying thrown on the ground
and can't wait 'till the next battle day comes around.
Taken from the Monty Python film " Monty Python and the Holy Grail" which is required viewing within the society
We're Knights of the Round Table,
We dance when e'er we're able,
We do routines and chorus scenes
with footwork impeccable.
We dine well here in Camelot.
We eat ham and jam and Spam a lot.
We're Knights of the Round Table,
Our shows are formidable,
But many times, we're given to rhymes
that are quite unsingable
We're opera-mad in Camelot,
We sing from the diaphragm a l...o...o...o...t
In war we're tough and able,
Quite indefatigable,
Between our quests, we sequin vests
and impersonate Clark Gable.
Its a busy life in Camelot,
I have to push the pram a lot.
Adapted from a certain Monty python sketch concerning a dead parrot.
1 = Customer
2 = squire shop assistant
1 - I wish to register a complaint, hello Miss?
2 - What do you mean miss?
1 - I'm sorry I have a cold, I wish to make a complaint.......
2 - I'm sorry we're closed for lunch......
1 - Never mind that my lad, I wish to make a complaint about this here Squire wot I bought not an half hour ago from this here boutique.
2- Ah yes, the um, the Midland Blue Surcoated. What's er, what's wrong with him?
1 - I'll tell you what's wrong with him my lad, he's dead! Thet's what's wrong with him.
2 - No, no, he's resting
1 -Look matey, I know a dead squire when I see one, and I'm looking at one right know!
2 - No, no, he's not dead he's resting. Remarkable Squire the Midland Blue, beautiful physique.
1 -Physique don't enter into it , he's stone dead.
2 - Na, na, he's er resting.
1 - Alright then if he's resting, I'll wake him up.
HELLO SQUIRE!!!!!!! I've got a nice beer for you.
2 - (Nudge table)
He moved!
1 - No he didn't, you hit him.
2 - No I didn't.
1 - Yes you did.
Hello Squire, wakey wakey <hit squires head on table>
This is your nine o'clock alarm call. Bang Table
Now that is what I call a dead Squire.
2 - He's stunned.
1 - Stunned?
2 - Yes, you stunned him just as he was waking up, Squires stun easily.
1 - Now look , don't play the slippery fella with me, that squire is definitely deceased, and when purchasing him not half an hour ago you assured me that his total lack of movement was due to him being tired and worn out after a long night on the beer.
2 - Well he's pining for the battle.
1 - Pining for the battle, what kind of talk is that? and why did he fall flat on his back the moment I got him to my castle?
2 - The Midland Blue prefers kipping on his back, remarkable Squire, eh Sir Knight, beautiful physique
1 - Look tosh! I took the liberty of examining this squire when I got home and the only reason he was upright was due to a polearm up his back.
2 - Of course he had a polearm up his back, if I hadn't put it there he would have been straight over you castle walls, vroom!!!!!
1 - Vroom?
2 - Vroom!
1 - Mate, this squire wouldn't vroom if you stuck a red hot poker up he's bum , he's bleeding demised!
2 - No, no, its pining.
1 - He's not Pining, he's...,he's past on, this squire is no more. He has ceased to be, he has expired and gone to meet his maker. He is a stiff. Bereft of life he rests in peace, if you hadn't nailed him to his horse he be pushing up the daisy's. He's off the boil. He's curled up his tootsies, he's shuffled off this mortal coil, he's run down the curtain to join the bleeding choir invisible. He's fucking snuffed it. Viz a vi the metabolic processes he's had his lot. All statements to the effect that this squire is still a going concern are from now on inoperative. This is an Ex-Squire.
2 - Well......, well I'd better replace it then.
1 - If you want anything done on this country you got to scream until you're blue in the face. What's the news
2 - Well I've had a look around the back and we are right out of squires.
1 - I see, I see, I get the picture.
2 - I've got an archer.
1 - Does it disappear when its time to armour up?
2 - Yep!
1 - Right I'll have that one then.
I thank you
(a customer walks in the door.)
Customer: Good Morning.
Owner: Good morning, Sir. Welcome to the National Armour Emporium!
Customer: Ah, thank you, my good man.
Owner: What can I do for you, Sir?
C: Well, I was, uh, sitting in the Ale House on Thurmon Street just now, skimming through "Chainmail weekly" by Hugh Heffner, and I suddenly came over all unencumbered.
O: unencumbered, sir?
C: light weight.
O: Eh?
C: 'Ee, Ah wor 'unarmoured-loike!
O: Ah, unarmoured!
C: In a nutshell. And I thought to myself, "a little tempered steel will do the trick," so, I curtailed my heffnering activites, sallied forth, and infiltrated your place of purveyance to negotiate the vending of some metallic acotrements!
O: Come again?
C: I want to buy some armour.
O: Oh, I thought you were complaining about the Lute player!
C: Oh, heaven forbid: I am one who delights in all manifestations of the Terpsichorean muse!
O: Sorry?
C: 'Ooo, Ah lahk a nice tune, 'yer forced too!
O: So he can go on playing, can he?
C: Most certainly! Now then, some armour please, my good man.
O: (lustily) Certainly, sir. What would you like?
C: Well, eh, how about a little red Brigendine.
O: I'm, a-fraid we're fresh out of red Brigendines, sir.
C: Oh, never mind, how are you on Tassets?
O: I'm afraid we never have them at the end of the week, sir, we get them fresh on Monday.
C: Tish tish. No matter. Well, stout yeoman, a pair of plates , if you please.
O: Ah! They've been on order, sir, for two weeks. Was expecting some this morning.
C: 'T's Not my lucky day, is it? Aah, basinet?
O: Sorry, sir.
C: Red Casque?
O: Normally, sir, yes. Today the cart broke down.
C: Ah. Sallet?
O: Sorry.
C: Enarme? Greaves?
O: No.
C: Any Norweigan Scale, per chance.
O: No.
C: Lamellar?
O: No.
C: Mail Brayette?
O: No.
C: White Sabattons?
O: No.
C: Danish Mail?
O: No.
C: Double Pieces
O: No.
C: Culet? (Rump defence, extension of backplate)
O: No.
C: Dorset Blued Couter?
O: No.
C: Beasague, Rerebrace, Placard, Portugese Sallat, Splint Greaves, skirt of lames, Cod-piece, Breast Plate, Bishops Mantle?
O: No.
C: Chainmail Hauberk, perhaps?
O: Ah! We have a chainmail Hauberk, yessir.
C: (suprised) You do! Excellent.
O: Yessir. It's..ah,.....it's a bit rusty...
C: Oh, I like it rusty.
O: Well,.. It's very rusty, actually, sir.
C: No matter. Fetch hither the Foe-of-swords! Mmmwah!
O: I...think it's a bit rustier than you'll like it, sir.
C: I don't care how fucking rusty it is. Hand it over with all speed.
O: Oooooooooohhh........!
C: What now?
O: Its rusty away to nothing.
C: Has it.
O: Yes, sir.
(pause)
C: Gauntlets?
O: No.
C: Espalier? (light shoulder defense of lames)
O: No.
C: Chausse? (mail legs)
O: No.
C: Blacked Aventail?
O: No.
C: Japanese Samuri Helmet?
O: No, sir.
C: You...do *have* some armour, don't you?
O: (brightly) Of course, sir. It's an armour shop, sir. We've got--
C: No no... don't tell me. I'm keen to guess.
O: Fair enough.
C: Uuuuuh, SpagenHelm.
O: Yes?
C: Ah, well, I'll have one of them!
O: Oh! I thought you were talking to me, sir. Mister Spagenhelm, that's my name.
(pause)
C: Greek Corinthiun?
O: Uh, not as such.
C: Uuh, Gorget?
O: no
C: Barbute,
O: no
C: Morion?
O: no
C: Poleyn,
O: no
C: Danish Brassard, (Arm armour)
O: no
C: Czech shinbald,
O: no
C: Venezuelan Blued Beaver?
O: Not *today*, sir, no.
(pause)
C: Aah, how about a Chapel-de-fer?
O: Well, we don't get much call for them around here, sir.
C: Not much ca--It's the single most popular armour in the world!
O: Not 'round here, sir.
C: and what IS the most popular armour 'round hyah?
O: Armet , sir.
C: IS it.
O: Oh, yes, it's staggeringly popular in this manor squire.
C: Is it.
O: It's our number one best seller, sir!
C: I see. Uuh...Armet , eh?
O: Right, sir.
C: All right. Okay.'Have you got any?' he asked, expecting the answer 'no'.
O: I'll have a look, sir... nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnno.
C: It's not much of a armour shop, is it?
O: Finest in the district!
C: (annoyed) Explain the logic underlying that conclusion, please.
O: Well, it's so clean, sir!
C: It's certainly uncontaminated by armour....
O: (brightly) You haven't asked me about a Great helm, sir.
C: Would it be worth it?
O: Could be....
C: Have you --SHUT THAT BLOODY LUTE OFF!
O: Told you sir....
C: (slowly) Have you got a great helm?
O: No.
C: Figures. Predictable, really I suppose. It was an act of purest optimism to have posed the question in the first place. Tell me:
O: Yessir?
C: (deliberately) Have you in fact got any armour here at all.
O: Yes,sir.
C: Really?(pause)
O: No. Not really, sir.
C: You haven't.
O: Nosir. Not a scrap. I was deliberately wasting your time,sir.
C: Well I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to shoot you.
O: Right-0, sir.
The customer takes out a crossbow and shoots the owner.
C: What a *senseless* waste of human life.
