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Unto the Most Worthy Reader doth Brother Ignominious send Greetings...
The Newby's Song


...and these missives to reveal unto you the true, dark and dangerous character of one Gunnar Redbeard, self-styled Bard, bon vivant,  licenced freebooter and scurulous ne'er-do-well, who, to this humble scribe's Great Misfortune, also bears the title of my Master.
To the tune of the Star Spangled Banner
in the key of Horribly Hung Over


Behold your typical plain-vanilla 11th century Norse mercinary soldier.  Yawn. As he does command me to write down his drivvelous blatherings, here then (with profound appologies) are the words of Lord Gunnar...
by,
Gunnar Redbeard
 
Oh, say did you see where I went to last night?
Or the people I met?  Or the stuff I was drinking?
I'm as sick as a dog, and my head is too tight,
for it seems I went out and got thoroughly stinking!
 
And the people come round, even some wearing crowns,
to applaud last night's show and to see if I drowned.
Oh, tell me that it's a bad dream or a joke it really poor taste.
For I don't recall a thing.  What a miserable waste.
 
Oh, say it's not true, all the stories I hear,
for I'm not sure I'm thrilled with my new reputation.
Through the campground we cruised, mixing vodka and beer,
and we partied all night to complete dissipation.
 
And the night watch took care, both amused and despared,
to guild be back home, but I know not from where.
Oh, tell me that it's a bad dream, or a joke in really poor taste.
For I don't recall a thing.   What a miserable waste!


----
----


I got my start in Caid lo these many years agone, (in AS XV, in fact), where I became something of a Bard of immodest note.   From there, I moved to Calontir, thereafter to the Midrealm, and now here to the sunny shores of Puget Fjord.   Time and circumstances have cut into my eventery, but I still have many fond memories of life in Society, and as thin as the thread has spun at times, it has never entirely snapped.   I thought I would set up this page (if I am doing this right - I come from a pre-technical culture, after all) to offer you some of my bardic from years gone by, since I am not able to get out all that easily any more.   These works are free for all to enjoy, and I ask only the traditional Bard's credit as the source.   (That, and the movie rights.)
This Old Garb
 
by,
Gunnar Redbeard
 
This old garb is a faithful friend, an old soft shoe and a stylish kit.
It has served for years through thick and thin...I really ought to finish it.
Has it been so long since that first Crown?  It's seen tourneys, courts and wars.
I've gained ten years and twenty pounds, it scarcely fits me any more.
They keep me jumping, Heaven knows, and my time is always better spent.
But with closets full of fancy clothes, it's becoming an embarassment.
Those pins weren't meant to last so long, that duct tape's finally oozing through,
and that trim I quickly stapled on could also use a stitch or two.
There's no excuse for me to wait!  I'll get it done this Saturday,
and whip it up in proper shape before the fabric wears away.
Yes, time has come to make an end (and loose the seams a little bit).
This old garb is a faithful friend.  I really ought to finish it.


----
----
(Sob)  Ah, me.  Enough for now.  My Master commands me to transscribe some of his disreputable blatherings which he styles as poetry, so I shall bid the fair reader Adeau for the moment.

Revision as of 02:02, 4 September 2008

The Newby's Song

To the tune of the Star Spangled Banner in the key of Horribly Hung Over

by, Gunnar Redbeard

Oh, say did you see where I went to last night? Or the people I met? Or the stuff I was drinking? I'm as sick as a dog, and my head is too tight, for it seems I went out and got thoroughly stinking!

And the people come round, even some wearing crowns, to applaud last night's show and to see if I drowned. Oh, tell me that it's a bad dream or a joke it really poor taste. For I don't recall a thing. What a miserable waste.

Oh, say it's not true, all the stories I hear, for I'm not sure I'm thrilled with my new reputation. Through the campground we cruised, mixing vodka and beer, and we partied all night to complete dissipation.

And the night watch took care, both amused and despared, to guild be back home, but I know not from where. Oh, tell me that it's a bad dream, or a joke in really poor taste. For I don't recall a thing. What a miserable waste!

This Old Garb

by, Gunnar Redbeard

This old garb is a faithful friend, an old soft shoe and a stylish kit. It has served for years through thick and thin...I really ought to finish it. Has it been so long since that first Crown? It's seen tourneys, courts and wars. I've gained ten years and twenty pounds, it scarcely fits me any more. They keep me jumping, Heaven knows, and my time is always better spent. But with closets full of fancy clothes, it's becoming an embarassment. Those pins weren't meant to last so long, that duct tape's finally oozing through, and that trim I quickly stapled on could also use a stitch or two. There's no excuse for me to wait! I'll get it done this Saturday, and whip it up in proper shape before the fabric wears away. Yes, time has come to make an end (and loose the seams a little bit). This old garb is a faithful friend. I really ought to finish it.

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