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that was really cool

Since thisis a right happy pub area full of barding harping and merriment, I full of many words but who says little here wishes to sing ye all a song of the blessed water of life that takes all from sorrow! Tis the song of BEER!!!!!

BEER BEER BEER tiddely BEER BEER BEER!

Along time ago, way back in history, when all there was to drink was nothin but cups of tea, along came a man but the name of Charlie Mops, and he invented a wonderful drink and he made it out of hops!

Hey!

Chourus

He must of been an admiral a sultan or a king, and to 'is praises we shall always sing, o look what he has done for us hes filled us up with cheer, lord bless charlie mops the man who invented beer beer beer tiddely beer beer beer

The Drunken rat the Aiken drum the Trowies pub as well, one thing ya can be sure of it charlies beer they sell so all ye lads and lassies at eleven o clock ye stop, and take 5 short seconds to remember charlie mops!

one....two.....three four five.... HEY!

He must of been an admiral a sultan or a king, and to 'is praises we shall always sing, o look what he has done for us hes filled us up with cheer, lord bless charlie mops the man who invented beer beer beer tiddely beer beer beer

A barrel of malts a bushel of hops ya stir it round with a stick, the kind of lubrication to make your engines tick! Fourty pints of whallop will keep the quacks away, its only 5 pence, alve penny and one in six in tax! HEY!

He must of been an admiral a sultan or a king, and to 'is praises we shall always sing, o look what he has done for us hes filled us up with cheer, lord bless charlie mops the man who invented beer beer beer tiddely beer beer beer tiddely beer beer beer!

THE LORD BLESS CHARLIE MOPS, HEY!!!!

(The sound of the instruments in the back ground halt suddenly and everyone cheers in praise!)

*begins to lay out food and drinks on tables that have been set up near the Addy's corner. Oberservers can see cookies, pies, hot chocolate, tea, and cider, among other delicious treats*

Happy holidays to you all. I usually try to do this sooner in the season, but it is something of a tradition of mine to lay out tasty goodies for everyone in the guild around the Yuletide season, and sing songs of a decidedly holiday-oriented nature, and encourage you all to share your favorites here as well!

For myself, there is one song I've always loved particularly well, and so it is the first I'll share for you this day. With any luck, I'll try and give you all a song every day, my own small gift to you of this guild. *bows*

Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about,
Deep and crisp and even.
Brightly shown the moon that night,
Though the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight,
Gathering winter fuel.

Hither, page, and stand by me.
If thou know it telling:
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence,
Underneath the mountain,
Right against the forest fence
By Saint Agnes fountain.

Bring me flesh, and bring me wine.
Bring me pine logs hither.
Thou and I will see him dine
When we bear the thither.
Page and monarch, forth they went,
Forth they went together
Through the rude wind's wild lament
And the bitter weather.

Sire, the night is darker now,
And the wind blows stronger.
Fails my heart, I know not how.
I can go no longer.
Ark my footsteps my good page,
Tread thou in them boldly:
Thou shalt find the winter's rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly.

In his master's step he trod,
Where the snow lay dented.
Heat was in the very sod
Which the saint had printed.
Therefore, Christian men, be sure,
Wealth or rank possessing,
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing.

Once again, happy holidays to you all, and feel free to help yourself to goodies, and share your favorite holiday songs. biggrin

do you live in ireland? i do, i live in cork. up the irish!!!

Ding dong! merrily on high,
In heav'n the bells are ringing:
Ding dong! verily the sky
Is riv'n with angel singing.
Gloria, Hosanna in excelsis!

E'en so here below, below,
Let steeple bells be swungen,
And "Io, io, io!"
By priest and people sungen.

Ding dong! merrily on high,
In heav'n the bells are ringing:
Ding dong! verily the sky
Is riv'n with angel singing.
Gloria, Hosanna in excelsis!

Pray you, dutifully prime
Your matin chime, ye ringers;
May you beautifully rime
Your evetime song, ye singers.

Ding dong! merrily on high,
In heav'n the bells are ringing:
Ding dong! verily the sky
Is riv'n with angel singing.
Gloria, Hosanna in excelsis!

*drinks some spiced cider*

My Irish Lit class is definitely providing me with some good stuff to give you guys here.

The Brightness of Brightness I saw in a lonely path,
Crystal of crystal, her blue eyes tinged with green,
Melody of melody, her speech not morose with age,
The ruddy and white appeared in her glowing cheeks.

Plaiting of plaiting in every hair her yellow locks,
That robbed the earth of its brilliancy by their full sweeping,
An ornament brighter than glass on her swelling breast,
Which was fashioned at her creation in the world above.

A tale of knowledge she told me, all lonely as she was,
News of the return of him to the place wich is his by kingly descent,
News of the destruction of the bands who expelled him,
And other tidings which, through sheer fear, I will not put in my lays.

Oh, folly of follies for me to go up close to her!
By the captive I was bound fast a captive;
As I implored the Son of Mary to aid me, she bounded from me,
And the maiden went off in a flash to the fairy mansion of Luachair.

I rush in mad race running with a bounding heart,
Through margins of a morass, through meads, through a barren moorland,
I reach the strong mansion - the way I came I know not -
That dwelling of dwellings, reared by wizard sorcery.

They burst into laughter, mockingly - a troop of wizards
And a band of maidens, trim, with plaited locks;
In the bondage of ftters they put me without much respite;
While to my maiden clung a clumsy, lubberly clown.

I told her then, in words the sincerest,
How it ill became her to be united to an awkward, sorry churl,
While the fiarest thrice over all the Scotic race
Was waiting to recieve her as his beauteous bride.

As she hears my voice she weeps through wounded pride,
The streams run down plenteously from her glowing cheeks,
She sends me with a guide for my safe conduct from the mansion,
She is the Brightness of Brightness I saw upon a lonely path.

Here's for you all. Happy St. Patrick's day, loves.

We may roam thro' this world, like a child at a feast,
Who but sips of a sweet, and then flies to the rest,
And when pleasure begins to grow dull in the east,
We may order our wings and be off to the west;
But if hearts that feel and eyes that smile,
Are the dearest gifts that heav'n supplies,
We never need leave our own green Isle,
For sensitive hearts and for sun bright eyes.

Chorus
Then remember where ever your goblet is crown'd,
Tho' this world whether eastward or westward you roam,
When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round,
Oh! remember the smile which adorns her at home.

In England the garden of beauty is kept
By a dragon of prudery plac'd within call;
But so oft this unamiable dragon has slept,
That the garden's but carelessly watched after all.
Oh! they want the wild sweet briary fence,
Which round the flow'rs of Erin dwells,
Which warms the touch, while winning the sense,
Nor charms us least when it most repels.

Chorus

In France, when the heart of a woman sets sail,
On the ocean of wedlock its fortune to try;
Love seldom goes far in a vessel so frail,
But pilots her off, and then bids her goodbye.
While the daughters of Erin keep the boy
Ever smiling beside his faithlful oar,
Thro' billows of woe and beams of joy
The same as he look'd when he left the shore.

Chorus

Thomas Moore (1779-1882) wrote these lyrics to the tune Garry Owen. It is also known as We May Roam Through This World (though I prefer calling it The Daughters of Erin).

Happy day, and everyone who is drinking, please be safe.