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SONG:Woad & Men of Harlock

On Fri, 16 Jun 1995 rsteele@istlab.com wrote:

> greetings Xavier
> do you do requests?  How about the SCA song Woad ( and the verses for Men 
> of Harlick(?) whoes tune is used by woad) that I barely recall from about 
> 20 years ago.
> Shinawassee Magnuson

Yes I do respond to and welcome requests
 This is #3 & #4 of a series of weekly song posts which I will
 be posting until someone complains or I run out of songs.


 Woad of Harlech                                                SONG

      What's the use of wearing braces,
      Hats, or spats, or shoes with laces,
      Vests and pants you buy in places,
      Down on Broughampton Road?

      What's the use of shirts of cotton,
      Studs that always get forgotten,
      These affairs are simply rotten!
      Better far is woad!

         Woad's the stuff to show men,
         Woad to scare your foemen!
         Boil it to a brilliant blue
         And rub it on your legs and your abdomen!

         Ancient Britons never hit on
         Anything as good as woad to fit on
         Necks or knees or where you sit on,
         Tailors, you'd be blowed!

      Romans came across the Channel
      All dressed up in tin and flannel;
      Half a pint of woad per man-o
      Clothed us more than these!

      Saxons, you may save your stitches
      Building beds for bugs in britches.
      We have woad to clothe us which is
      Not a nest for fleas.

         Romans, keep your armors,
         Saxons, your pajamas!
         Hairy coats were made for goats,
         Gorillas, yaks, retriever dogs, and llamas!

         March on, Snowdon, with your woad on,
         Never mind if you get rained or snowed on.
         Never need a button sewed on,
         Good for us today!

              Men Of Harlech                                         Page 12

         See the glares of fire like hell there,
         Tongues of flame that writhe and swell there.
         Brave men strike with full-voiced yell there:
         Forward with all might.
         Armor clashing, cries of foemen,
         Hear the chieftains urgin' "On men!"
         Thunder of the charging horsemen
         Echo height on height.
         Arfon sings for ever
         Of her might and glory.
         Wales will be as Wales has been,
         So great in freedom's story!
         Those fires light up the sacrifices;
         Cry of a dying Welshman rises.
         In the cause of freedom's crisis
         Bravest men must fight.

         We'll not die, be conquered never.
         Harlech, Harlech lives for ever
         Freedom's from the Greatest Giver,
         Freedom is our good.
         See how Welshmen shouting run down
         From the mountains they do come down
         Like a storm that strikes at sundown
         Boil up like a flood.
         Welshmen's strength has made her
         Freedom's strong crusader.
         Swords of Welshmen have cut deep
         The hearts of the invader.
         The sword is met by sword replying,
         Steel by steel on strength relying;
         See where Gwalia's flag is flying,
         Freedom's in her blood!

         Hark!  I hear the foe advancing
         Barbed steeds are proudly prancing;
         Helmets, in the sunbeams glancing,
         Glitter through the trees.
         Men of Harlech, lie ye dreaming?
         See ye not their falchions gleaming,
         While their pennons gaily streaming
         Flutter in the breeze?
         From the rocks rebounding,
         Let the war-cry sounding
         Summon all at Cambria's call,
         The haughty foe surrounding.
         Men of Harlech, on to glory!
         See your banner famed in story
         Waves these burning word before ye,
         "Britain scorns to yield!"

         'Mid the fray, see dead and dying,
         Friend and foe together lying;
         All around the arrows flying
         Scatter sudden death!
         Frightened steeds are wildly neighing,
         Brazen trumpets hoarsely braying,
         Wounded men for mercy praying
         With their parting breath!
         See---they're in disorder!
         Comrades, keep close order!
         Ever they shall rue the day
         They ventured o're the border!
         Now the Saxon flees before us;
         Victory's banner floateth o'er us!
         Raise the loud, exalting chorus:
         "Britain wins the field!"

         Men of Harlech, in the hollow
         Do ye hear like rushing billow
         Wave on wave that surging follow
         Battle's distant sound?
         'Tis the tramp of Saxon foemen,
         Be they knights or hinds or yeomen,
         They shall bite the ground.
         Loose the folds asunder!
         Flag we conquer under!
         The placid sky, now bright on high,
         Shall launch it's bolts in thunder!
         Onward, 'tis our country needs us!
         He is bravest he who leads us,
         Honor's self now proudly heeds us---
         Freedom, God, and Right!

         Rocky steeps and passes narrow
         Flash with spear and flight of arrow.
         Who would think of death or sorrow---
         Death is glory now!
         Hurl the yelling horsemen over,
         Let the earth dead foemen cover.
         Fate of friend, of wife, of lover
         Trembles of a blow!
         Strands of life are riven.
         Blow for blow is given,
         In deadly lock or battle shock
         And mercy shrieks to Heaven!
         Men of Harlech, young or hoary,
         Would you win a name in story?
         Fight for home, for life, for glory,
         Freedom, God, and Right!

         Translated from the Welsh by:
         Verses 1, 2:  Peter John Stephens
         Verses 3, 4:  Thomas Oliphaunt
         Verses 5, 6:  William Duthie

Eric Jon Campbell Sr Textile Engineering at NCSU
(alias) Xavier Campbell amateur blacksmith and brewer
Virtual SCA Library ( One I help manage )
TAAS (Triangle Area Anime Society)