SC - Fwd: [SCA-HUMOR] WARNING! Filk forthcoming...

DianaFiona at aol.com DianaFiona at aol.com
Mon Dec 20 10:38:14 PST 1999


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    Since many of us have surely wished for such a lovely fantasy to occur 
before our feasts, I thought you all might find amusement in this particular 
ditty......... ;-)

                        Ldy Diana 

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Date: 20 Dec 99 08:58:37 MST
From: Tammy Ackerson <sorchamacleod at netscape.net>
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Subject: [SCA-HUMOR] WARNING!  Filk forthcoming...
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From: Tammy Ackerson <sorchamacleod at netscape.net>

The following story was proudly filked by Lady Sorcha MacLeod on the 17th Day
of December, A.S. XXXIV, and is not intended to reflect the opinions of the
Barony of Caerthe, the Kingdom of the Outlands, the Society for Creative
Anachronism, or any member thereof in any way.  Any resemblence to gentles
past or present is very likely deliberate, but it is also probably not about
you, personally. :)


'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE TWELFTH NIGHT

'Twas the night before Twelfth Night, and all through the house,
Many creatures were stirring, including the mouse.
Candies were stacked all about to get dry,
But no one was snitching, they knew not to try.

The autocrats gathered to sooth their poor heads.
No time and no space were but two of their dreads.
We all worked so hard, we all needed a nap,
And someone was shouting, "I have gifts here to wrap."

When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter,
We all sprang from our tasks to see what was the matter.
Away to the window we'd have flown in a flash,
But the head cook had ordered us back to our tasks.

The light of the candles threw off a warm glow,
And the cook sought the clatter, the cause for to know.
When what, to our wondering eyes, should appear,
But a fine gentle knight bearing arms with a deer.

A massive old fighter, still lively and quick,
We knew in a moment it must be Sir Nick.
More rapid than falcons, his white horse it came,
Then bade us this knight of fair perfect fame:

Now shield side! Now sword side! (That's left, and that's right!)
I'll bow and you curtsy, let's all dance all night!
To the lord on your left, To the head of the hall,
Now dance away, dance away, dance away all!

As swift as our war host will enter the fray,
Courageous and daring, without a delay,
Up to the front porch his massive steed flew,
with a pack full of foodstuffs and Sir Nicholas, too.

And then in a twinkling we heard on the walk,
a scuffling of boots, then a couple of knocks.
As we washed all our hands and were turning around,
Through the front door Sir Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in steel from his head to his foot,
His armor untarnished from rust or from soot,
With the bundle of site tokens flung on his back,
He looked like a peddler just opening his pack

He unloaded oranges and little round berries,
all sorts of bread, and marzipan cherries.
He gave the autocrats aspirin, their headaches to ease,
Then because of the flour, he fought back a sneeze.

He wore a chain 'round his neck, and a sword in its sheath,
A coronet circled his helm like a wreath,
He carried in meat pies, and fruit in a sauce,
All of it fine, and none of it dross.

So great our relief was, when we saw Nick himself,
That we laughed when we saw him, in spite of ourselves,
But a wave of his hand, and a nod of his head,
Soon gave us to know, we had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Filled all the darioles, and turned with a jerk
Then, putting the crusts on the pies as he rose,
And fixing the schedule, out the back door he goes.

He sprang to the porch rail, gave his white horse a shout,
Leapt into the saddle, and turned him about.
But we heard him exclaim, 'ere he rode out of sight,
"Happy Twelfth Night to all, and to all a Good Knight!"


Happy holidays,
Sorcha



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