In Honor of all the Ladies who inspire

John Downland’s “Shall I sue” was published in his “Second Booke of Songs” in 1600.  There is a complete score available at http://imslp.org/wiki/Shall_I_Sue,_Shall_I_Seeke_for_Grace_(Dowland,_John).

 

Testing the Armor
To the Tune of John Dowland’s “Shall I sue”
Words by Eowyn de Wever

Shall I bow, shall I smite my shield,
Is my challenge heard,
As I wait to enter the lists
At the herald’s word.
There is none so fair as the one
For whom I fight,
Whose fair face and gentle smile
Gives such delight.

Bow we now, to the crown, to our love,
And to the crowd,
Let the marshal’s cry “Lay on!”
Ring out loud.
There’s no flinch, no cry
As she gazes upon the fight,
Though my wounds run red she smiles
At my wild delight.

Swords we cross, shields we raise in joy
Of a mighty bout,
As the knight’s fierce blows teach me
That my armor is stout.
Stoutly built, stoutly made
By my lady’s fair hands and mind,
Kept me safe this day – mildly bruised –
As I step back in line.

Filking about the Fiber Arts

I was recently reminded I tend to filk about fiber arts topics .. So here I present two filks sung to the tunes of The Irish Rover and the Three Ravens, respectively.


The Wild Seamstress
by Eowyn de Wever, and inspired by Mistress Isolde’s five year and running tapestry project
(Tune: The Irish Rover)

I’ve been a wild seamstress for many’s the year
And I traded my stitches for whiskey and beer.
But now I’m returning, my stitches are done
And the tapestry’s finished, about to be hung.

Chorus:
And it’s no, nay, never,
No, nay, never, no more,
Will I be a wild seamstress,
No never, no more.

I came to a yarn house I used to frequent,
And I told the shopkeeper my money was spent.
I asked her for credit, she answered me nay,
For such stitches as mine she could see every day!

I pulled from my pockets a charter so bright
That the shopkeeper’s eyes opened wide with delight.
She said “I have linen and yarn of the best
And the words that I spoke then were only in jest.”

I stretched out the linen, drew on the cartoon,
And I set to, the deadline was looming in June.
My stitches were even, my colour choice fine,
Yet I fear I must surely be out of my mind.

And it’s no, nay, never,
No nay, never, no more,
For I’m now a tame seamstress,
And get paid before.


Three Weavers
Words by Eowyn de Wever (written at Kingdom A&S 2011)
Tune: Three Ravens

There were three weavers sat at a loom,
Down a down hey down a down,
They traced out life and traced out doom,
With a down.
The first, she spun the living thread,
That held his life, his blood so red,
With a down, derry derry derry down down.

The second wove the gift of life.
Down a down hey down a down,
She wove him love and loss and strife
With a down.
She wove in gold, she wove in ache,
She wove him down to the earthen lake,
With a down, derry derry derry down down.

The third, she cut the final length,
Down a down hey down a down,
And as thread snapp’d so did his strength,
With a down.
Fates and Furies mote these be,
Spinner, Weaver, Cutter three,
With a down, derry derry derry down down.

Another Program in Another Lab …

Sometimes I like to rewrite the words of songs … often those of musicals. In this case, Evita’s “Another Suitcase in Another Hall”

Eva:
I don’t expect my programs to compile at first,
Never fool myself that my typing is true.
Being used to errors, I anticipate it,
But all the same I hate it, wouldn’t you?

Chorus:
Eva: So what’s compiling now?
Che: Another program in another lab …
Eva: So what’s compiling now?
Che: Printf, echo, take another stab…
Eva: Where is this silly bug?
Che: You’ll compile, you always have before …
Eva: Where is this silly bug?

Eva:
Time and time again, I’ve said it’s in NP,
That it just can’t be done, in polynomial time,
But every time we argue, all the proofs desert me,
And back I go trying, one more time …

[chorus]

Eva:
Call in three months time, I’ll be fine, I know,
The problem solved, though the code might be slow.
I won’t recall the names and places of this complication
But that’s no consolation here and now …

[chorus – but now Che’s lines are sung by nerdlets]