The Oak Tree of Trysel

In the Kingdom of the South Lords,
Beside a sparkling sea,
Within a pleasant land
There grows a tall oak tree.
Beneath its spreading branches
A noble people dwell:
The Lords and Ladies of the
Shire of Trysel.

Here may be heard the echoes
Of ancient chivalry;
Its virtues recreated
In the shelter of our tree;
Companions come together
A new story to tell
About our happy fellowship
In the Shire of Trysel.

Let mundane cares and worries
For now be put aside.
Take up the dream before us
Good pastimes be our guide;
United by the spirit
In which we choose to dwell:
In the shadow of our oak tree
In the Shire of Trysel.

In the shadow of our oak tree
In the Shire of Trysel.

Highlands and Islands

Oh give me the life of the Highlands:
The heather windswept and bare;
My tartan wrapped warmly about me
Against the cold mountain air;
With broadsword and targe on my shoulder
Defending my kith and my clan.
Oh, give me a home in the Highlands
For I am a true Highland man.

Love, give me a home in the Islands
Warmed by the southern seas;
A sunlit villa piazza;
A Mediterranian breeze;
A swing in a flowering grotto
Where I feel the sun kiss my skin.
Oh, give me a home in the Islands
If you want my heart to win.

The view from the mountains is stunning.
The roar of the surf is serene.
The hush of the glens is most tranquil.
My vineyards are growing and green.
The deer and the game are a bounty.
The ocean gives bounties galore.
I know, Dear, that you love your Highlands.
But Darling, I love you more.

We'll roam twixt the Highlands and Islands
And visit all parts in bettween.
We'll take life where ever we find it
And sing of the wonders we've seen.
We'll enjoy the journey together,
And celebrate all that we find.
I'll toast my Love with a dram of scotch,
And I'll drink my Love's health with wine.

Danse Macabre

The music is a lively step,
Though in a minor key;
Makes toes to tap and hands to clap
In gay festivity;
Invites the hearers all to dance,
The tune so fast it flies:
But look not at the piper who
Has holes instead of eyes.

Popes and kings and commoners
Are joined in merriment.
Mothers with their babes in arms
Are equally content.
Farmers, merchants, townsmen
Find the music opportune.
Ignore the fleshless fingers
That are tapping out the tune.

From palace down to marketplace
The melody is played.
From hovels and cathedrals
It is equally assayed.
It trills along the harbor,
It rings on castle stones.
None can escape the melody
That echos from the bones.

And when at last the dancers
Gaze upon their troubador,
The music ends and they forget
What they were dancing for.
All memories of daylight fail,
There's none can hope to save
Them all from their descent into
The silence of the grave.

No more for them the joys of life,
The final judgment waits,
Marshalled by Eternity
To their eternal fates.
While in the world they left behind,
As when the world was new,
Death takes up his instrument...

And starts the dance anew.

A Question of Fealty

I am a bard, and though, perhaps I bow
Out of courtesy before your throne,
I give allegiance only to my art,
And to the truth that I'm compelled to speak.
While I might offer friendship to the man
Who wears the crown, I do not give my oath
to his office, or his pretty chair.
For I know that there may come a time
When I must speak hard wisdom in his ear,
Appropriate to a friend, but not a liege,
Regardless that he may not want to hear.
It is my duty and my honor,too:
To bear the burden of speaking the truth,
Sweetening the physik with my verse
To better make the medicine go down.
And so, Your Majesty, do not mistake
My courtesy for my obesiance,
But meet me as a man, our both heads high,
Standing as equals 'fore the higher truth.
For kingships come and go in their own time,
But I must be, and shall remain, a bard.

To Those that I Have Known and Loved

I am at home where ever I may be;
On mountain, hillside, or beside the sea.
I have been gifted with a yearn to roam,
And where I hang my hat I make my home.

When I look back, remembering each place
Where I have been, instead I see each face
Of every person I have called friend;
Which makes me lonesome for each place I've been.

I look ahead desiring to see more
Of all the treasures this world has in store,
Regretting only those I've left behind;
Those whom I've loved, those who to me were kind.

The river of my life must ever flow.
And where the waters lead there must I go.
Yet fondly I look back upon each friend,
And dream of someday seeing them again.

Each passing moment is a precious jewel.
to think them lost or wasted is most cruel.
They should be savored in good company,
That they might shine in glorious memory.

Under the Cross Saltire

Pict and Norman and Briton,
Anglish and Dalriadic Scot.
Shed blood is mingled together
In the soil and never forgot
Longbow and iron age hill fort
The windswept tower of a broch
Standing stones on a hillside
O'erlooking the shores of a loch
Gaelic clans of the Highlands
Lords and lairds of the Plain
Broadswords and lochaber axes
To drive out the English again
Days of battle and warfare
Nights of fire and fear
Iron bands forged together
All under the Cross Saltire

For My Lady

Sultry nights should not be spent alone,

But should be shared with one whose company

Delights the eyes; illuminates the soul,

Completes the formula of "you and me".



Fair music, candle light, a table set

Beside cool waters, laid beneath the stars;

Low conversation, touched with knowing smiles

Punctuated with unspoken dares.



The evening beckons; no plans for the morn.

Let events develop as they please.

Audacity is bred within your eyes;

Familiar rhythms, as we take our ease.



The languid hours pass and we care not.

Scented by night blossoms opening,

Conjoined at hand and heart, we drink the breeze,

Yielding to a sultry evening.