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Here be the words of Baron Berwyn, as inspired by the muse. Many are set to the tunes of others. Don’t think of this as plagiarism, consider it recycling.
Merv Griffin and the Starbucks
Enough of this silliness, take me home
(tune: “If I were a blackbird”)
If I were a young man without any fear
I’d go on a quest for that treasure most dear
To be pure of heart and not bring any shame
To the best of the chivalry’s honor and fame.
If I were a young man in armor of white
I’d wonder if ever I’d be made a knight.
I’d dream how the pride of the Chivalry felt
To be gifted with spurs, golden chain, and white belt.
If I were a young man in the prime of my life
I’d find my true love and I’d make her my wife.
I’d have me a son for to carry my name
Or a beauteous fair daughter to love all the same.
If I were a young man in search of renown
I’d go to the tourney and try for the crown.
High on the throne my true love I would seat
And call for the people to kneel at her feet.
But what are these furrows I see on my brow?
And where is my true love I never have found?
My armor lies buried all covered in rust,
And someday I too will be no more than dust.
For it seems like the decades they fly all too fast.
Instead of the future I dream for the past.
And I wonder what happened to the thirty-odd years
Since I was a young man, without any fears.
© 1998 Bert Garwood
The story you are about to hear is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. But since, if you believe in the doctrine of Original Sin, no one is truly innocent, I left the names alone.
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It was the autumn festival, folk came from far and near
To have a wondrous tournament. They did this every year.
They set up all their tents and cots to dream of knighthood’s flower,
And in a corner of the camp, there rose a mighty tower.
The tower belonged to Bohun, a knight of great renown.
The members of his retinue could populate a town.
If you would learn of chivalry, his council you should seek,
And if you ask him nice, he’ll let you climb up for a peek.
Now darkness fell upon the tower and all the camp below
And the sound of happy voices rose amid the fire’s glow.
Then one by one all went to bed and snuffled out their wicks,
But far across the camp, a few were up to dirty tricks.
“Did you see Bohun’s tower, across the camp afar?”
“I wish we had a tower, Folks would know just who we are.”
“Tis such a pretty tower, How wonderful it is.”
“Why should we build one of our own? Let’s go and borrow his.”
They emptied all their cups and horns while plotting there with glee.
(In fact, to be quite honest, they emptied two or three.)
Then as the moon was setting, and the dew was cold and damp,
They summoned up their courage, and crept across the camp.
“Be very, very quiet, though the Bohuns are abed
For if perchance we wake them we will surely wind up dead.”
Stealthily they did their work and shouldered up their load.
Then off with Bohun’s tower, they headed down the road.
One of Bohun’s minions awoke from slumber’s bliss,
And stumbled from his tent to find that something was amiss.
“Something isn’t right” he thought, “Our tower, oh so dear,
Wherever has it gotten to? I thought we left it here.”
He ran off to his master’s tent to raise up the alarm.
“Good Sir, come quick, I think our tower may have come to harm”
Everybody out of bed! Hurry up! Get dressed!
To find our purloined edifice we must go on a quest.”
The knight set off across the camp, with retinue behind
Hoping that his tower he would be able to find.
Then he espied a sight which brought a smile across his face.
Behold, a wooden tower, a group of drunkards ‘round its base.
“Pardon me, good gentles, I don’t want to intrude,
At such an early hour upon your interlude.
But have you seen our tower?” He addressed the milling host.
“Why, no,” said Sheriff Ulrick, as he leaned against a post.
“Was it tall and made of wood, and topped with flag of green?
Good Sir, I tell you honestly, that thing we have not seen.
You see, this is OUR tower? We do not want to brag,
This cannot be your tower, for it hasn’t got a flag.”
The knight replied, as knights must do, with knightly courtesy.
“I think you are mistaken. It does belong to me.
I built it with my own two hands, except the parts I bought,
And I am sure as I can be, your tower it is not.”
“Well - it might not be OUR tower, its difficult to call.
Towers are so commonplace; seen one, you’ve seen them all.
Now we’re not saying that its yours, if you should have a care.
Truth is, we don’t know who’s it is. We found it over there”
About that time a lad approached and said “Look what I found
Crumpled there behind a post, lying on the ground.
Sir Thomas Bohun’s banner. Now this is evidence
That found here with this tower cannot be coincidence.
“All right, its yours” said Ulrick, “but you needn’t raise a fuss”
It was all a little joke, now come and have a drink with us.”
The robbers shared their ale and mead, for this they had a knack.
Then they each picked up a corner, and they put the tower back.
© 1999 Bert Garwood
Oh its colder than hell and a critter might eat us.
If you meet us in a fight we'll sing while you beat us.
We try to keep warm wearing skin an fur
While we huddle in our huts. You bet, Ya Shure.
You can tell we're Northshielders by our long tall ships.
and by our gold griffinns and our pale blue lips.
We make our own beer and mead an winey,
Then we get medieval on our own damn hiney.
Oyez Oyez Oyez Oyez
We're a militatry force. Stong as steel. Smooth as satin.
Our personnas are Norse, but our motto is in Latin.
We fight with honor while we pillage and rape
And carry off your women and your cows and duct tape.
We swear by Odin and by the stars above us
That once you get to know us, you know you gotta love us.
Break out the beer and mead, everybody holler Uff-da
We party all night, we really raise the roof Ya sure
Ya sure Ya sure Ya sure
© 2000 Bert Garwood
(tune: The Griffin and the Star” by Sir Conn McNeil)
I’ll tell a tale, come lend an ear
Of a late-night TV pioneer
Who’s fame has spread both far and near,
He calls himself Merv Griffin.
Now he was in Seattle once
And thought he’d get himself some lunch
he stopped at Starbuck’s on a hunch
And stepped up to the counter.
For a nice hot cup of Starbuck’s ilk.
Coffee with a lot of milk
A bowl of soup with vegetables
And later on a sandwich.
Latté, Minestrone, and Cold Baloney
Latté, Minestrone, and Cold Baloney
The waiter said, “I tell ya Merv,
I think you’ve got a lot of nerve
To think that I would stand and serve
Vanna White’s employer.”
“Besides I’ll come right to the point,
You’re standing in a coffee joint.
Espresso will your cup anoint,
And I’ll bring you a napkin.
But sandwiches we do not make
We just have coffee, tea and cake.
Sometimes we might think to bake
A nice Italian pastry.
Cannoli, Biscotti, and Double-decaf Latté
Cannoli, Biscotti, and Double-decaf Latté
But I am famous, can’t you see.
Don’t take that tone of voice with me.
For I own half of NBC,
And soon I’ll buy Ted Turner.
The waiter answered without pause.
I don’t care if you’re Santa Clause.
A big disturbance you will cause.
Now get out of my restaurant.
Take yourself on down the street
Find another place to eat
Hit the road Jack, beat your feet.
I do not want your business for
Latté, Minestrone, and Cold Baloney
Latté, Minestrone, and Cold Baloney
(softer) Latté, Minestrone, and Cold Baloney
Latté, Minestrone, and Cold Baloney
© 1997 Bert Garwood
(tine: “Pat-a-pan”)
Abdul bought a little drum hoping girls in gauze would come
Shake their bootie in his face
Dum-a-dum-a-dum, Tek-a-tek-a-tek
Hear the dumbeks played too loud every night all o-ver the place.
As the pennsic sunset comes all that you can hear is drums
Echoing across the lake.
Dum-a-dum-a-dum, Tek-a-tek-a-tek
People drumming dancing drinking and keeping us all a-wake.
Ladies writhe before the fire as the flames leap higher and higher
At the risk of limb and life.
Dum-a-dum-a-dum, Tek-a-tek-a-tek
Someone grumbles the best way to play dumbek is with a knife.
As you climb a certain hill, people there are drumming still,
As they prance in bunny skins.
Dum-a-dum-a-dum, Tek-a-tek-a-tek
Their percussion is the least in a great multitude of sins.
Suddenly the drumming stops. (long pause) Probably the effect of hops.
Or some strawberry surprise.
Dum-a-dum-a-dum, Tek-a-tek-a-tek
Good, we finally get to sleep now the sun is about to rise.
As you speak of Pennsic past, tell your buddies it was a blast,
Next year they’ll all have to come.
Dum-a-dum-a-dum, Tek-a-tek-a-tek
War was great, you loved it but the best part of all was…The drums!
© 1996 Bert Garwood
(The tale of Warriors and Warrlords VII and the effect of the weather thereupon.)
(tune: “Vincent” by Don McLean)
Shiny shiny knights
Dancing, drinking, merriment
Romantic moments in a tent
That’s what they promised at the big event
So down the road I went.
Headed off to Osseo.
How could there be a better place to go.
How was I to know, it would not be just quite so.
That there was better than an even bet
That I would come home wet.
I did not listen when they told me so
On the radio.
Sticky sticky day.
A herald came and called “O-yay
A storm is coming, Run away”
But we just laughed and waited there for court
To see the kingdom’s work
Court continued on and on
And on and on and on and on
And meanwhile mother nature went berserk.
It might have been a quirk,
We think about it now and smirk
But we weren’t laughing then we held on tight,
and shivered through the night.
Soggy soggy morn,
We rise and don our driest duds,
And go off squshing through the mud
To find out how our friends had fared the storm,
To see if they were warm.
Then off to the parking lot
To find our trusted chariot
Immersed in muck and slime up to the door.
That’s what friends are for
Each gave his all and then some more
To see each wagon onto solid ground
To get home, safe and sound.
Shiny shiny knights
Preparing to go off to war
As they’ve been known to do before,
And indications are they will again
The circle doesn’t end.
Just down the road from Osseo,
I think we found a drier place to go.
© 2001 Bert Garwood
Hey, No Mc Muffin
(tune, “Hey-Ho the Griffin” by Master John Chandler))
I’ll have a Coke and a super size fry.
Hey, No McMuffin
I’ll take a Coke and a super size fry
You can save your McMuffin for some other guy.
With egg or with sausage, McMuffin decry.
Hey, No McMuffin
I go to McDonald’s for breakfast each morn,
Hey, No McMuffin
I go to McDonald’s for breakfast each morn,
If my doctor heard of it he’d scold me with scorn.
Of cholesterol’s evils he surely would warn
Hey, No McMuffin
Two all beef patties with pickles and cheese
Hey, No McMuffin
Two all beef patties with pickles and cheese
Special sauce and a ses’me seed bun if you please.
I care not what it does to my arteries.
Hey, No McMuffin
Burgers and fries are my banquet of choice
Hey, No McMuffin.
Burgers and fries are my banquet of choice
With a Happy Meal toy, to help me rejoice
But I’ll shout long and loud at the top of my voice
Hey, No McMuffin.
© 2002 Bert Garwood
When We Did Once a-Maying Go
When we did once a-Maying go upon a wooded isle.
We wandered free among the oaks, and tarried there a while.
You held a coin from long ago, a treasure to behold,
And I held secret in my heart a love not to be told.
And when the lusty day was done, and stars shown all above.
The circle gathered singing songs of heros, and of love.
You sang about your Johnny dear, the fairest man was he.
Yet in my foolish, lonely heart, I dreamed you sang of me.
Your Johnny came accross the land, to beg of you a boon.
He was a soldier of the king, and war was coming soon.
He asked you for your lilly hand, you gave it willingly.
He gave to you a golden ring. A ring of bronze had he.
Summer holds the springtime’s heart, as winter holds the fall
But springtime’s love the autumn heart shall never know at all.
You live now with your own true love, the fairest man is he.
And I live with that windy spring, a faded memory.
© 2004 Bert Garwood
If I Were from Northshield
(Intro spoken)
A Petition to the Board of Directors:
Dear BOD, you made many Kingdoms.
I realize, of course, that it's no shame to be from Atenveldt,
But it's no great honor either!
So, what would be so terrible if I could be from Northshield?"
If I were from Northshield.
You Betcha Yada yada didey deelde deedle dum.
All day long I'd Uff-da Uff-da Uff
If I were a Northshield son.
I’d wear a golden griffin
Ya You Betcha Yada yada didey deelde deedle dum.
On a tabard covering my chest
And one in back to hide my frozen buns.
I’d build a big tall ship with sails made of silk
On a mast in the middle of the deck.
Eighteen cabins, each with a lot of room
And all my friends and I would sail the Dakotas
Even though there is no ocean, what the heck
We could sit and watch the cows go boom.
I’d see Polaris star shining above me
In the constellation of the Bear.
Sing ‘Shield My Kinsmen,” “Lifeblood’ and “Row Men Row.”
And I would have a laurel help me embroider
Tiny griffins on my underwear.
‘Cause no-one wants to teach me how to sew (go figure)
If I were from Northshield
Ya You Betcha Yada yada didey deelde deedle dum.
There could be no better place to be
From the mountains to the inland sea
Calontir would be in awe of me
If I were a North-shield man.
©2008 Bert Garwood