
                SONGS BY IOSEPH OF LOCKSLEY
                     -copyright 1988 W. J. Bethancourt III
                      unless otherwise noted
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                           STRANGEST DREAM
                copyright 1984 W. J. Bethancourt III
                recorded: CELTIC CIRCLE DANCE
                          WTP-0002C

        Last night I had the strangest dream in this bleak century
        I dreamed that people the world around believed in Chivalry

        I dreamed I saw a Kingly Crown enshrined in laurel leaves
        with Grace and Joy and Purity attendant at his feet

        I dreamed I saw the perfect Knight receive his accolade
        and minstrels sang and children laughed in some soft forest glade

        I dreamed I saw the finest thing that ever man could make
        grow great and strong and undefiled: Pray God I never wake!

        Last night I had the strangest dream in this bleak century
        I dreamed that people the world around believed in Chivalry

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                          LOCKSLEY MONSTERS
                          W. J. Bethancourt III

               (to the tune of "Good King Wenceslaus")

                Locksley Monsters never yield
                on the field of battle
                strike the helm and bash the shield
                make their eyeteeth rattle
                Bodies on the ground will lie
                bones will burst in sunder
                search for Locksleys' enemies:
                You'll find them six feet under!

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                              SONG OF IVANOF

            There is a man who we know well that does the best he can
            but he's displayed in armour made of reticulated garbage cans!

            He looks so fine and fair and strong, oh how he plays the man
            and how it's prized, those galvanized, reticulated garbage cans

            The noblest Roman of them all, a good Praetorian
            a combatant who wears no pants, judst reticulated garbage cans!

            Like old Horatius at the Bridge, like the Legions of Valerian
            (O dearie me: those LOVELY knees!)
            and those reticulated garbage cans!

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                        THE HERALDS SAID TO ME

                         W. J. Bethancourt III
                         C. McCray Bethancourt

         (sung to the tune (obviously) of the 12 Days of Christmas)


1.           The first time I sent my device, The Heralds said to me

            "It violates the Rule of Three"

2.           The next time I tried it, the Heralds said to me

            "We changed the forms, and it violates the Rule of
             Three".

3.           The third time I tried, and the Heralds said to me, 

            "We upped the fees, we changed the forms, and it
             violates the Rule of Three".

4.           Another time I tried and the Heralds said to me,
 
            "We haven't got it, we upped the fees, we changed the 
             forms, and it violates the Rule of Three".

5.           The fifth time I tried it, the Heralds said to me,  

            "In a decision rendered by the College of Arms on
             August 1st, A.S. V it was decided that this style of
             heraldic design was not appropriate to the aims and 
             intentions of the Corporate Body. Holy! Holy! Holy! "

 note: verse 5 is delivered in an extremely fast, mono-
       tone, similiar to a Gregorian Chant.

           " ....we haven't got it, we upped the fees, we changed the forms,
             and it violates the Rule of Three."

6.           I tried it a sixth time, and the Heralds said to me,

            "We changed the rules, &c"

7.           A seventh time I tried and, the Heralds said to me,

            "It's against the Rule of Tincture, we changed the
             rules, &c"

8.           I tried it once again and the heralds said to me,

            "It's not a Period design, It's against the Rule of Tincture, We
             changed the rules, &c"

                                * more *



    Heralds Said To Me (cont.)

9.           I sent it in once more, and the Heralds said to me,

            "We changed the rules again, It's not a Period design,
             it's against the Rule of Tincture, we changed the
             rules, &c"

10. (sung in cold anger)
             The LAST time I sent my device, the Heralds said to me

    (sung in a state of SMUG)
             "Someone else has got it, &c"




              (nb: every single one of these reasons has been used by the
              CoA, at one point or another, to reject perfectly good
              heraldry, along with some even MORE stupid.  If the shoe 
              fits....................!!!!!!!!)


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                        BUGS ON THE BARONESS
                        Tune: Waltzing Matilda
 
           or: Who was that Vermin I saw you with last, Knight?
   or: There may be Lice on all you Knice, but there ain't no Lice on me

           Once there was a Barony howling in the wilderness
           nestled in the Valley where the River doesn't flow
           and the folks were driven buggy by the insects in the Revel Hall
           Authenticity is wonderful, but this doesn't go!

                   Bugs on the Baroness, bugs on the Baroness!
                   That was the cry that you heard all the day
                   and the scratching can be heard from Ysgithr to Ered Sul
                   why did we come here? Let's go away!

           See them all a scratching, nestled in their armour tight
           the fleas have a melee team that's challenging the field!
           call Truly Nolen! Someone's gotta help us out!
           the crabs are nesting in our helms but we'll never yield!

                   (chorus)

           Dawn comes a-breaking, the bugs have won the Coronet...
           flea-infested Conan-clones in piles upon the lawn
           where is the Barony? The bugs have eaten everyone...
           termites got the stick-jocks, and all their sticks are gone!

                   (chorus)

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                          ATENVELDT
                          tune: The West's Awake

                  For all the Lands where I have dwelt
                  Oh Atenveldt, Oh Atenveldt
                  till rivers burn and mountains melt
                  lest I forget my Atenveldt
                  From deserts stark to snow-capped peaks
                  from silent lakes and laughing creeks
                  sing: Oh let man find his heart's ease
                  on rocky plains
                  in desert breeze

                  For oft I thought of mighty men
                  who carved a Land with sword and pen
                  and lit a candle, burning bright,
                  that pierced the darkness; stirred the night!
                  tho some are gone their deeds remain
                  this sunny Crown without a stain
                  sing: Oh, their deeds were not in vain!
                  in sunlit days
                  and falling rain.....

                  So raise your banners, blazoned bright
                  Advance the Dream and Shine the Light!
                  in battle's crash and Revel's song
                  raise high the Flag and wave it long!
                  For all the Lands wherein I've dwelt
                  I love you best, my Atenveldt!
                  Sing: Oh the Joy that I have felt!
                  My Atenveldt
                  My Atenveldt

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                           NUDE
                     Ioseph of Locksley
                     Aengus MacEdwin
        copyright 1982 W.J.Bethancourt III and Ed Hirt
                    tune: Men of Harlech
                     
      What the use of wearing panties
      whalebone corsets of your Auntie's
      boxer shorts and other scanties
      best of all is nude
      there's such fun in going bra-less
      now that it's no longer lawless
      'specially if your figure's flawless
      best of all is nude
      nude is what you're born in
      shirts are never torn in
      underwear and lacy flimsies, garter belts and other whimsies
      yards of itchy cloth to put your form in
      ducks all do it, maidens rue it
      even ancient Picts in Britain blue it
      going naked's how to do it
      best of all is nude!

      If your garters aren't elastic
      tie them up in knots fantastic
      (panty hose is something drastic!)
      best of all is nude!
      If you're tired of wearing clotheses
      shed your garment 'mongst the roses
      never mind the old bluenoses
      best of all is nude!
      Nude is best for ducking!
      Worst for horses bucking!
      Moonlit nights will see such sights
          that are very best for fooling round
                              .....and elbows!
      Nudity is grand to see
       a well-known antidote to virginity
      take your clothes off and you'll see:
      best of all is nude!

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                    CELTIC CIRCLE DANCE
           copyright 1984 W. J. Bethancourt III
             recorded: CELTIC CIRCLE DANCE
                       WTP-0002
           tune: Same Old Man/Leatherwing Bat

                   Hi said the Norn, sittin in the sand
                   once I talked to a great Grey Man
                   spun three times and said with a sigh
                   hadn't been for the Runes had his other eye!

                   Chorus: hi diddle i diddle i day
                           hi diddle i diddle i diddle ay
                           hi di diddle i diddle i day
                           fol the dink a dum diddle do di day

                   Hi said the Lady, dressed in green
                   prettiest thing I've ever seen
                   she went down underneath the hill
                   and came back out of her own free will

                   Brian Boru, on Irish ground
                   walked three times the Island round
                   Norsemen came lookin for a fight
                   just another Irish Saturday night!

                   Hi said Lugh on the banquest night
                   a poet and a player and a good wheelwright
                   a harper and a warrior and none the least:
                   a Druid and he got in to the Feast!

                   Harold Haardrada's face was red!
                   Came to Britain and he wound up dead
                   Stamford Bridge is where he's found
                   got six feet of English ground

                   the Legion with it's Eagles bright
                   marched into the Pictish night
                   met them there upon the sand
                   gave em up to the Wicker Man!

                   eight-legged steed and hound of Hel
                   the one-eyed Man, he loves ya well
                   fire burn and fire spark
                   are you then feared of the dark?

                   The Circle forms, the Circle flows
                   the Circle goes where no man knows
                   Hail to the Lady, one in three:
                   Present is Past and Past is Me!

                   Rhiannon's Birds are still in flight
                   all thru the Day all thru the Night
                   Hail to the Lady, one in Three
                   Present is Past and Past is Thee!       

                                    * more *

                   Celtic Circle Dance (cont.)

                   Hi said the Lady dressed in white
                   sang the Day and sang the Night
                   sang the Land and sang the Sea
                   sang the Song, and then sang Me!

                   (extra verses) Salt and oil and mirror bright
                                  fire and fleet and candlelight
                                  by fin and feather, leaf and tree,
                                  fill the cup and blessed be!

                                  From the misty crystal sea
                                  came the Lady to the lea
                                  Sword and Roses in Her Hand
                                  spread their seeds thruout the Land

                                  Came the Stag from oaken wood
                                  saw the Lady where she stood
                                  by the fire burning bright
                                  came to know his heart's delight!

                   (end of extra verses)

                   By Sword and Harp, and Irish Hound
                   Blessed Be: the Day I've found
                   Hail to the Lady, one in Three
                   Present is Past and Past is WE

                   By Oak and Ash and Holy Thorn
                   bledded be the Day you're born!
                   Fire burn and fire bright
                   walk in safety thru the night

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                       BEATIE, BEATIE, BEAT!
                               -Ioseph of Locksley
                                copyright 1978 W.J.Bethancourt III

        Gunwald advances, Johann retreats (3X)
        but no one's going beatie beatie beat

        (Chorus): Now they are going beatie beatie beat! (3X)
                  And which will be the last upon his feet?

        Gunwald advances, Johann retreats
        Johann advances, Gunwald retreats
        Gunwald advances...Gunwald retreats?
        But no one's going beatie beatie beat!

                  Now they are going beatie beatie beat! (3X)
                  And Johann's just so much dead meat!

 (Written, off the cuff, as a sung description of a combat in Crown
 Lists....written as it happened, while it happened.)

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        ******************************************************

                         SONG OF THE BoD
                         tune: God Bless England

               I'll tell you a tale of Peace and Love
                       whack fol the diddle o the di do day
               Of those that Rule all Lands above
                       whack fol the diddle o the di do day
               may Peace, and Plenty be their share
               that keep our Empire in repair
               God save the Directors is our prayer!
                       whack fol the diddle o the di do day

               chorus: whack fol the diddle o the di do day
                       so we cry! It's no lie!
                       God save the Directors up on high!
                       whack fol the diddle o the di do day

               When we were Sauvage, Fierce and Wilde
               they came as a Mother to her childe
               they gently raised us from the slime
               and kept our hands from Hellishe Crime
               and made us a Kingdom in their own good time

               Now, Atenveldt forgets the Past
               and thinks on a Day that's coming fast
               when we shall all be....civilized....(puke)
               neat, and clean.....and WELL-ADVISED
               oh won't the Directors be....suprised?!

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                        M'LADY (THE FUBBA WUBBA SONG)
                        copyright 1987 W.J.Bethancourt III
                        tune: They Call the Wind Maria

        Away out here they have a name for even the Ump that's Wuggly
        But the last word in Awfulness, M'Lady, you're The Ugly!

                M'Lady, M'Lady, they call the pigs M'Lady!

        Before I knew M'Lady's name and heard her constant whinin'
        I thought all girls were beautiful and the sun was always shinin'

        Then one day, M'Lady came, and stopped the clocks from tickin'
        she curdled milk, aborted cows, and stopped my stamps from stickin'!

                (chorus)

        Away out here they have a name for everything worth seein'
        but if M'Lady looks at you, then soon you will be fleein'

        M'Lady disappeared one day, and that for sure is scary
        she was the result of experiments by a deranged Vetinary!

                (chorus)

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                    WEAPONS AT THE DOOR

 Being a Polemic concerning the alleged Custom of the West Kingdom concerning 
 checking your Weapons at the Door of the Revel Hall. As the Satire is the 
 Weapon of the Bard, this said Polemic is to be checked at the Door, along with 
 swords, knives, redheaded Ladies and other such Deadly Things.....

         As I roved out to Western Lands to take the Western Air
         I went into a Revel Hall and I saw a Twelfth Night there
         but I was halted at the gate by a Privy Consellor
                 (that's the man who tells the King of the West how to go to
                  the bath room!)
         who told me I would have to check my Weapons at the door

         As I, in my astonishment, stood hung on tenter-pegs
         a Knight came in whose Prouess hung down between his legs
         the Doorman grabbed a greatsword and he struck the Knight full sore
         and gave him a reciept; he left his weapon at the door!

         a Bard was next whose goodly Voice has entertained us all
         but he, too, was prevented from entering the Hall
         and told he could not carry deadly weapons on the floor
         he left his Voice and Harp among the weapons at the door

         a Master entered graciously, a man we all know well
         who holds a 3rd Dan Black Belt, tho this he'd never tell
         the Master struggled valiantly, the Master cursed and swore
         but he left his hands, and feet, as weapons at the door

         the company was jovial, altho a bit dismayed
         for lack of proper cutlery, down to the smallest blade
         for even teeth and fingernails, each can be used in War
         were cut, and pulled, and left behind, as weapons at the door!

         And has their King not loyal Knights that He must be afraid
         of brawling in his Hall and of Assassin's bloody blade?
         the Rights of Men to carry Arms at least WE'VE not foreswore
         and a POX on them that made the Rule of Weapons at the Door!

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         *************************************************************

                           THE STREETS OF ANN ARBOR

               As I walked out thru the streets of Ann Arbor
               as I walked out thru Ann Arbor one day
               I spied a young Mongol all dressed in white linen
               all dressed in white linen and cold as the clay

               I then spied another, done in on the sidewalk
               along with just about six dozen more
               their wounds were all gaping, from mace and from braoadsword
               from claymore and cannon, all dripping with gore

               what caused this grave carnage, I cried to the Monglos
               oh pray what's the reason for this awful sight
               my answer came slowly from under the corpse-pile
               "It seems that our bark is much worse than our bite....."

               the answer continued from pale lips a-shaking
               we sang all our songs and believed them as true
               the Dark Horde could never be beaten in battle
               we thought this was what all good Mongols could do...

               we went down to Atenveldt all for to plunder
               "too large to defend" was our song every night
               but Atenveldt's different from East, West or Middle
               there, even the bushes have learned how to bite!

               the Clann stole our ponies, the Scraelings our foodstuffs
               we ran into axes in AtenViking hands
               our maidens ran off with one Richard of Arkham
               and we're all that's left to return to our lands

               MacChluarains and Monsters, Lockehaven and Foxmoor
               that Kingdom is BIG and its' fighters are MEAN!
               we fought and we lost, and fled back to Ann Arbor
               we all came back home with results that you've seen

               keep away from that Land with its' cactus and marshes
               it's no place for Mongols who are bent on War
               they count their blows well, but they strick them yet better
               he crawled into his Yurt, and fell, dead, on the floor.....

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        *******************************************************

                       SONG OF THE THREE
             copyright 1981 W. J. Bethancourt III
                            C. A. Bethancourt III
       tune: the song of the Cowardly Lion, Tin Woodsman and Scarecrow
             in the movie version of the Wizard of Oz

        (Enter the Scarecrow, who singeth:)

        My wife is always nagging; my Prowess it is lagging
        I can't do anything
        she has got a reason, but revenge is out of season
        Oh I wish I could be King!

        If I just had the Crown on, I'd always have a frown on
        and the Barons on a string
        Heads they would be rolling, the Board would be cajoling
        Oh if only I was King!

        I am very fed up with the way this group is set up
        Oh I'd change everything!
        they are so high and mighty with the way that they do fight-ey
        Oh, someday I'll be King!

        Tho my wife is melancholic, and very...vitriolic
        she's a wasp without a sting!
        I'd have to supervise her with a pack of tranquilizers
        If I only was a King......

        (the Tin Woodsman joineth him, and singeth:)

        I grew up kind of cocky, and rather big, and stocky
        and straight as any rod
        on the field I'm a battallion, with the Ladies I'm a stallion
        ...Oh they'd better make me God!

        The other boys are jealous they say I'm over-zealous
        they'd do better to applaud
        the things that I am giving to this Dream that we are living
        oh I wish they'd make me God!

        They say that I'm conceited, but I'm just badly treated
        by people and by BoD
        just think of what they're missing by My Majesty dismissing
        Oh they'd better make me God!

        (the Cowardly Lion creepeth forth, and singeth:)

        Oh I could be a fighter, a great and mighty smiter
        and be the perfect knight
        it's a great and nasty shame, and everyone's to blame
        oh I wish that I could fight!

                                * more *




        Song of the Three (cont.)

        I could be a Cavalier drinking wine and ale and beer
        and be a gorgeous sight
        but it would cost me too much money so it isn't very funny
        oh I wish that I could fight!                               

        Let me at 'em on the field, I would surely make them yield
        to my Power and my Might
        with rattan, shinai and rapier they would nevermore escape here
        If they'd only let me fight

        (all doeth the Softe Shoe off, stage left)


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                        OH MY LADYE
                           -Ioseph of Locksley
                            copyright 1989 W. J. Bethancourt III
                        (Tune: Lizzie Lindsay (Child #226)

        Will y'gang t'the Hielands, Oh, my Lady?
        Will y'gang t'the Hielands wi' me?
        Will y'gang t'the Hielands, oh my Lady?
        M'bride and m'bonnie t'be?

        I'll no gang to t'Hielands wi you, sir
        I dinna ken how that may be
        For I ken nae the Land that y'live in
        Nor dowry y'may give t'me

        Oh, m'lady it be y'ken little
        If y'dinna ken me
        For my name is the great Laird of Locksley
        A Chieftain of high degree

        For dowry, I give you the whole of
        the earth, and the sea and the sky
        and the Road along with me t'travel
        and the love of a Bard such as I

        She has kilted her coats of green satin
        She has kilted them up t'her knee
        and she's off w'the great Laird of Locksley
        His bride and his darlin' tae be!

        Will y'gang t'the Hielands, oh my Lady?
        Will y'gang t'the Hielands wi me?
        Will y'gang t'the Hielands, oh my Lady?
        My bride and my bonnie t'be?

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              **********************************************

                MY LOVE, MY LOVE: YOU BROKE MY HEART
                                -William of the Shire
                                -Ioseph of Locksley
                                 copyright 1971, 1989 W.J.Bethancourt III

        Am       B7        Am        G        Am     E7       Am
    My love, my love, you broke my heart; I'm off to join the Wars
        Am       B7     Am    G        Am   E7      Am  A
    I'm off to free the Holy Land from Saracens and Moors.
        D             A              D         D6        E7
    And if you ever loved me dear, prepare my plot and stone
           Am      B7        Am       G          Am       E7    A
    Turn loose my hawks and hunting hounds: I'll not be riding home.

    Prepare the funeral hatchment around my blazon bright
    Go tell the Priest to sing the Mass; make restful my Soul's night
    And if you ever loved me dear, prepare my plot and stone
    Turn loose my hawks and hunting hounds: I'll not be riding home.

    I cannot live with broken heart; the wound you gave will kill.
    And Death's cold hand is on my Soul, I feel his awful chill.
    My Destiny lies on the Field, in months, or days, or years....
    And if you never loved me dear, shed not your lying tears.

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                (room for 27-28 lines)

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                THE ITSY BITSY TEENY WEENY.......
                                -Ioseph of Locksley
                                 copyright 1989 W.J.Bethancourt III

                She was afraid to come out to the Tourney
                She was worried that "something might show.."
                She was afraid to come out to the Tourney
                And the poor thing did NOT want to go...

                  (2 - 3 - 4, tell the people what she wore!)

                  It was an itsy bitsy teeny weenie little rabbit fur bikini
                  That she wore, for the first time, that day.
                  An itsy bitsy teenie weenie little rabbit fur bikini
                  And in her apartment she wanted to stay!

                One day in the Kingdom of the Middle
                It happened at a Tourney one day:
                The Mongols invaded the Middle
                But the Middle did not want to play...

                  (eins - zwei - drei, but the Dark Horde wouldn't die!)

                  It was an itsy bitsy tiny teenie Nauseating Mongol weenie
                  That they saw, for the first time, that day.
                  An itsy bitsy tiny teenie Nauseating Mongol weenie
                  And the Mongols did NOT go away!

                Now the Heralds made up a new Rulebook
                And to read it is some kind of gas!
                It's a bureaucrat's dream, this new Rulebook
                Now NOBODY'S blazon can pass!

                  (Win - Place - Show, tell the Heralds where to go!)

                                 (insert Bronx cheer!)

                  I want an itsy bitsy teenie weenie little rabbit fur bikini
                  On my shield, as my blazon, today!
                  An itsy bitsy teenie weenie little rabbit fur bikini
                  But "that's offensive" the Heralds all say!

                I sat down at the Revel last evening
                To a feast of green meat, and Rat Pie...
                It was cold, and disgusting, and greasy
                And I just want to upchuck and die!

                  (6 - 7 - 8, tell them what was on your plate!)

                  It was an itsy bitsy teenie weenie little rabbit fur bikini
                  With a side dish of cold cabbage pie!
                  An itsy bitsy teenie weenie little rabbit fur bikini
                  With the fur on, and NOTHING inside!

  (This was written to bug my sweet wife to death with...........heheh!)

            ******************************************************

            ******************************************************

                           IOSEPH'S SONG
                               -Ioseph of Locksley
                                copyright 1972, 1989 W. J. Bethancourt III

          Some folks call me many names, others call me crazy
          Tom O'Bedlam's son am I, for my mind is hazy!
          I'd rather sing a song than work (if it's not too phrasey!)
          Lengthy rhymes don't bother me....truth to tell: I'm lazy!

          Yang, your yurt is very nice, and your Horde is smelly,
          And I'm sure that yak-meat will nicely fill one's belly!
          But remember this one line, or you're not worth jelly:
          FIRST you plunder, THEN you burn! That's how to be rakehelly!

          My Lady Lorelei your eyes do drive me to distraction
          And the lovely Care-Cheri causes....petrifaction!
          But I, and they, quite taken are, so I can't take action...
          Therefore, Ladies, fill my cup; I'll drink to stupefaction!

          Now Atenveldt your fighters, all, are most good and gentle
          And the Ladies, bless 'em all, are most ornamental!
          But that little Nikki-Toad....has me sentimental
          Though with boffer in her hand she is argumental!

          This stupid little song, m'lords, is mostly sung in Latin
          By the Goliards, of course, from vespers clear to matins!
          But I prefer a coarser cloth over silk or satins
          English is more understood, mine enemies to flatten!

          Good People all, I've made my Song, its' music's well-recited
          But my voice could use some work; the flowers it has blighted!
          It's rude and rusty, grim and bad, and squeaky like a door-hinge,
          But I'm a better Bard than you: I found a rhyme for "orange!"

 (note to verse 4: Nichelle of Whitewolfe is now a very beautiful young Lady
 resident in Caid. This verse was written when she was 2 years old. Ask HER!

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