Cunnan - User contributions [en]

User:Maximillian

2009-02-12T09:30:55Z

Maximillian:

In the Mundane world Maximillian masquerades as William Howard, a post-graduate philosophy student at the University of Canterbury.

23 Years of age, and currently pursuing a passing fancy in esoteric studies as Alchemy of Pythagoreanism. Resident of Southron Gaard.

I am also transcribing various and sundry books of knowledge into Cunnan, because apparently Transcription is fun, and it makes me feel less like a layabout.

Leprosy (Song)

2009-02-12T09:10:12Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 63, AS XLIII.

Tune: The Beatles - "Yesterday"

==Lyrics==

Leprosy, 
All my skin is falling off of me 
And it's simple, vey plain to see 
I've got a case of Leprosy

Leprosy, 
Friends and family shy away from me 
And I can't afford a colony 
Oh I am stuck with Leprosy

Why I have to rot, I know not 
I cannot say 
Gangrene is better but 
I am stuck, with Leprosy

Leprosy, 
All my clothes are dirty rags you see 
Thats why all the people stare at me 
Oh why do I have Leprosy

Why I have to rot, I know not 
I cannot say 
Gangrene is better but 
I am stuck with Leprosy

Leprosy, 
I'm not half the man I used to be 
That's 'cause half of me is dead you see 
Oh I am plagued with Leprosy

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

Lindisfarne (Song)

2009-02-12T09:06:12Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page ??, AS XLIII.

Author: Ragnar Magnussen 
Tune: Green Grows my Bogling Fork

==Lyrics==

I'll sing you one, oh, 
Sword, axe and spear, oh, 
What is your one-oh?

One we got to Lindisfarne and burn it to the ground, oh! 
Two, two the Chrsitian monks lying in their blood, oh... 
Three, three, we're Vikings... 
Four for the ships we sail in... 
Five for the symbols on our shields... 
Six for the Saxons that we've killed... 
Seven for the wenches that we've raped... 
Eight for the gold we've stolen... 
Nine for the cities that we've sacked... 
Ten for the mighty Odin... 
Eleven for bright Valhalla... 
Twelve for the gods in Asgard...

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

Medieval Seneschal

2009-02-12T09:02:29Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 67, AS XLIII.

Tune: I am the very Model of a Modern Major General
==Lyrics==

I am the very model of a medieval Seneschal 
I've information marshallate, heraldic and monarchical; 
I know the Kings of Atenveldt in order alphabetical; 
I've edited a monograph on armour theoretical.

I've memorized the order of the Ansteorran precedence 
And all of the addresses of the monarchs' former residence. 
Upon the Kingdom chronicles I am a living indices... 
And for Kingdom publications I check everything the printer sees!

My cumulative knowledge of the Ansteorran history 
Is easily recitable and thoroughly a whiz for me 
In short, in matters marshallate, heraldic and monarchial 
I am the very model of a medieval Seneschal.

My armorial device has over twenty-seven quarterings, 
From fimbriated dragons to eleven types of mortaring, 
I demonstrate my expertise on heraldry and loyalty, 
By blazoning the arms of all the members of the royalty.

My great familiarity with fighting in Society, 
Is predicated by my own desire for variety 
I fought in demonstrations, in the Crown and in the Coronet... 
And with all of my experience I haven't found it boring yet!

I participate in melees and heraldic congregations 
With a fervor one would only see in sexual relations 
But I say in matters marshallate, heraldic and monarchical 
I am the very model of a medieval Seneschal.

Though I understand the duties of the other major offices 
As seneschal, I should be relegated to the novices. 
Although my past experience is varied and renumeral, 
I doubt that I could autocrat a dead canary's funeral!

The shire that I serve has started falling into disrepair 
I cannot keep the populace from disappearing everywhere 
The herald lost his voice from telling me to take my last repose... 
And the marshall took my senechallate key and jammed it up my nose!

My administrative skills are rivalled only by Caligula 
The royal board of inquiry declared the books irregular 
But still in matters marshallate, heraldic and monarchical 
I am the very model of a medieval Seneschal.

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

Mermaid (Rule Brittannia)

2009-02-12T08:52:45Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 68, AS XLIII.

==Lyrics==

Oh 'twas in the broad Atlantic, mid the equinoctial gale 
That a young fellow fell overboard among the sharks and whales 
And down he went as a streak of light, so quickly down went he 
Until he came to a merm-i-ed at the bottom of the deep blue sea.

:Singing Rule Britannia, 
:Britannia rules the waves, 
:And Britons never, never, never shall be, 
:Marr-i-ed to a merm-i-ed 
:At the bottom of the deep blue sea.

She raised herself on her beautiful tail and gave him her soft wet hand 
"I've long ben waiting for you my dear so welcome to my land 
Now go back to your messmates and tell them all from me 
That you're marr-i-ed to a merm-i-ed at the bottom of the deep blue sea.

CHORUS

We sent a boat to look for him expecting to find his corpse, 
When up he came with a bang and a shout and a voice sepulchrally hoarse 
My comrades and my messmates oh don't you cry for me 
For I'm marr-i-ed to a merm-i-ed at the bottom of the deep blue sea

CHORUS

In my chest you'll find my half year's wage wrapped round with a lock of hair 
With this locket from my neck, to my poor young wife I bid you safely bear 
Take my carte de visite to my grandmother, tell her "Don't you weep for me" 
For I'm marr-i-ed to a merm-i-ed at the bottom of the deep blue sea.

CHORUS

The anchor was weighed and the sails unfurled and the ship was sailing free 
When up we went to our cap-i-tan and the tale we told to he 
The captain he went to the old ship's side and out loud bellowed he 
"Be as happy as you can, with your wife, young man, 
At the bottom of the deep blue sea."

CHORUS

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

Onward Sauron's Soldiers

2009-02-12T08:45:42Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 72, AS XLIII.

Tune: Onward, Christian Soldiers
==Lyrics==

Onward, Sauron's soldiers, 
Marching off to war 
With the Eye of Sauron 
Going on before 
Darkness like a banner 
Shadows all the foe 
Forward into battle 
See the Nazghul go!

CHORUS: 
Onward, Sauron's soldiers, 
Marching off to war, 
With the Eye of Sauron 
Going on before.

Trolls and Balrogs mangle, 
Dragons burn and bite! 
With us you must tangle 
Or run and scream in fright! 
Evil is our watchword, 
Pain is our delight; 
Middle-Earth must crumble 
Under Mordor's might!

CHORUS

From the dread Dark Tower, 
To black Khazad-Dum 
We'll send elves and hobbits 
Shrieking to their tomb 
Men and dwarves together 
Go down in defeat. 
In the hunger after battle 
They'll be good to eat.

CHORUS

Conquer every village! 
Yell our battle cry! 
"Murder, rape and pillage, 
Then spit in their eye!" 
See the craven victims 
Quivering with fear; 
We'll be leaving Mordor 
Sometime late next year!

CHORUS

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

Odin loves the little vikings

2009-02-12T08:39:22Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 70, AS XLIII.

Tune: Jesus loves the little children.
==Lyrics==

Odin loves the little Vikings 
All the Vikings of the world 
Whether drunk on ale or mead 
In a boat or on a steed 
Odin loves the little Vikings of the world.

Odin loves the little Vikings 
All the Vikings of the world 
If you're drunk and thrown in jail 
Odin - and your axe! - are bail 
Odin loves the little Vikings of the world.

Odin loves the little Vikings 
All the Vikings of the world 
Offer up an ox or two 
And he'll be in debt to you. 
Odin loves the little Vikings of the world.

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

Public Bar

2009-02-12T08:31:34Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 75, AS XLIII.

==Lyrics==

Early one evening 
Just as the pubs were opening 
A traveller was walking down 
A cold and rainy street 
He saw a door ajar 
Entered he a public bar 
Said, "Landlord, I would like a beer 
And something nice to eat.

I fancy some crusty bread 
And roast beef of old England 
Butter from the churn 
And tangy homemade pickles too 
And if you think you could 
Draw some bitter from the wood 
I'd be quite content to quaff 
A foaming pint or two.

I'll sit down by your open fire 
And contemplate infinity 
The quiet of your hostelry 
Shall enter in my heart 
And if a regular 
Should chance to come into the bar 
Maybe I'll engage him in 
A contest of the darts."

Come in, says the landlord, I've got 
Pre-packed fish paste sandwiches 
And soya sausage substitute 
I purchase by the tonne 
So if you fancy it 
I could defrost a bit 
And smother it up with ketchup 
On a supermarket bun.

I'll sling you a plastic pot 
Of super-sparkle-ready-brew 
As advertised on telly 
By a famus rugby scrum 
No filthy barrels here 
We serve hygenic beer 
Safely pasturised inside 
This aluminium drum.

So sit down by my fire, Squire 
I'll turn the logs on right away 
Or maybe you'd prefer to play 
My latest fruit machine 
Three cherries in a row 
That should set your heart aglow 
Or how about my jukebox 
That should really set the scene."

So the traveller sat down beside 
The polystyrene inglenook 
Plastic beads were swaying 
To an electronic sound 
On his bun began to chew 
Sank his pint of ready-brew 
He gave a ghastly gurgle 
And fell dead upon the ground.

"O dear," says the landlord 
As he turned the colour telly on 
"Another fatal accident 
The eighth this week, I fear 
If they cannot hold their own 
Why don't they stay at home 
We don't half get some funny 
Customers round here."

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

The SCA Happy Birthday Song

2009-02-12T08:24:00Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 76, AS XLIII.

Tune: Volga Boatmen

==Lyrics==

Happy Birthday! (UHH!) Happy Birthday! (UHH!) 
Gloom, destruction and despair 
People dying everywhere 
Happy Birthday! (UHH!) Happy Birthday! (UHH!)

May the candles on your cake 
Burn like cities in your wake

Your servants steal, your wife's untrue 
Your children plot to murder you.

They stole your gold, your sword, your house 
They stole your sheep, but not your spouse.

Black Death has just struck your town 
You yourself feel quite run-down.

Were I sitting in your shoes, 
I'd go out and sing the blues

May your deeds with sheep and yaks 
Equal those with sowrd and axe

Indigestion's what you get 
From the enemies you 'et

Burn the Castle and storm the keep 
Kill the Women but SAVE THE SHEEP

This one lesson you must learn, 
FIRST you pillage, THEN you burn.

Tho you're turning 29 
Age to you is like fine wine

Now you've lived another year 
Age to you is like stale beer.

So another year has passed 
Don't look now they're gaining fast!

See the wrinkles on your face 
Like the patten of fine lace

Long ago your hair turned grey 
Now it's falling out, they say.

Now you are the age you are, 
Your demise cannot be far.

I'm a leper, can't you see 
Have a birthday kiss from me.

We brought linen, white as cloud 
Now we'll sit and sew your shroud!

It's your birthday never fear 
You'll be dead this time next year.

[[Category:Songs]]
[[category:Mong]]

Text of a letter to Drachenwald

2009-02-12T08:16:39Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 78, AS XLIII.

Words: Brynna of Aelfstanbury 
Tune: "My Bonny Lies Over the Ocean"

==Lyrics==

My lord we have great news to tell you 
Too wonderful simply to write 
While you've been away at the crusades 
Your lady's been learning to fight.

Oh boy, oh boy, she's learning to handle a word, a sword. 
Oh boy, oh boy, oh what a surprise for her lord.

It's true she's a delicate creature 
A vision of sweetness and light 
We know that it's hard to believe, but 
Your lady's been learning to fight.

With a sword of rattan wrapped in duct tape, 
In armor and helmet so bright 
You'd better start practising quickly 
Your lady is learning to fight.

So polish up weapons and armour 
And hone up your skills to their height 
And say a few prayers while you're at it 
Your lady has learned to fight.

So this puts an end to carousing 
No more you'll go wenching all night 
We're sorry for the inconvenience 
But we've taught your lady to fight.

We know that you may not believe it, 
She once was so timid and meek, 
But you'd better get used to it quickly, 
Cause she won crown tourney last week.

So we thought we'd send you a letter 
And spare you a terrible scene 
Of returning at last to your homestead 
To find out that you are the queen.

[[category:Songs]]
[[category:Mong]]

Text of a letter to Drachenwald

2009-02-12T08:13:46Z

Maximillian:

Clementine

2009-02-12T08:07:47Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 88, AS XLIII.

==Lyrics==

In a cavern, in a canyon 
In the shadow of a hill 
It was there I kept a cathouse 
With my oldest brother Bill.

Oh at first we didn't prosper 
Then we started doing fine 
When a gal came down from Jasper 
By the name of CLementine

She was plain, she was scrawny, 
And she had no gift of gab, 
But she ahd the kind of quim, boys, 
That would reach right out and garb.

Oh my darling, oh my darling, 
Oh my darling, Clementine 
You are lost and gone forever, 
Dreadful sorry, Clementine.

So our days were full of laughter, 
And our nights were filled with song, 
Our safe was stuffed with money 
Clemenetine was stuffed with dong.

Then this dude came down from Jasper, 
And at last she'd met her match, 
Cause he had a rifled member, 
But she had a smooth bore snatch.

CHORUS

Brother Bill was the first to notice 
So he shouted to her "tunr!" 
But before this word was spoken 
She was split fro stem to stern.

Every day down by the grave yard 
When they toll the mission bell 
We lay a wreath of roses 
Round the quim we loved so well.

An amazon girl lived in Dumfries 
Only had her kids in two's and three's, 
She's go a sister in Maryhill, 
Says she won't but I think she will!

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

The Good Ship Venus

2009-02-12T07:18:45Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 90, AS XLIII.

==Lyrics==

'Twas on the good ship Venus, 
You really should have seen us, 
With a figurehead of a whore in bed, 
And our mast was a giant penis.

Friggin' in the riggin', 
Wanking on the planking, 
Rossing in the crossing, 
'Cos there's fuck all else to do.

The cabin boy was chipper, 
By Christ he was a ripper. 
He stuffed his ass with broken glass, 
And circumcised the skipper.

The captain of the lugger, 
He was a filthy bugger, 
Declared unfit to shovel shit, 
From one place to another.

The first mate's name was Morgan, 
By gosh, he was a gorgon, 
From half past eight he played till late, 
Upon the captain's organ.

The captain's wife was Charlotte, 
Born and bred a harlot, 
Her thighs at night were lily white, 
By morning they were scarlet.

The captain's daughter, Mabel, 
Whenever she was able, 
Would fornicate with the second mate, 
Upon the chartroom table.

The ship's dog's name was Rover, 
We turned that poor thing over, 
And ground and ground that faithful hound, 
from Teneriff to Dover.

And when we reached our station, 
Through skillful navigation, 
The ship got sank, in a wave of spunk, 
From too much fornication.

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

The Ball of Kerriemuir (Ballynore)

2009-02-12T07:12:24Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 86-87, AS XLIII.

==Lyrics==

'Twas on the first of August the party, it began. 
Now, never shall I forget, me lads, the gatherin' of the clans.

Singing, "Who hae ye, lassie, (last nicht) 
Who hae ye noo? 
The ane that hae ye last time (The mon wha hae ye last nicht) 
He canna hae ye noo."

'Twas the gatherin' o' the clans, mon, and everyone was there, 
A-playin' wi' the lassies an' tiwnin' curly hair.

John McGowan, the father, was very surprised to see, 
Four and twenty maidenheads a hanging from the tree.

There was dancin' in the meadows, there was dancin' in the ricks, 
Ye could nae hear the bagpipes for the swishing o' the pricks.

The bride was in the parlor explainin' to the groom, 
The vagina, not the rectum, is the entrance to the womb.

The queen was in the parlor, eatin' bread and honey, 
The king was in the parlor maid, and she was in the money.

The parson's wife, she was there her arse against the wall, 
Shoutin' to the alddie boys, "I'll take ye one and' all."

It's the first lady forward, and the second lady back 
And the third lady's finger in the fourth lady's crack.

It's a' the ladies back, wi' yer arses tae the wall, 
If ye can't get fucked at Keriemuir, ye'll never get fucked at all!

The village priest, he was there and on the floor he sat 
Amusing himself by abing himself and catching it on his hat.

The undertaker, he went there dressed in a line black shroud, 
Swinging on the chandelier and pissing on the crowd.

There was fuckin' i' the stable, there was fuckin' i' the ricks 
An' ye couldna' hear the music for the swishin' o' the pricks.

The mayor's daughter, she was there and kept the crowd in fits 
By jumpin' off the mantle piece and landin' on her tits.

There was screwin' on the banister, screwing on the stairs, 
Ye couldna' see the carpet for the mess o' curly hairs.

The village idiot, he was there, he was a perfect fool. 
He sat beneath the oak tree and whittled off his tool.

The village postman, he was there. The puir mon had the pox 
He could nae fuck the lassies, so he fucked the letter box.

The chimney sweep, he was there, but soon he got the boot, 
For every time he farted, he filled the room with soot.

The groom by now was excited an' racin' through the halls 
He was pullin' on his pecker an' showin' off his ball

Big John, the farmer, swore an oath, an' then he cursed an' grat 
For his forty acre corn field was completely fuckit flat.

The minister's wife was there as weel a' buckled to the front 
Wi' a wreath o' roses roun' her arse an' thrissels roun' her cunt.

The minister's dochter tae was there an' she gat roarin' fu' 
Sae they doubled her ower the middenwa' an' bulled her like a coo.

An when the ball was over, the opinion was expressed: 
Although they liked the music, the screwin' was the best.

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

The Moose Song

2009-02-12T06:49:47Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 91, AS XLIII.

==Lyrics==

When I was a young man I dated the girls 
I fondled their bodies and played with their curls 
Till my girlfriend ran off witha sailor named Bruce 
I've never been treated that way by a moose.

So, it's moose, moose, I want a moose 
I've never had anything quite like a moose 
I've had many lovers my life has been loose, 
But I've never had anything quite like a moose.

When you're tired and horny and in need of a lay, 
You go to the closet and get out some hay. 
You go to the window and spread it around, 
For moose always come when there's hay on the ground.

I've had all manner of beasties with hair 
I'd even try snakes if their fangs weren't there 
I've had me three chickens, two sheep and a goose 
But I've never had anything quite like a moose.

When I'm in the mood for an interesting lay 
I go to the closet and pull out some hay 
Then got ot the window and spread it around 
Cause a moose always comes when there's hay on the ground.

Gorillas are good for a Saturday night 
But lion and tigers they puts up a fight 
They're not as much fun when you pump their caboose 
As it is when you pump the caboose of a moose.

Stay away from the squirrels, 'cause they have sharp teeth, 
They'll bite off your nuts and they'll stuff up their cheeks, 
But if you can find a moose well then you can't go wrong, 
And that's why we are all of us singing this song.

After combing back froma tourney, late one night, 
I walked into a terrible sight. 
There lay my dear lady, as loose as a goose, 
Playing hide the salami with Marvin the Moose!

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

A Riddle

2009-02-12T06:43:23Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 92, AS XLIII.

==Lyrics==

My pretty maid, fain would I know, 
What thing it is 'twill breed delight, 
That strives to stand, that cannot go, 
That feeds the mouth that cannot bite.

CHORUS: 
With a humble down, grumble down, humble down, hey 
Humble down, grumble down, humble down, hey.

It is a pretty pricking thing, 
A pleasing and a standing thing. 
It was the truncheon Mars did use, 
A Bedward bit that maidens choose.

CHORUS

It is a friar with a bald head; 
A staff to beat acukold dead. 
It is a gun that shoots point blank, 
It hits betwixed a maiden's flanks.

CHORUS

It is a shaft of Cupid's cut, 
'Twill serve to rove, to prick, to butt. 
'Twas ne'er a maid but by her will, 
Will keep it in her quiver still.

CHORUS

It has a head much like a mole's 
And yet it loves to creep in holes. 
THe fairest maid that e'er took life, 
For love of this became a wife.

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

Seven Nights Drunk

2009-02-12T06:38:11Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 95, AS XLIII.

==Lyrics==

As I went home on Monday night drunk as drunk could be 
I saw a horse outside the door where my old horse should be 
Well I called me wife and I said to her will you kindly tell me 
Who owns that horse outside the door where my old horse should be.

Oh you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool 
Still you cannot see 
That's a lovely breeding sow me mother sent to me 
Well it's many a day I've travelled 
A hundred miles or more 
But a saddle on a breeding sow I never saw before.

As I went home on Tuesday night drunk as drunk could be 
I saw a coat behind the door where my old coat should be 
Well I called me wife and I said to her will you kindly tell me 
Who owns that coat behind the door where my old coat should be.

Oh you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool 
Still you cannot see 
That's a woollen blanket me mother sent to me 
Well it's many a day I've travelled 
A hundred miles or more 
But buttons on a blanket sure I never saw before.

As I went home on Wednesday night drunk as drunk could be 
I saw a pipe upon the shelf where my old pipe should be 
Well I called me wife and I said to her will you kindly tell me 
Who owns that pipe upon the shelf where my old pipe should be.

Oh you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool 
Still you cannot see 
That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me 
Well it's many a day I've travelled 
A hundred miles or more 
But tobacco in a tin whistle sure I never saw before.

As I went home on Thursday night drunk as drunk could be 
I saw two boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be 
Well I called me wife and I said to her will you kindly tell me 
Who owns those two boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be.

Oh you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool 
Still you cannot see 
That's two lovely geranium pots me mother sent to me 
Well it's many a day I've travelled 
A hundred miles or more 
But laces in geranium pots I never saw before.

As I went home on Friday night drunk as drunk could be 
I saw a head upon the bed where my old head should be 
Well I called me wife and I said to her will you kindly tell me 
Who owns that head upon the bed where my old head should be.

Oh you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool 
Still you cannot see 
That's a baby boy that me mother sent to me 
Well it's many a day I've travelled 
A hundred miles or more 
But a baby boy with whiskers on sure I never saw before.

As I went home on Saturday night drunk as drunk could be 
I saw an arse between the sheets where my old arse should be 
Well I called me wife and I said to her will you kindly tell me 
Who owns that arse between the sheets where my old arse should be.

Oh you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool 
Still you cannot see 
That's a lovely pumpkin that me mother sent to me 
Well it's many a day I've travelled 
A hundred miles or more 
But pumpkin going up and down I never saw before.

As I went home on Sunday night drunk as drunk could be 
I saw a prick between the thighs where my old prick should be 
Well I called me wife and I said to her will you kindly tell me 
Who owns that prick between your thighs where my old prick should be.

Oh you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool 
Still you cannot see 
That's that lovely carrot that me mother sent to me 
Well it's many a day I've travelled 
A hundred miles or more 
But a carrot sure with bollocks on I never saw before.

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

Sideways

2009-02-12T06:27:09Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 96, AS XLIII.

==Lyrics==

And now, I'll have to stop, my back is crook, I crave your pardon 
My friend at the book shop, lent me a book, The Perfumed Garden 
At first, in search of bliss, I practised all the new applied ways 
But worse, much worse than this, I did it sideways!

My Spine, is out of joint, I can't recall, my old position 
I fail to see the point, I find it all an inhibition 
My girl, she finds it tough, she used tolove the trued and tried ways 
My god, once was enough, I did it sideways!

But what of my thing! (Ba-da-da-dum) It's really shot! (Ba-da-da-dum) 
I can't do wees! (Ba-da-da-dum) It's in a knot! (Ba-da-da-dum)

So if a girl should looka t you, and tell you what she wants to do 
Although she pleads, on bended knees.... 
Don't... do... it... SIDEWAYS!

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

A Virgin's Meditation

2009-02-12T06:22:47Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 99, AS XLIII.

==Lyrics==

A virgin's life who would be leaving 
free from care and fond desire 
Ne'r deceived nor 'er deceiving 
Loving none yet all inspire.

We sit at home and knot the live long day 
A thousand harmless things we say 
But not one word of wedlocks frightful news 
Lest we may chance to think what we must loose.

Our souls are free from dire revenges 
Bosoms mischief never own 
Our wits employed in making fringes 
And embroidering our gowns

If any lover comes to play the thief 
Our natural dear cunning gives relief 
We sing and dance the tedious hours away 
And when we've nothing else to do we pray.

[[Category:Mong]]
[[Category:Songs]]

The Mong

2009-02-12T06:17:58Z

Maximillian:

#REDIRECT [[Mangy Mongol Tavern]]

Mangy Mongol Tavern

2009-02-12T06:17:26Z

Maximillian:

The '''Mangy Mongol Tavern''' is a regular purveyor of [[coffee]] and fine comestibles, by [[Royal]] appointment, at the [[Canterbury Faire]] in the [[SCA]] [[Kingdom of Lochac]].

Proprietor: Michelet de St. Clair 
Previous Proprietors: Sir Callum MacLeod, Mistress Rohesia

[[category:Mong]]

Mangy Mongol Tavern

2009-02-12T06:17:01Z

Maximillian:

The '''Mangy Mongol Tavern''' is a regular purveyor of [[coffee]] and fine comestibles, by [[Royal]] appointment, at the [[Canterbury Faire]] in the [[SCA]] [[Kingdom of Lochac]].

Proprietor: Michelet de St. Clair
Previous Proprietors: Sir Callum MacLeod, Mistress Rohesia

My Thing is my Own

2009-02-12T06:13:40Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 93, AS XLIII.

==Lyrics==
A tender young maid had been courted by many 
Of all sorts and trades as ever was any 
A fine haberdasher first spa to her fair 
Says she "I'll have nothing to do with small ware.

CHORUS:
My thing is my own, and I'll keep it so still, 
Yet other young lasses may do as they will, 
My thing is my own, and I'll keep it apart, 
And no man shall have it 'till I have his heart.

A sweet scented courtier did give her a kiss 
And promised her mountains if she would be his. 
But she'd not bleieve him, said she "it is true, 
Some coutiers promise more than they can do."

CHORUS

A master of music came with an intent 
To give her a lesson on his instrument. 
She thanks him for nothing, and bid himb e gone, 
Says she "My small fiddle shall not be played on."

CHORUS

A sly money lender then came with his cash 
But she had no mind to come under his lash 
He promised her jew-els and great stash of gold 
Said she "I'll not mortgage my little free hold"

CHORUS

A cunning clockmaker did court her as well, 
And promised her riches if she'd ring his bell. 
She looked at his clockwork, and said with a shock, 
"your pendulum is far too small for my clock."

CHORUS

A blunt lieutenant surpris-ed her placket 
And speedily started to rifle and sack it. 
So she roused herself, and she became bold, 
And forced the lieutenant to quit her stronghold.

CHORUS

Now well, I could tell of a hundred or more 
Besides all the gamsters recited before 
Who made their addresses in hopes of a snap, 
But young as she was, she did understand trap.
[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

Scotlands Depraved

2009-02-12T06:06:34Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 94, AS XLIII.

==Lyrics==
Bring out the whiskey mother 
I'm so thirsty mother 
Bring out the sheep 
I'm so horny tonight 
Bring out the sheets of rubber 
Bring out the peanut butter 
England's perverted, 
but Scotland's Depraved.

Bring out the whiskey mother 
I'm so thirsty mother 
Bring out the condoms 
I'm so restless tonight 
Bring out my little brother 
I'll have no other lover 
England's perverted, 
but Scotland's Depraved.

Bring out the whiskey mother 
I'm so thirsty mother 
Bring out the grease 
I'm feelin' frisky tonight 
Bring out my little sister 
Lord knows I've really missed her 
Bring out the peanut butter 
England's perverted, 
but Scotland's Depraved.

Bring out the whiskey mother 
I'm so thirsty mother 
Bring out the prize ram 
I'm so horny tonight 
When I'm a done with humpin' 
We'll all feast on mutton 
England's perverted, 
but Scotland's Depraved.

Out in the fields of heather 
Bring out the whips of leather 
Whip me soundly lassie 
And hear me rave 
Down where the streams' a' windin' 
Bring out the ropes for bindin' 
England's perverted, 
but Scotland's Depraved.

Bring out the whiskey mother 
I'm so thirsty mother 
I need a sheep to keep me 
warm through the night 
Lord Knows I really wanna' 
Bring out the greased Iguana 
England's perverted, 
but Scotland's Depraved.

Bring out the whiskey mother 
I'm so thirsty mother 
Bring out the sheep 
I'm so lonely tonight 
Bring out the Chimpanzeeses 
We'll give them our diseases 
England's perverted, 
but Scotland's Depraved.

Bring out the whiskey mother 
I'm so thirsty mother 
Bring out the sheep 
I'm so lonely tonight 
Bring out the can o' Cheez-Wiz 
Bring out the plastic Jesus 
England's perverted, 
but Scotland's Depraved.

Baa baa baa baa baa baa baa 
Baa baa baa baa baa baa baa 
Baa baa baa baa baa baa baa 
baa baa baa baa 
Baa baa baa baa baa baa baa 
Baa baa baa baa baa baa baa 
England's perverted, 
but Scotland's Depraved.

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

Would You Have a Young Virgin

2009-02-12T05:56:50Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 100, AS XLIII

==Lyrics==
Would you have a young virgin of fifteen years, 
You must tickle her fancy with sweets and dears, 
Ever toying, and playing, and sweetly, sweetly, 
Sing a love sonnet, and charm her Ears. 
Wittily, a prettily talk her down, 
Chase her, and praise her, if fair or brown,
:Sooth her, and smooth her,
:And teize her, and please her,
And touch but her smicket, and all's your own.

Do you fancy a widow well known in a man, 
With a front of assurance come boldly on, 
Let her rest not an hour, but briskly, briskly, 
Put her in mind of how time steals on. 
Rattle and prattle although she groan, 
Rouse her and touse her from morn till noon,
:Show her some hour,
:You're able to grapple,
Then get but her writing's and all's your own.

Do you fancy a lass of a humour free? 
That's kept by a fumbler of quality, 
You must rail at her keeper and tell her, tell her, 
Pleasure's best charm is variety. 
Swear her more fairer than all the town, 
Try her and pry her when cully's one,
:Dog her, and jog her,
:And meet her, and treat her,
And kiss with two guineas and all's your own.

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

Super-Sado-Masochistic-Also-Flagellation

2009-02-12T05:55:59Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 97, AS XLIII.

(Tune: Supercallifragilisticexpialidosious)
==Lyrics==
CHORUS: 
Super-sado-masochistic-also-flagellation, 
Different sets of manacles for every occasion, 
WHips and spurs and crops and canes cause bruises and abrasions, 
But Super-sado-masochistic-also-flagellation, 
Um-diddle-diddle-diddle, Um-diddley-aye.

Masochists like to be flogged, chained and humiliated, 
Tortured with devices that are very antiquated, 
Locked in dungeons, gagged and bound and left to suffer naked, 
The trick's to bend an arm or leg but never actually break it. 
Um-diddle-diddle-diddle, Um-diddley-aye.

Sadists like to carry whips, cause bruises, cuts and gashes, 
Like to sentence masochists to several hundred lashes, 
Tie them up ins traps and chains, puck toenails and eyelashes, 
They get aerobic workouts when delivering thrashes. 
Um-diddle-diddle-diddle, Um-diddley-aye.

Sado-masochistic pairs use pain as part of passion, 
Get their thrills from when blood spills in an unseemly fashion, 
They expect their acts of sex to be acts of aggression, 
They could give most torturers some very expert lessons. 
Um-diddle-diddle-diddle, Um-diddley-aye.

Masochists enjoy the pain, they say it brings great pleasure, 
Tie them up and prick their skin or beat them at your leisure, 
To be beaten black and blue is something that they treasure, 
While wrapped up like old King Tut in bandages or leather, 
Um-diddle-diddle-diddle, Um-diddley-aye.

Sadists like to use their fists or scratch or gouge or pummel, 
Force feed their partners excrement using a half-pint funnel, 
When their partners shout out 'stop', that's when they start the fun, so, 
That's when they will up the pace until the sadist comes, oh. 
Um-diddle-diddle-diddle, Um-diddley-aye.

Sadists like to inflict pain, it heightens their enjoyment, 
Masochists enjoy the torture that is dealt out to them, 
By bondage or by being whipped with suitable implements, 
Some like canes and other like pointed or blunt instruments. 
Um-diddle-diddle-diddle, Um-diddley-aye.

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

Would You Have a Young Virgin

2009-02-12T05:54:52Z

Maximillian: /* Lyrics */

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 100, AS XLIII

==Lyrics==
Would you have a young virgin of fifteen years,

You must tickle her fancy with sweets and dears,

Ever toying, and playing, and sweetly, sweetly,

Sing a love sonnet, and charm her Ears.

Wittily, a prettily talk her down,

Chase her, and praise her, if fair or brown,
:Sooth her, and smooth her,
:And teize her, and please her,
And touch but her smicket, and all's your own.

Do you fancy a widow well known in a man,

With a front of assurance come boldly on,

Let her rest not an hour, but briskly, briskly,

Put her in mind of how time steals on.

Rattle and prattle although she groan,

Rouse her and touse her from morn till noon,
:Show her some hour,
:You're able to grapple,
Then get but her writing's and all's your own.

Do you fancy a lass of a humour free?

That's kept by a fumbler of quality,

You must rail at her keeper and tell her, tell her,

Pleasure's best charm is variety.

Swear her more fairer than all the town,

Try her and pry her when cully's one,
:Dog her, and jog her,
:And meet her, and treat her,
And kiss with two guineas and all's your own.

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

Super-Sado-Masochistic-Also-Flagellation

2009-02-12T05:53:50Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 97, AS XLIII.

(Tune: Supercallifragilisticexpialidosious)
==Lyrics==
CHORUS:
Super-sado-masochistic-also-flagellation,
Different sets of manacles for every occasion,
WHips and spurs and crops and canes cause bruises and abrasions,
But Super-sado-masochistic-also-flagellation,
Um-diddle-diddle-diddle, Um-diddley-aye.

Masochists like to be flogged, chained and humiliated,
Tortured with devices that are very antiquated,
Locked in dungeons, gagged and bound and left to suffer naked,
The trick's to bend an arm or leg but never actually break it.
Um-diddle-diddle-diddle, Um-diddley-aye.

Sadists like to carry whips, cause bruises, cuts and gashes,
Like to sentence masochists to several hundred lashes,
Tie them up ins traps and chains, puck toenails and eyelashes,
They get aerobic workouts when delivering thrashes.
Um-diddle-diddle-diddle, Um-diddley-aye.

Sado-masochistic pairs use pain as part of passion,
Get their thrills from when blood spills in an unseemly fashion,
They expect their acts of sex to be acts of aggression,
They could give most torturers some very expert lessons.
Um-diddle-diddle-diddle, Um-diddley-aye.

Masochists enjoy the pain, they say it brings great pleasure,
Tie them up and prick their skin or beat them at your leisure,
To be beaten black and blue is something that they treasure,
While wrapped up like old King Tut in bandages or leather,
Um-diddle-diddle-diddle, Um-diddley-aye.

Sadists like to use their fists or scratch or gouge or pummel,
Force feed their partners excrement using a half-pint funnel,
When their partners shout out 'stop', that's when they start the fun, so,
That's when they will up the pace until the sadist comes, oh.
Um-diddle-diddle-diddle, Um-diddley-aye.

Sadists like to inflict pain, it heightens their enjoyment,
Masochists enjoy the torture that is dealt out to them,
By bondage or by being whipped with suitable implements,
Some like canes and other like pointed or blunt instruments.
Um-diddle-diddle-diddle, Um-diddley-aye.

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

Would You Have a Young Virgin

2009-02-12T05:46:02Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 100, AS XLIII

==Lyrics==
Would you have a young virgin of fifteen years,
You must tickle her fancy with sweets and dears,
Ever toying, and playing, and sweetly, sweetly,
Sing a love sonnet, and charm her Ears.
Wittily, a prettily talk her down,
Chase her, and praise her, if fair or brown,
:Sooth her, and smooth her,
:And teize her, and please her,
And touch but her smicket, and all's your own.

Do you fancy a widow well known in a man,
With a front of assurance come boldly on,
Let her rest not an hour, but briskly, briskly,
Put her in mind of how time steals on.
Rattle and prattle although she groan,
Rouse her and touse her from morn till noon,
:Show her some hour,
:You're able to grapple,
Then get but her writing's and all's your own.

Do you fancy a lass of a humour free?
That's kept by a fumbler of quality,
You must rail at her keeper and tell her, tell her,
Pleasure's best charm is variety.
Swear her more fairer than all the town,
Try her and pry her when cully's one,
:Dog her, and jog her,
:And meet her, and treat her,
And kiss with two guineas and all's your own.

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

Would You Have a Young Virgin

2009-02-12T05:44:55Z

Maximillian:

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 100, AS XLIII

==Lyrics==
Would you have a young virgin of fifteen years,
You must tickle her fancy with sweets and dears,
Ever toying, and playing, and sweetly, sweetly,
Sing a love sonnet, and charm her Ears.
Wittily, a prettily talk her down,
Chase her, and praise her, if fair or brown,
:Sooth her, and smooth her,
:And teize her, and please her,
And touch but her smicket, and all's your own.

Do you fancy a widow well known in a man,
With a front of assurance come boldly on,
Let her rest not an hour, but briskly, briskly,
Put her in mind of how time steals on.
Rattle and prattle although she groan,
Rouse her and touse her from morn till noon,
:Show her some hour,
:You're able to grapple,
Then get but her writing's and all's your own.

Do you fancy a lass of a humour free?
That's kept by a fumbler of quality,
You must rail at her keeper and tell her, tell her,
Pleasure's best charm is variety.
Swear her more fairer than all the town,
Try her and pry her when cully's one,
:Dog her, and jog her,
:And meet her, and treat her,
And kiss with two guineas and all's your own.

Songs

2009-02-12T05:38:27Z

Maximillian:

#REDIRECT [[Song]]

User:Maximillian

2007-12-11T11:36:19Z

Maximillian:

In the Mundane world Maximillian masquerades as William Howard, a post-graduate philosophy student at the University of Canterbury.

22 Years of age, and currently pursuing a passing fancy in esoteric studies such as Alchemy. Resident of Southron Gaard.

User:Maximillian

2007-12-11T11:35:51Z

Maximillian: