Copyright 2005 by Jeff Suzuki
Most of my songs are intended to be comical (your call as to whether they actually succeed) or at least ironical. I'd never written an actual tragic song before, though some may claim that I've written songs that are indeed tragedies (or was it travesties? See, that's the problem...I can't manage to be serious about any subject for longer than two sentences). As I write this (in 2010), I realize that that's a load of nonsense, as most of my songs are rather tragic. Some are even intended that way...but for the moment, let me maintain my delusion that I usually write funny material.
After listening to Barb'ra Allen for a while I decided to write a filk of it. Barb'ra Allen has a Casey at the bat feel, so I decided I wanted to write a song about someone who refused to do something, and bad things happened as a result. But who would refuse to do what?
At this point, it's important to know something about me (Jeff). The reluctant warrior is one of my favorite archetypes. There's Odysseus and Cinncinnatus; there's also Yamamoto. What about a reluctant Marshal (general) who returns to the field after some years in retirement? This led to the question of why he retired, and eventually, this song emerged.
This song is ostensibly written to the tune of Barb'ra Allen. However, it can also be sung to the tune of the dance song Heart's Ease, if you should prefer a definitely period tune (the first reference Barb'ra Allen is in Pepys' diary, so it was written some time before 1665). Except for the reference to Pensic at the song's beginning, there's nothing specifically SCA about it. I should probably change the name Mac Llewellyn to something more like a real name, but for now, you're stuck with it.
The tune is Barb'ra Allen.
In Pensic town, where I was last There was a Marshal dwelling, And all the kings, his counsel sought And his name was Mac Llewellyn The eastern king, by foes beset His Council was him telling, No man could save his losing cause, Except for Mac Llewellyn. So to the tavern, heralds went. To the place where he was dwelling. “Your king needs you to save his cause, So hasten Mac Llewellyn.” “My brav'ry failed me long ago Ten years since battle saw me.” “Your knightly oath demands you show, Though coward you may be.” The royal host was few and tired, Their foes on all sides 'round them, A desp'rate plan to break their grip, Was made by Mac Llewellyn. The battle map, he looked upon. The Captains he called that night. A battle plan, he gave to them, And sent them out to fight. Ten thousand men met in the morn, By spear and sword lives shattered, The Captains sprang Llewellyn's trap, The foe to four winds scattered. By end of day, the sun shone down, Upon the field of fallen. And lying there, amongst the dead, Their leader, Mac Llewellyn. The king said they were brave men all. Llewellyn held up his hand. “You call them brave, but others called Them father, son or husband. “And this is why my courage failed And I quit battle's glory. I could not face those left behind, Whose sorrow was my vict'ry. “So if you war for causes good, Or just for gold and glory, Are you brave enough to face the ones, Whose sorrow is your vict'ry?”