In choosing what we wanted to submit to the Poetry and Song contest we might all discard ideas that should still be heard. This is a thread for those, as well as for people who might not want to submit themselves to a judging.
Here's a bit of barbarian saga, this part meant to be sung upbeatly and with each syllible given its own beat. I didn't submit it partly because it's not a complete work, and partly because it's rather silly-sounding.
"And up spoke Seven Wolf/
Bright, and bold, and brave of chin/
To grab us all by our failing hearts/
And lift us high with his grin!"
I thought I had a few songs to post here, but I seem to have lost them in a recent hard drive transfer. :(
[note]
I wrote this awhile back, and thus it doesn't qualify for LC's contest, but here's an old Riddesgaard folk song from my world.[/note]
[ic= In Kathyn Dale, by Silversea]
In Kathyn Dale, their lived a maid,
In Kathyn Dale, by Silversea.
The fairest girl was ever born,
And I loved her, and she loved me.
By Silversea, the wind blows cold,
The grass grows long, the stones sit old,
And hearts are bought, and love is sold,
And time by time, the same tales told,
In cruel Kathyn Dale.
We met when autumn moon was high,
In Kathyn Dale, by Silversea.
In silver dress, and golden shoes,
She danced, and gave her smile to me.
When winter's ice was on the roof
In Kathyn Dale, by Silversea,
We sang beside the firey hearth,
She smiled, and gave her lips to me.
By Silversea, the wind blows cold,
The grass grows long, the stones sit old,
And hearts are bought, and love is sold,
And time by time, the same tales told,
In cruel Kathyn Dale.
When spring was dreaming in the fields,
In Kathyn Dale, by Silversea,
In Raiyn's shrine, where candles burned,
She stood and pledged her troth to me.
When summer burned upon the hills
In Kathyn Dale, by Silversea,
The ribbons were hung in the town,
But she came not to marry me.
By Silversea, the wind blows cold,
The grass grows long, the stones sit old,
And hearts are bought, and love is sold,
And time by time, the same tales told,
In cruel Kathyn Dale.
When autumn's moon had come again
In Kathyn Dale, by Silversea,
I saw her dance in silver dress -
The man she danced for was not me.
When winter brought its cruel fog
In Kathyn Dale, by Silversea,
I walked out from the city walls,
"No more will that place torment me."
By Silversea, the wind blows cold,
The grass grows long, the stones sit old,
And hearts are bought, and love is sold,
And time by time, the same tales told,
In cruel Kathyn Dale.
[/ic]