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Bardic Arts

Lines Composed on Leaving Rusted Woodlands

Jehanne de Wodeford
January 4, 2002 (A.S. XXXVII)

Was it really just six years ago I met a certain knight
Who bade me come and follow him to see the Forest fight?
At my first 100 Minutes War I learned his tales were true
And thought Tanaka's fellowship I'd never ever rue.*

A scant week or so later, the Forest held a ball.
I was pulled out on the dance floor by "Little" Tom so tall.
Deonna taught me bransling, Achilles lent an ear
To my woes of pennywhistling that made cats flee in fear.

The rest, they say is history, the kind we make our own
As each new set of royals take their places on the throne.
There was archery with Macsen, and dancing with his wife.
I tried on names medieval as I started my new life.

Connaugh threatened me with canteloupe at Pennsic Twenty-Five.**
Four more wars of such magnitude I nonetheless survived.
With Fujimaki at my back to load my trebuchet
We sadly watched the melee as the Midrealm won that day.***

Loriwyn, Achilles, Jannequinne and Isabeau
Led me to the music I came to love and know.
Singing with the Tropes turned out to be a nifty trick
But you know, our favorite chorus is, "Guess what? Chuck's a d----!"

Now I'm leaving Rusted Woodlands with a psaltery on my knee.
I'm bound for far Cynagua, my true love for to see.
No matter where life takes me, no matter where I roam
he Foresters are family and Rusted Woodlands, home.

I will have adventures in far off Western lands
And sing around new firesides and take new comrades' hands.
And when they ask where I hail from, I'll smile and say proudly,
"Yo. I'm from Rusted Woodlands. You got a problem widdat?"

Copyright ©2004 Lisa A. Joseph

"Footnotes for those readers unfamiliar with this history:

* My being in the SCA and all that it entails is the doing of Master Sir Tanaka Raiko. There are times the man makes me shake my head, but I do not rue our friendship.

** Lord Connaugh of Rusted Woodlands accosted me one warm Pennsic morning and demanded that I eat some canteloupe, with dire predictions of dehydration, heat prostration, not to mention his displeasure if I refused.

*** Pennsic XXIX abbey battle, where our slingers were the "experimental sport" of the day."

-- Jehanne de Wodeford

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