Not to be outdone, or to let the Baronial honor go undefended, Mathurin (HL Mathurin Kerbusso, of the Barony of Forgotten Sea) responded with Thinning The Forest.
A tit-for-tat bardic contest soon developed. It became apparent that the two poets were developing a series that would cover all five Baronies, from both viewpoints. Needless to say the imagined motivations and outcomes were quite different for each poem.
The end result is what I have titled the Lillies Saga. Please read it and let the author's know what you think. And consider joining in the fun on the Calontir email list (Calonet).
Done by my hand this Fourth day of June, it being the Thirtieth Year of the Society, sitting in their Calon Majesties' Barony of Forgotten Sea, I remain,
As introduction to The Defense Of The Valley, Mathurin had said;
Mathurin takes the snap...he drops back...he's looking...there's the throw,To which Hal replied, as he began Get Thee To A Granary ;
and it's a long bomb...and it's...it's...
INTERCEPTED by Isenross! The crowd goes wild!After some time to recover from the shock, Mathurin replied with Fish In A Barrel and this preamble;I can't help but think I'm throwing you a curve.
The tone turns slowly from sombre to silly....
I up the ante, a shire shanty:
>I can't help but think I'm throwing you a curve.In a separate posting Hal had challenged Mathurin to find all of the Shire's names hidden in Get Thee To A Granary , So Mathurin added this postscript to the doggerel preamble;More like a change-up. And the only way to answer that is with...a bunt! (gods, could we mix any more metaphors or what?!
>The tone turns slowly from sombre to silly....
>
>I up the ante, a shire shanty:I cannot quite say, Sir, which one I find worse;
You've not only changed meter, but as well rhymed the verse!
"A shanty" you say as you pass the staff back,
But I say it looks more like a tar-paper shack.
All well and good that may be for a Shire,
But a Barony, Your Lordship, to much more must aspire.
So stand back, your "shanty" this saga doth mar.
A sonnet's what's needed to raise Quality's bar!
P.S.When Hal responded with Join The Jolly Hunt, he also took the opportunity to instruct Mathurin in the mechanics of true Anglo-Saxon verse;And as to the count, well it seems to be right,
Tho tis hard to count Shires when they flee from the light.
And it seems to me useless, like the counting of lice
When a good bar of soap and a bath will suffice.
My last one folks! Oh, Freudentag! The piece lays at the end of this banter with Mathurin. If you aren't interested in the by-play, I have the piece and limerick copied separately in a following post.To which Mathurin, ever the apt student, replied in his prelude to Home Are The Hunters;Mathurin:
> So stand back, your "shanty" this saga doth mar.Mar this work it must, my good Mathurin!
My God poor man, have you lost your Latin?
May well carry the King to court in a car
As sing a sea-shanty with no mention of mar[e]?You complain of my rhyme and verse. Indeed the bar has been raised, but _I_ raised the bar and did so without leaving the genre of Anglo-Saxon style alliterative poetry. Shall we consult the classics? For verse and refrain, we seek "Song of Doer", its refrain being:
Daes ofereode, disses swa maeg
[That passed away, this also may]Ahhhhhh, how could I further chide you in verse in the presence of such perfection? True, rhyming is little used in A&S poetry, though _not_ unknown. When rhyming is used, rhyming on the strong halflines strengthens the four stress meter. From the "Rhyming Poem":
glaed waes ic gliwum, glenged hiwum
blissa bleoum, blostma heowum.
[I was glad, rejoicing, arrayed in the hues
of delight, of the flowers of the field.]Beautiful. I believe _I_ was the only one attempting this quite proper A.S. rhyming form, not only in my last piece, but in portions of my previous pieces as well.
However, Mathurin, since you insisted in dragging us all out of our Anglo-Saxon re-creational reverie with your "suspiciously" late-period sonnet, I will respond with a similarly crudely wrought limerick (followed by my final piece in this series).
There once was a hunt in Calontir
But the big red boar would not appear
The pig's place they did search
Seems he left in a lurch
So the shire-sons swilled down the swine's beer
>refrain being:
>
> Daes ofereode, disses swa maeg
> [That passed away, this also may]
>
>Ahhhhhh, how could I further chide you in verse in the presence of
>such perfection?But indeed, the alliterative pattern may also be categorized as iambic polychromatic cacophony, overemphasized with stressed multisyllabic participles rampant, on a field gules. With a twist of lime. And mimsy were the borogroves while the mome raths outgrabe. Sing polly-wolly doodle all the day. :)
> So the shire-sons swilled down the swine's beer
Finally, the truth is out! Well, and my throat is that parched that you may pour me a dram of even that foul brew.
O, Admiral, a bit more than that! 'Tis well you didna take up hostelry as trade, if ye pour wi' as stingy a hand as that!
If ye'll do me the favor of sculling the worst of the flotsam from the mug (especially that big gray/green bit) I will work up my courage by rendering a final bit of poesy...