The Man Who Wouldn't Die. A comedy poem.

[Thorsteinn]

The Man Who Wouldn't Die
By: Sir Cipriano De Alvarez

I've armored up a thousand times
for country and for king
And many's the tale that I could tell
or song that I could sing.

I've fought in Beltane's driving rain
And struggled for each breath
At salt wars and Oleno where
We damn near froze to death

I've had my share of bruises and
I've watched the arrows fly
But the strangest thing that I've ever seen
Was the man who would not die

He stood a towering seven feet
A gaint among men
His armour was of twelve guage steel
His hide it was of ten

From a lond most far away he came
Their champion and King
And many crafty ways he had
To make your helmet ring

The battle lines they soon were joined
And much to my suprise
I was locked in single combat with
The man who wouldn't die

We circled round a time or two
Then I opened up the show
With an underhanded wrist shot which
Is still my favorite blow

He didn't even try to block
Just brought that greatsword down
And split my helm completely from
The chin up to the crown

And though my sword was still entrapped
In the dent made in his side
"What a mighty knight" his people cheered
"Is the man who wouldn't die"

Full four and twenty fighters fell
Before his awesome might
And though many blows did land it seems
That every one was light

The battle soon was over and
By God's own blood he went
Off to the sides to doff his gear
And hammer out the dent's

The second battle soon began
And I took another try
Bearing a sword named "Rhino's Bane"
For the Man who would not die

For "Rhino's Bane" was a special blade
Immortal for the oow
And if he had not felt those blows
He'd Damn Well Feel One Now!

Three feet of rattan I center drilled
Then hollowed out the head
And filled that hole with six or maybe
seven pounds of lead

A single shot was all I'd get
I raised that sword on high
And buried it within the helm
of the man who would not die

He didn't even bat an eye
Just calmly struck me down
And then went on the clear the field
Of squires, Knights and crown

I pondered why this man was not
A'stretched out on the dirt
I guess a head shot does no good
with nothing there to hurt

The third engagement was delayed
To give the chiurgeon's time
To pry the sword from out the head
Of the man who would not die

A battle deep within the woods
Was the last fight of the day
And the men remaining on my side
Went on their knees to pray

"Oh Lord, If you care for us
Allow your moon to fall
Upon this man for that would be
The only blow he'd call"

But as we marched atop a hill
A plan occurred which I
Thought maybe could lead to the death
of the man who would not die

Upon the hill there lay a stone
A full six feet in girth
"Oh gather round my fighters bold
We'll bring this man to earth!"

Ten stalwart lads I need with me to
Strike the final blow
While the rest shall keep behemoth here
occupied below

And when he tries to fight you
From up above will fly
This boulder full upon the frame
Of the man who would not die

It happened just as I forsaw
From out the woods he ran
And stopped there right below us as
According to the plan

The men below fought bravely while
The men above did strain
To send that boulder from the hill
Onto his alleged brain

At last the stone it stirred to life
And with a final pry
We sent that boulder on it's way
To the man who wouldn't die

Knocking trees to left and right
That fearsome missle sped
And with a final bounce it came
To rest upon his head

His arms and legs were all that we
Could see beneath the stone
But when we came from atop the hill
We heard our victim groan

Astounded round him 'bout we stood
As the day bled into night
And heard him say one final time
"My lords, that blow was light!"

[Thorsteinn]

The Battles of Pennsic 93
(A comment on current trends)
Frederick of Holland, Dux
August, AS 46 (2011)

Oh, Daddy tell me once again, how all this came to be,
The way we fight the battles now at Pennsic Ninety-three.
My son, it started long ago, I'm sorry to relate
Way back at Pennsic Thirty-nine, or maybe Thirty-eight.
It started in a Marshal's Court when we first heard the song
That chorus that says someone *else* is always in the wrong.

CHORUS:

"Light, Light, Light, Excessive" --
That's the whiner's song
"He's a cheat and she's a thug,
And I have done no wrong."
Light, Light, Light, Excessive --
Echoes loud the cry
"I've witnesses in Marshal's Court
So I need never die!"

The first loss was a man at arms, who, passing through a line
Struck a whiner on the helm which sent him down just fine
The whiner cried, "you were behind and struck me fo-ul-ly"
His witnesses all gathered round and with him did agree.
The Marshals passed their judgment: "Don't you bother coming back.
The witnesses all spoke as one, so chivalry you lack."

CHORUS

The next one was a brand-new Squire, adorned with belt so red
A whiner tried to slaughter him but was put down instead.
In court he said "I touched his helm, it must have been quite good."
His witnesses agreed with him; 'twas like a harp-seal clubbed.
The Marshals passed their judgement: "You disgraced your noble Knight;
Your skin's as thick as rhino-hide, now get out of our sight."

CHORUS

The next year was a triumph for the power of the whine,
For in the castle battle they took out a whole front line.
In Court they brought in witnesses, and all of them agreed
They'd been hit by a break-in charge made with excessive speed.
The Marshals passed their judgement: "You are banned forever more.
You took three and one quarter strides before you hit that door."

CHORUS

The Knights and Earls were taken down; a Duke was brought to stand,
He'd been a spearman in the back and hadn't hit a man.
But each and every witness said, "Since Dukes hit hard, of course,
We know that even when they miss, it's with excessive force!"
The Duke, dumfounded, said no word, 'cause what else could he do?
The Marshals said, "You've no defense; your fighting days are through."

CHORUS

The Courts grew longer in each year, as Knight and warrior fell
Each person needed witnesses to watch their actions well
The whiners always seemed to have whate'er a man might bring
Plus two or three or twenty-five in chorus for to sing.
And now at Pennsic Ninety-three, it's come to this excess,
There's only ten upon each side and a thousand witnesses.

(sing-ing)

CHORUS

"Light, Light, Light, Excessive" --
That's the whiner's song
"He's a cheat and she's a thug,
And I have done no wrong."
Light, Light, Light, Excessive --
Echoes loud the cry
"I've witnesses in Marshal's Court
So I need never die!"