Guardsmen of Eoforwic (Eat, Drink and Be Merry) After Pennsic XXIV, in the City's XXth Year

Master Hector of the Black Height

Broach a new keg for the guardsmen of Eoforwic

Clear off the table and bring forth your best!

Broach a new keg for the City's proud shield-wall

Then drink to the Northlands and damned be the rest!

 

Remember the days when Duke Finnvarr did land here,

Think well on the time of the True Stick's first blow;

Then toast Baron Aeden who taught us his war-ways

And made us the best, that great triumph we'd know.

 

Remember John Slaughterfield, mighty and proud he was,

Think on good Two Cliffs, so graceful and kind.

Remember Otomo and Alistair Kirk

And good Lothar von Wülfing; none better you'll find.

 

So broach a new keg...

 

Remember Wulf Borison, fast as the North wind,

And what of mad Kaffa, her laugh and her spear?

Remember the Hairy man, Grimwulf the war-wise,

How into new glory the shield-wall he'd steer?

 

And what about Gunnar, the one they call King's-Shield?

And what now of Agnar, his spear and sharp eye?

Come drink deep to Eoin, to Traviss and Mort-man,

To Tarver and Ælfwyne; their names shall not die.

 

So broach a new keg...

 

Remember brave Larmer and Edouard and Heoroward

Tell all of Torbin and Eanor too;

Then toast scouts like Nicolaa, fleet as fair Ceridwyn,

Eyes for the wolf when the foe we would view.

 

I give you our Captain, brave Angus Albhanni;

Pray drink to Vychata, to Albrecht and Rhys,

To Morgan and Percival, Ofig and Max

Who all wear the bear tabard in war and in peace.

 

So broach a new keg...

 

Think well of the fyrdmen of Calon's proud southlands

Who pound on their shields as we dance and we sing;

Remember Queen Eislinn who loved well the Northlands,

And Sean of far Wolves Keep, whose sword-blows loud ring.

 

Remember the open field stretching before us,

A Tyger's flank turning and chaos our pay;

Remember the bridge and the spears thick as thistles

Which City-men trampled to take the hard day?

 

So broach a new keg...

 

The faces are legion, the battles are legends,

The fame of our City we build and we spread;

For honour we stand and with honour we'll triumph

Or fall to a man amidst mountains of dead.

 

Good comrades, good fighting and never surrender,

With shields of flame-scarlet and eyes icy-hard.

The North-wolves are best but of them we are better:

For Lord Mayor and glory! Waeshael, City Guard!

 

So broach a new keg for the guardsmen of Eoforwic

Clear off the table and bring forth your best!

Broach a new keg for the City's proud shield-wall

Then drink to the Northlands and damned be the rest!