There was a bijou flamewar-ette on the Shambles mailing list about Grants of Arms and what those who bear them should be called. I believe some heralds wanted to drag the SCA kicking and screaming into the middle ages and use some kind of authentic system, so naturally there was a ruckus. This, to the tune of the Bangles’ Walk Like An Egyption, is my response to that particular attitude.
[August 2008]
All the old farts in the SCA
They use the same words, don’t you see
If they talk too quick (ay-oh-ay)
You wonder what can the meaning be
All the ageing knights at the bar,
They talk about lights and rhino-hide
There I was, no shit (ay-oh-ay)
Their belts are off-white and rather wide
Foreign wars in the days of yore, sing
Ess-see-ay oh, ay-oh-kay oh
Talk like a SCAdian
Old Pelicans love their pits
The privy’s put up, you’re set to go
These modern loos (ay-oh-ay)
Are smelly and prone to overflow.
All the founders so loved their books
Le Guin and Tolkien, T.H. White
When they’re naming things (ay-oh-ay)
The wonder is when they get it right.
Jack and Jill in their cotton drill say
Ess-see-ay oh, ay-oh-kay oh
Talk like a SCAdian
Wear your ‘Bethan garb to the feast
Pay the troll, greet the autocrat
Bow to the thrones (ay-oh-ay)
Get out your feast gear, lay it flat.
If you want to find all the peers
They’re hanging out with the pointy hats
Their Lordships too (gee-oh-ay)
The landless white trash and feastocrats
Baron Master Sir Whatsisname
Will call you “My Lord” if you’re mundane
And the heralds say (ay-oh-ay)
That’s what you do if you’re SCAdian
Will you pass in your history class? Say:
Nay-no-way-oh, ess-see-ay-oh,
Talk like a SCAdian