Fan Poems

I suppose most people like poems. I decided to start this article to let all people add some poetry about Redwall whenever they want. It is recommended to sign your name after each poem you do if you want credit for them.

The BallyHare

(Song of the BallyHare, composed by himself)

He's here,

He's there,

He's everywhere

He's Tallyare

Dallyare

Dillywin doo

He's Merryhare

Hairyhare,

Derrylong doo

But really, his name,

None know, tis true.

That's Ballyhare,

M' good sir to you! BallyHare (talk) 06:42, June 9, 2014 (UTC)

The Thimbleweck Bob

(Otter dance song)

Down by the Thimbleweck, Thimbleweck, Thimbleweck

Down by the Thimbleweck, The Thimbleweck Bob

All ye braw laddies, ho! Pick ye oop a pretty lass, oh!

Spin, spin, spin around! Tap y' feet an' drop ye down!

Spin, spin, spin around! Clap y' paws an' skip a bound!

That's the way t' do it, ho! Down by the river, oh!

Down by the Thimbleweck, Thimbleweck, Thimbleweck

Down by the Thimbleweck, The Thimbleweck Bob! BallyHare (talk) 06:42, June 9, 2014 (UTC)

Redwall acrostic

Red stone makes this abbey

Every season since Martin's time it has standed

During the harvest, the planting and the swimming in the pond.

When will Redwall come to an end? Not anytime soon.

All comes to an end, but little stays around for as long as Redwall has so far.

Little Dibbuns skip bed and showers when they can, unlike abbotts, abbesses and recorders.

Large badgers are friends of the old Redwall Abbey

Ivanovsson 23:23, 2 November 2008 (UTC)

Sometimes Redwall (a version of Sometimes me, but about Redwall)

Sometimes I'm sturdy as a mountain.

Sometimes I'm weak in certain spots as air.

Sometimes I'm beautiful as a rain forest.

Sometimes I'm ugly as Kotir.

Sometimes I'm populated as London.

Sometimes I'm abandoned as Atlantis.

But all the time I'm Redwall, just that!

Ivanovsson 23:23, 2 November 2008 (UTC)

Oh, Whoa

Oh whoa, that's what they say ta me!

Oh whoa, he's bigger than a wolverine!

Whoever said we're taller's right,

but we ain't stouter, cause we are wolves!

Oh whoa, that's what they say ta me!

Oh whoa, he's bigger than a wolverine!

My momma always told me,

the way she cooked so nice,

was by caching a lot o' right plump mice!

Oh whoa, that's what they say ta me!

Oh whoa, he's bigger than a WOLVERINE!

--Amesco 22:10, December 22, 2011 (UTC)

A Seagoing Ballad

Oooooohhhh, I know a ship with the laziest crew

That ever did sail on the seas,

Her bowsprit is busted, her riggin' is knotted,

Her boards are all mossy, like trees.

Her sails were of purple, an' green, blue, and red,

Her deckrails were made out of bones,

An' since all 'er crew were so dreadfully slack,

They called her the ol' No-Job Jones!

I'll faaaaaaace....

Battles 'n Shipwrecks n' Thunder n' Lightnin'

An' cold winter snow winds that moan,

But, oh, lackaday, jus' keep me away

From that 'orrible ship No-Job Jones!

The Cap's so lazy 'e slumps in his bed,

All day from the dawn til' the night;

Some days he won't even get up for a meal,

For 'is jaws are too tired to bite;

An' the mates always snoring, the tiller forgotten,

The ship driftin' off who-knows-where;

An' the lookout won't look, and the cooky won't cook;

Ain't none of 'em got any care!"

I'll faaaaaaace....

Battles 'n Shipwrecks n' Thunder n' Lightnin'

An' cold winter snow winds that moan,

But, oh, lackaday, jus' keep me away

From that 'orrible ship No-Job Jones!

One day the ol' ship ran afoul of another,

A pirate rig called Jamboree,

'Er cap'n was shoutin' "How dare you ol' ragbags

To ram me, the king of the sea?"

An' 'e sent all his crew to board the ol' Jones,

To teach 'em a lesson that day;

They charged at the lazy ol' bums of a crew,

Preparing their foebeasts to slay.

I'll faaaaaaace....

Battles 'n Shipwrecks n' Thunder n' Lightnin'

An' cold winter snow winds that moan,

But, oh, lackaday, jus' keep me away

From that 'orrible ship No-Job Jones!

Well, the Jamboree's Crew never stood any chance;

Five tripped on the moss-covered boards,

An' a dozen got tangled in that snarled-up riggin',

Suspended high off o' the floor,

Eight of 'em slipped off the old broken bowsprit;

The rest stubbed their paws on the bones;

An' they all fled away; to this day, they all say,

Keep away from the ol' No-Job Jones!

I'll faaaaaaace....

Battles 'n Shipwrecks n' Thunder n' Lightnin'

An' cold winter snow winds that moan,

But, oh, lackaday, jus' keep me away

From that 'orrible ship No-Job Jones!

From that 'orrible, terrible, awful, unbearable,

Nasty ol' ship No-Job Jones!

From "Gingiverian" by ScottyBlue

Martin the Warrior

A young boy forced to serve a lord.

This Mouse of the North fought the Stoat for his sword.

While gaining new friends and also new foes.

As this young mouse fought his bloodrath arose.

Journeying south, he wandered far.

To the mountain Lord, who gave him a star.

The warrior saved the woodlanders all.

The wicked cat queen, by his sword, did she fall.

Now for his life, the battle became.

They needed him there to help and sustain.

He did heal but at a cost, the memories of his past were lost.

He traveled north to find his shore.

Recalling all the times before.

Within the thousand grains of sand.

Was that awful, barren land.

He heard the tale. He knew the end.

To them, a promise would he send.

That all was well, their vows made good.

To rest in peace, just as they should.

His story told. Told with a vow.

Martin the warrior would he be now.

Charie Swordmaid ^Talk! 23:33, 2 November 2008 (UTC)

Matthias

Still a young boy, but with warrior’s eyes.

A fighter they’d see when the need would arise.

True to his code, and true to his rhyme.

He was their hero, for it was his time.

Fighting for life, he strove to restore.

His great abbey to peace, and plenty once more.

Charie Swordmaid ^Talk! 23:33, 2 November 2008 (UTC)

Mossflower wood

Leaves rustling in a gentle breeze.

Sun filtering through the branches high above my head.

The song of the birds ringing in my ears.

Sweet smelling herbs growing around me.

Trees tower over me.

Through countless storms and hardships they’ve endured.

This is Mossflower Wood.

Charie Swordmaid ^Talk! 23:33, 2 November 2008 (UTC)

Red Stone

The great redstone walls.

The blocks smooth to my touch.

Towering high above my head as they reach into the sky.

I see myself sitting with my back to the structure.

Breathing in the crisp, cool Mossflower air.

I hear laughter all around me.

I see our abbey defenders.

Standing straight and true.

Fearless as always.

I take a deep breath as my eyes close.

Slumber almost upon me.

Three words escape my lips as I drift away on the cool summer breeze.

Redwall.

My home.

Charie Swordmaid ^Talk! 23:33, 2 November 2008 (UTC)

The River Moss

I walk along the edge of the river. Slipping effortlessly into the crystal waters.

The breath driven from me by the chill.

I resurface, gulping in fresh air to dive again.

Bubbles escaping my lips as I gape at the beauty around me.

Soft sands under my feet.

Swirling, eddying, water.

Smooth stones, worn down by time.

That is the River Moss.

Charie Swordmaid ^Talk! 23:33, 2 November 2008 (UTC)

Who am I

I was sculpted by the heavens.

Then sent here from above.

My steel glistening in the moon’s light.

This keen edge slicing through death.

Causing devastation and bloodshed.

Love and mercy lost to my blade.

Held to the warriors code I protect against evil.

I am the sword of Martin.

Charie Swordmaid ^Talk! 23:33, 2 November 2008 (UTC)

Redwall

It rests in Mossflower wood

where Kotir once stood.

For all creatures to behold

a fortress stands for seasons untold.

from its sandstone walls colored in red,

to the bell tower high over head.

Redwall is known for harmony and peace,

their hospitality and wonderful feasts.

Though many have tried to conqure Redwall,

and steal its tapastry from the Great Hall

warriors have risen up when needed

until the enemy is finally defeated.

Matthias, Mariel, Triss, and Dannflor

have done this, and so many more.

From it's Abbots and Abbesses, recorders and cooks

I won't tell it all incase you read the books.

--Mariel of Redwall 17:10, 5 November 2008 (UTC)

(it's not my best, but hey)

These eyes

(Note, this is sad)

These eyes have seen a lot of pain,

Sorrow mourning and destruction

I'm surprised I have stayed sane

For now I am a dormant eruption

I have seen comrades

there very existence taken

For their deaths I sing a sad senerade

for inside I am violently shaken

these eyes have seen

the dark scars of war

the nightmares so keen

my eyes grow sore

I have cried

Many sad tears

'for my mates mates who have died

over the years

For of my life I choose to rhyme

I think and dread

of those who have vanished o'er time

their faces locked in my head

These eyes

now tough and hard

have seen through those lies

and scarce let down their gaurd

I pray for the day

my eyes forbear to shine

for in death I will say

but two lines

"my eyes, these eyes, are now to a rest. Forgiven the sin they have seen."

Sambrook the otter ^Talk! 19:52, 26 October 2008 (UTC)

Summer of the Scourge

Taken from A Warrior Goes On...

"His lust for battle, the power he sought.

The scourge had come upon them.

Against this force of doom they fought.

The scourge had come upon them.

A hunger for blood consumed his soul.

The scourge had come upon them.

Into their hearts he bore a hole.

The scourge had come upon them.

No warrior to defend them now.

No brave ones to be found.

To find a hero, they new not how.

One, who was strong and sound.

But soon they saw an orphaned son.

Standing taller than the rest.

Unto the battle, would he run.

While fighting to his best.

The warriot told of in the rhyme.

In code they found his name.

I-am that is, it was his time.

Still Matthias all the same."

Charie Swordmaid ^Talk! 22:00, 5 November 2008 (UTC)

Hidden for Him

Taken from A Warrior Goes On...

From mountains far.

Forged by a Lord.

A shining star.

A hidden sword.

From blows you've delt.

And foes you've slain.

Secrete thy belt.

With shield its lain.

And now the last.

In cave concealed.

A guardian past.

Thy warrior's shield.

In Vane of Weather and Tomb of Stone.

Hide up thy treasures for him alone.

Charie Swordmaid ^Talk! 22:00, 5 November 2008 (UTC)

The Armory

Taken from A Warrior Goes On...

"The breastplate made for a friend but worn by thee.

Symbolising strength and dignity.

A shirt of protection that no sword can get past.

For hundreds of years they shall see it last.:: Where them with pride.

But keep it in stride.

For to these you owe your life."

Charie Swordmaid ^Talk! 22:00, 5 November 2008 (UTC)

Lenora

Taken from Lenora Longtail

"From rising suns. To fading stars.

A new day has begun.

But, no good shall come of this.

Nay, not till it's done.

Hearts will cry.

And tears will burn.

Even to the last.

Good friends shall die.

Though tide will turn.

You'll now learn of her past."

Charie Swordmaid ^Talk! 22:00, 5 November 2008 (UTC)

Hunted Hunter

Heart pounding, paws thumping

Leaves sounding out

A whistle of air, body slumping

Dead without a doubt

Teeth bared in frustration

Failed in its mission

Struck too hard

Too fast

Merciful in its regard

Not dead, still alive

Blood running

The woodlander survives

By his cunning

Lives to seek revenge

To the one who had given

A taste of death

Heart pounding, paws thumping

Woodlands silent

A whistle of air, body jumping

In remembrance of violent

Deeds, atrocities committed

Like lightning, blade flash

Neck slitted

Blood arcing in a wide splash

Eyes, clouding up in memory

Zaran Rhulain Image:Tiria_and_Tagg.jpg | 115px | ^Talk! 01:16, 6 November 2008 (UTC)

Herbal Remedies

To help old beasts when their bones creak

Prickly bark, comfrey, burdock you must seek

For the chills and aches of head

Hemlock, beetroot, then lie in bed

If the stomach of the ailing will not rest

Chew some lavender then digest

Wounds of war which will pain

Horehound, yarrow, and plantain

While rest, come not sleep

Valerian, chamomile slowly seep

When its hot and you have to sprint

Drink cold tea, with hint of mint

Zaran Rhulain Image:Tiria_and_Tagg.jpg | 115px | ^Talk! 21:07, 8 November 2008 (UTC)

Salamandastron

When the earth was young

And the mountain formed

Fire had sprung

The mountain it transformed

Million of seasons add to its past

Millions more seasons it will last

When the fire was gone, it was void

Then came a badger and some hares

A fortress and a home, it was employed

Salamandastron, they would call it theirs

Over time, their numbers swelled

Fighting off ruthless evils

Protecting the country they were compelled

Vermin conquerers were in upheaval

Then an abbey was built

Redwall was its name

Founded by a warrior, to the hilt

Allied to each other, both the same

Stories exaggerated, lies told

Redwall and Salamandastron

Riches beyond measure they hold

To greed, vermin had succumb

Salamandastron, many times it was sought

Vermin leaders all sneering

Death the Long Patrol had wrought

Vermin now fearing

The hares of the Long Patrol

The berserk badgers from

The mountain of Salamandastron

Zaran Rhulain Image:Tiria_and_Tagg.jpg | 115px | ^Talk! 22:02, 8 November 2008 (UTC)

Bloodwrath

Eyes red

Teeth in a snarl

Bloody haze

Paws clenching, gnarled

The idea of delay

Your enemy's head on a platter

One lifetime, one season, or one day

Time does not matter

Whether an army or one

Death shall be your companion

Stampeding through ranks or woodland

Or crossing an abyss of a canyon

Living for that one moment

When you have your mortal foe

In front of you, snarling or begging

Honeyed lies will not cover what you know

The sound of bones cracking

Hide splitting

Weapon whistling

Paws working with savage delight

Finally when your enemy

Is on knees begging for mercy

Don't hesitate, remember the atrocities

Dishonorable scum who beg for life, after taking many others

End your foe's life quick

A mercy killing no less

Doing it slow will make it no better

The bloodwrath demands nothing else

Zaran Rhulain Image:Tiria_and_Tagg.jpg | 115px | ^Talk! 01:00, 9 November 2008 (UTC)

Cellar Ballads

Ohhhhh, what I wouldn't do

To wet my lips, with that good ole drink

Nutty, brown, and delicious

October Aaaaaaaaale

I'd hack a rat, split a stoat

Wack a weasel and turn him into a coat

For goooooood ooooold ciderrrrrr

Strangle a mole and mince a sparrow

Shoot ten foxes with an arrow

Fight a dragon with my trusty flagon

Full of nuhuhuhuhut brooooowwwwnnnn beeeeeheeeeeyer

Save my ma and the bread

Shake a stoat in a tizz

And throw him overhead

Dandelion fizzzzzzz

Oh if I feel sick or pale

What makes my eyes shine?

Some good October Ale

And sweet elderberry wine

Zaran Rhulain Image:Tiria_and_Tagg.jpg | 115px | ^Talk! 01:44, 9 November 2008 (UTC)

Lenora's Song of the Seasons

Taken from Lenora Longtail

Such a lovely spring mornin.

The birds singin sweet.

The hills are adorned.

With flowers so neat.

In the fall dancin round

Oh, the trumpets they'll sound.

They shall sing to the sun.

And laugh in the snow.

Though I am but one.

To Redwall I go.

Yes, to Redwall I go.

Charie Swordmaid ^Talk! 02:51, 11 November 2008 (UTC)

Fight for Life

The air contains danger

The senses surrounded

Every enemy a stranger

The alarm sounded

A whirl, a whistle, a twang of bow

Death is coming, beasts laid low

The yelling, the screaming

All in pain

War is oh so deadly

Is it in vain?

Goodbeasts badbeasts

All have life

Yet taken so easily

With a swish of a knife

The sounds of war

Drowns out peace

The life before

Shall be ceased

Killing is not easy

To take a life

Vibrant and alive

Kill not to survive

But kill, so to end the strife

Zaran Rhulain Image:Tiria_and_Tagg.jpg | 115px | ^Talk!

Redwall Abbey

Golden rays glowin,

Red rock vibrant and strong,

Peacful creatures a singin,

Their voices, a unified throng,

Food, games, laughter, and fun,

Oh, that's the Abbey life,

The red walls, basking, in the sun,

For now, there is no strife,

But not all times are good, you see,

There are the days of war,

Many do suffer, not just me,

Some's day's of life, no more,

But ne'r will we see Redwall fall,

Nay, it shall stand forever,

For Redwall Abbey's a home for all,

Will they give in? Never!

Charie Swordmaid ^Talk! 05:27, 14 November 2008 (UTC)

Rulers of Redwall

(This isn't the best poem, but I try)

Redwall is ruled by an Abbot

Or perhaps it's ruled by an Abbess

Either, they wear a long habit

Same as every Redwaller

A habit of dark brown-green

It began with a mouse and her kin

Her name was Abbess Germaine

A founder along with Martin

Thurrn the Ranger

Moving On

There is a voice, that has no name

It comes with evening or behind the rain

I have no time now to stop and explain

I just keep moving, 'cause it helps to ease the pain

The night has music, that calls to me

across the canyons of an endless sea

I have no time now, to stop and explain

I just keep moving, cause it helps to ease the pain

Zaran Rhulain Image:Tiria_and_Tagg.jpg | 115px | ^Talk! 03:29, 23 November 2008 (UTC)

Shorebeast and Shark

Oh did I ever tell yer,

Bout the shorebeast 'n' the shark?

Tis a tale of woe 'n' sorrow,

Of one night in the dark,

On me ship there was a shorebeast,

Afraid great of the sea,

The winds was rising proper,

But the queen, oh still was she,

Now this shorebeast were a coward,

N' hid in his cabin long,

He barred us all from entering

I wondered what was wrong,

Then lo! From the millpond water,

Came a mighty shark,

For dinner he wanted the shipdeck,

For pudden he wanted the mast,

Now the cap'n yells a warnining,

He cries 'All paws on deck!'

But the shorebeast, he was crying,

He came out a nervous wreck,

Then he started weeping,

About how life wasn't fair,

The shark reached out the water,

Patted him and said 'There, there',

The shorebeast he ran screamining,

And the shark he laughed aloud,

And the crew was laughing with him,

At the shorebeast run aground

Zaran Rhulain Image:Tiria_and_Tagg.jpg | 115px | ^Talk! 22:12, 26 November 2008 (UTC)

Poem for Boar the Fighter

by Martinfangirl556

In his last dream, he walked alone

A vision that only he would know

It told of death, destruction, and pain

Lord of all, he would be slain.

Salamandastron is a mysterious place

The catacombs, tunnels, and ancient badger's graves

The perilous fighting Long Patrol

Undefeated, they win the whole.

The ancient badger script gave this Lord a note

No one knows by whom it was wrote

It brought a very disturbing tale

Boar the Fighter's spirit was about to set sail.

Nobeast knew it but Boar the Fighter

Son of Lord Brocktree, nobeast was mightier

Yet that last night with all his friends

He broke the news about his bitter end.

Martin, Gonff, and Boar the Fighter

Went to slay the awful vermin blighters

Boar himself indeed was slain

By a mass of vermin, he went down in pain.

So he went through his suffering alone

He died like a hero, a great true one

He gave all that he could give

Gave his life so Martin and his friends would live.

He went down to a seaside grave,

that brave warrior, his life he gave

The very bravest warrior

Son of Lord Brocktree, the heroic Boar.

Marching Song for a Vermin Queen

By Balfour the Wiley

This poem is not very well written and will not make all that much sense if you are not have not read the Redwall Wikia Pass a Long. This was written by Saltatrix on the way to Mossflower.

Hail to The Mistress of Destiny,

True daughter of Vulpez, the Cunning

For your victory, we are running,

To Mossflower, lest we be

Out-sped by the corsairs,

The vile scum of salty airs.

Those pirates who of a badger were afraid.

Onward, to conquest, the courageous vixen cried.

At the tips of our blades, our enemies died.

In malignant heaps they were laid.

We slew each lowly beast, otters and mice.

For the sake of Esmeralda, the thrice

Victorious and never betrayed.

The Long Patrol

Sometimes I sit,straight back and all,

And think about leaving Redwall,

And travel along the snake of blue,

To find brave hares, noble and true.

They would be as fast as a gale,

And be able to follow a trail,

Patrol hares, so swift and tall,

Great commanders, warriors all!

Then after we'd have some food and drink,

And hear some medals go clinketty-clink,

They'd rise and march away,

And call, "Come join us someday!"

This poem was taken from the poems of Mauran Axestripe.

Mauran Axestripe ^{Talk to me!}, 05:12, 30 December 2008 (UTC)

Taggerung!

Swift and silent as a breeze,

Always careful not to sneeze,

Taggerung!

Oh Taggerung, none can best thee,

Even those further than thy can see.

Taggerung! Zann Juska Taggerung!

Deyna, the babe at the ford,

Who was taken by a vermin lord,

Taggerung!

Deyna, an otter brought up to kill,

Even though 'twas against his will.

Taggerung! Zann Juskarath Taggerung!

Gruven Zann, false Taggerung,

Could prob'ly be killed with a bung,

Taggerung!

"Gruven Zann! Juskazann!

Take our name, rule our clan."

Taggerung! Zann Juskazann Taggerung!

Ruggan Bor, a dangerous fox,

Wish he was shut in a box,

Taggerung!

Ruggan Bor,

Awfully tall,

Taggerung! Zann Juskabor Taggerung!

Swift and silent as a breeze,

Always careful not to sneeze,

Taggerung!

Oh Taggerung, none can best thee,

Even those further than thy can see.

Taggerung! Zann Juska Taggerung!

This poem was taken from the poems of Mauran Axestripe.

Mauran Axestripe ^{Talk to me!}, 05:34, 30 December 2008 (UTC)

Log-a-Log

Ho, Log-a-Log wuz a meany beast,

Could finish a whole Red'all feast,

Sharp rapier an' ears so fine,

Bolting down food, guzzlin' wine!

Oh, Log-a-Log 'as a tum like yores,

He'll kick ye down on four paws,

Crack yore back, break yore tail,

Then on yore 'ead he'll shove a pail!

Once he went out on a boat,

Sliced a ferret an' chopped a stoat,

An' a young shrew named Brodda Tog

Yelled, "Hip hooray for Log-a-Log!"

Yep, this is another poem by Mauran Axestripe.

Mauran Axestripe ^{Talk to me!}, 23:33, 31 December 2008 (UTC)

Soren’s Ballad

Part One

The sad fate of my Holt is told

In this song.

Of death and hate, of love and fate.

In the life of one still so young.

My Holt destroyed, my family dead,

The back of a spear cracked over my head.

The life of a slave chained to an oar.

My paws are sore, my back is rent.

My last little bit of energy spent.

The bosons whip cracks over the back.

Of even one slave who was seeming to slack.

My friend and I were planning escape.

The boson’s knife we had in our hands.

The click of the lock and vengeance were planned.

The claws were swung, my back was torn.

My life was finally spent.

The Dark Forest gates were open to me as I sailed

On the stormy sea.

Written by:--Soren Rudderdale (The Warrior) ^{Talk Matey!} 20:52, 10 January 2009 (UTC)

Woodland Lullaby

Taken from A Coneslinger's Revenge

In the morning, the morning, the morning,

Midst leaves of great trees,

Skylarks do sing, do sing, do sing,

Their song carries on the breeze.

Brooks gaily babble, babble, babble,

Flowing into a stream,

Filled with small fishes, fishes, fishes,

Trout, pike, and bream.

In the evening, the evening, the evening,

The light begins to die,

Sun goes to sleep, sleep, sleep,

Stars twinkle in the sky.

So hush little baby, baby, baby,

And drift into a slumber,

Don't wake till the dawn, till the dawn, till the dawn,

Then I'll pick for thee a small yellow flower.

Written by: Pinedance Coneslinger^Talk!--Pinedance Coneslinger 00:37, 17 January 2009 (UTC)

Salamandastron

They say it's bigger than Redwall,

And that it lies right by the sea.

More than 300 paces tall,

That's much taller than me!

Ruled by badgers, home to hares,

A tall hill made of rock.

They say that all vermin it scares,

It's so safe they don't need a lock.

One day I may go there,

To see what I will see.

Us badgers are quite rare,

One day the ruler may be me!

Taken from the poems of: Mauran Axestripe ^{Could you point me to Redwall Abbey?}, 23:23, 22 January 2009 (UTC)

Trisscar Swordmaid

A squirrelmaid, born of a fighter with swords,

The best in many a-season.

Taken into slavery, she was beaten and whipped,

Living her years without reason.

Her family was dead, killed off by the ferrets,

Gone now were all her kin.

Saddened by that last one un-pitying act,

She sought to avenge the sin.

Stealing the ruler's best ship from the fleet

She and two friends sailed away.

Chased on the high seas, but away from the ferret,

She came to Mossflower one day.

And to Redwall Abbey, where it felt just like home;

The seasoned, yet peaceful abode.

There she picked up the mighty and legendary sword,

Humbled, yet proud of her load.

And with a spirit of freedom ringing about her

The squirrelmaid defeated her oppressor.

She freed all the slaves and restored peace to the island;

Now no one dared to mess with her!

Sailing back to the Abbey the maid lived her days'

Never failing too protect her friends.

All vermin leave with haste at the sound of her name

All the blaggards, foes, and fiends!

The greatest with swords, true to her values,

All of the vermin have paid.

Great is the name, ne'er to be forgotten,

The name of Trisscar Swordmaid!

--Laurel Haremaid ^{Oooh look, a pastie!} 07:23, November 3, 2010 (UTC)

The Spirit of Martin the Warrior

A flying stone

Cuts to the bone

And swords bring us great fear

But nothing can harm our Abbey

While Martin the Warrior is here!

The tapestry

With majesty

Hangs there in Great Hall

And while he watches over us,

We know our Abbey won’t fall!

--Martin the Loony Am being… Mysterious… 03:38, 8 July 2009 (UTC)

The Prayer of an Oar Slave

God Almighty, hear my cry

Over the ocean, and by and by

To escape this Hell, I do try.

The pain reminds me I am alive

How I wish I could curl up and die

My paw doth falter; I drop the oar.

‘Twas not my fault that I was sore,

Fear immerses me to the core.

He and his whip will be coming ‘round,

For it is a mistake he cannot ignore.

His yell tells me that I did slack.

I feel the whip across my back.

I hear it crack, and crack, and crack.

Though my body may be withered and spry

It is in spirit I do not lack.

I cannot take it—I grab the whip

He is surprised, and he does trip.

I start to yell; my tongue doth slip,

“Harraway, to the Gates with you!”

He whips again, and my back does rip.

He walks away, for he has won—

The nonchalant-like devil’s son.

Who am I? I am only one,

An oar slave on this wretched ship.

I am chained and I cannot run.

That last beating was one too much

At the empty air my paw does clutch

Let me die; for I need no crutch.

My prayer was answered, for I am free,

I’ve felt God’s almighty touch.

When at noon the sun is high,

Here my soul begins to fly.

My lips let out a gracious sigh;

Never say never,

And never say die.

--Hyzenthlay of Redwall Watership Down is my Noonvale 01:24, December 30, 2009 (UTC)

The Prisoner

The caged bird, in his dreams

Returns to his homeland

Forgetting my own self, every day and night,

I think of my father and mother in the homeland

And wonder how they are

I look upon the river

And it is like the one

I knew so well in childhood

Far from here.

Brockfang Eeeee aye eeeeee 23:45, January 18, 2010 (UTC)

Salamandastron

"There is a place that you might see,

If close enough and on a tree.

Where dwells the valient, brave and strong,

And battle creatures live along,

Together in such harmony."

"A place of wonder this must be!

A Badger Lord and Long Patrol,

To live in peace, yet meant for war.

You must show me, or I can't, shan't, won't believe!

This mountain must not be.

For an attack by sea could happen easily!

To have a mountain thus so stong, and creatures too...

You lied to me! This is not true!

Creatures of war can't live in peace.

I won't believe until the day

The Lord himself comes along this way!

I've proved you wrong, and you must see,

There's no such place standing by the sea."

Then coming forth the Badger Lord

Bending down to reach his sword,

Did stride that way and simply said,

"To not believe, you're mad, or dead!"

--Brockkers the Fearless 23:45, March 16, 2010 (UTC)

Farewell

A poem intoned at funerals at Salamandastron. The last word is shouted.

Good creature who gave your everything:

Gave all that you can give:

You who gave your very life

That others then may live,

Be sure that we'll never forget you,

And remember us on your part,

Because, my good friend of many long seasons,

You'll always live on in my heart.

We lived and fought together, the best of friends,

It grieves me to think that this is where your path ends,

But I will remember your brave heart so true

And the time will come when I will be with you,

But 'til then I'll recall your strength, brav'ry, and love,

As you died giving full vent to our war-cry: Eulalia!

--Snowpaw the Wild--I am a Warriiiiiioooooooorrrrrrrrrr! 20:31, April 23, 2010 (UTC)

The Sable Quean

A young Blademaster, was he,

Carefree forever? We shall see.

Sent forth on a thrilling quest,

To Redwall Abbey, with another guest,

Subaltern Diggs, and with lots of food,

They set off in a very light mood.

O'er the hill, the beginning,

The start to an adventure bringing,

Joy and hatred, new friends made,

Old ones reunited, they won't fade.

Young ones stolen and taken back,

The warriors, they did track,

The vermin's lair, Brockhall,

Silence they greeted; there was no call,

No sign of Vilaya and her Ravagers,

No sign of any kind of jailer.

Vilaya recovered, killing her helper,

Regained her horde from her commander,

As Zwilt lay dead on floor of Great Hall,

At the feet of Clarinna, Martin's sword in paw,

Ambry Rockflash, chased the Quean until,

The sable fell and died, not by own will.

Feasting and drinking, singing and dancing,

That day was the day, when the evil lingering,

Finally lifted, and then three warriors,

Returned to their home, never sorrier,

Their mission fulfilled, they rested,

Until their days had finally ended.

No more was there an evil threat,

To Redwall and with that, the sun set.

Now old and grey, to this day,

Those memories are not faraway,

Comrades true and enemies dead,

Nothing more is ever said.

--Laria Wavedeep ^{I am an otter of Redwall!} 10:03, April 24, 2010 (UTC)

Wilted Rose

From Brome's point of view.

A wilted flower lies on the ground –

Death and carnage all around.

Tears are soaking Rose’s gown –

Wilted flower on the ground.

A blade, forgotten, lies nearby;

There comes a sob, and then a sigh,

As the Warrior wonders why.

A blade, forgotten, lies nearby.

Alas, I could not take a life,

Despite all of this pain and strife,

For I knew what was wrong and I knew it was right.

I’m glad I could not take a life.

But why could not her life be saved?

I don’t like to stand beside this grave

And feel sorrow’s eternal wave.

Why could not her life be saved?

I know that part of life is death,

But then she breathed her final breath.

Her was life stolen: another Seth.

I know that part of life is death.

On her grave the roses grow

And you can be sure: you can know

That every springtime there I’ll go

To where on her grave the roses grow.

--Snowpaw the Wild - I am a Warriiiiiioooooooorrrrrrrrrr! 20:26, April 24, 2010 (UTC)

The Past

Memories of the past,

Forever in my mind.

From the first to the last,

See what you can find.

The love of my life,

Killed by my foe,

The pain and the strife,

How I loved her so.

I wandered far and wide,

Helping those in need,

I had a grieving side,

I was sad by the deed.

I was friends with the Lord,

Met the mountain bat,

Gained myself a sword,

I fought the raging wildcat.

I built the Abbey Redwall,

Along with all my friends,

Ranging high and tall,

It wasn't my path's end.

I found my homeland shore,

Not knowing my father's past,

I found out about their war,

Dangerous and fast.

No more will I fight,

I hung my sword in peace,

Knowing my life's plight,

Knowing wars will never cease.

--Laria Wavedeep ^{I am an otter of Redwall!} 03:25, April 25, 2010 (UTC)

Rackety Tam

Tam, Tam, Rackety Tam,

Sharpen the edge of your shield.

Tam, Tam, Rackety Tam

Martin's sword you shall wield.

Go out and fight the battle,

that which cannot be won,

and not until you do so,

will Gulo's reign be done!

PrardGrrr... 23:43, April 25, 2010 (UTC)

to Be Alive

when she left me I died

my heart did not survive

it seems that love to me had lied

Will I ever revive

This heart is broken

Will it ever heal

This heart is spoken

Of with pain to seal

Me in my destiny of death

Life was sweet

Until it took away her breath

But to be alive in her

something to be of so much worth

To make life clear not a blur

To give me a rebirth

Maybe I'll find life in death

When at Dark Gates I rest

When we met again after my final test

-- Merlot the Pirate Vixen | Named after wine and PROUD OF IT 01:00, April 26, 2010 (UTC)

Those Eyes

This is based off a dream I had when I was a seven years old; it still haunts me. It was a dream about these beady red eyes just watching me while I was walking to school (at night. :P). Those eyes were watching me as if they wanted to kill me and my dreams. So I'm going to write a poem about it, although I feel it will just raise my fear even more. But I'm going to be strong, and actually do this.

Those eyes watch,

Those eyes stare,

Those eyes are mine.

Look if you dare.

Everyone fears me,

Everyone spreads lies,

They say I'm a monster,

Only through their eyes.

I'm more than a monster,

I'm more than a myth.

I'm your worst nightmare,

The trickiest of tricks.

So follow my eyes,

Go for your dreams.

Because I'm your worst nightmare,

Killer of dreams.

~Vesper the Brisk Even a war-lady loves to talk! 17:26, May 5, 2010 (UTC)

Defeated

Enemy warlords, did they fight,

They didn't know what was wrong or right.

Evil and cunning, they saw Redwall,

By Martin's blade, did they fall.

Cluny, Marlfoxes and Ruggan Bor,

Countless vermin, and so much more.

Each one failed to conquer it,

Ending up in a dark dark pit.

If you are foe, then watch out,

You'll be challenged to a bout.

Under no whip, will we bend,

Redwall will never, never end.

--Laria Wavedeep ^{I am an otter of Redwall!} 12:55, May 5, 2010 (UTC)

Peace

This poem just suddenly sprang into my head and I just had to write it down before I forgot the lines.

I hold no sword to kill or slay,

No fearsome axe for me to wield,

Fallen loved ones, there they stay,

On a blood-strewn battlefield.

I'm not for war, I crave peace,

I'm only used to read and write,

I'm nought but a simple beast,

I have no will or strength to fight.

The warriors fight and risk their life,

Against the evil vermin lords,

They push through the pain and strife,

And battle with savage hordes.

--Laria Wavedeep ^{I am an otter of Redwall!} 12:16, May 11, 2010 (UTC)

Mole Dance

I wanted to try my hand at writing a poem in molespeech. I hope it's alright. (:

Twurl thoi partner roun' ee flor

Tap thoi paws en toime,

This is 'ow ee molers darnce

W'en ee moosic plays

If ee choose to darnce wi' oi,

Oi'll bow to ee, yung maid,

An' take thoi paw en moin.

Oi'll twurl thee araond ee flor,

An' mayhap steel a kiss,

Then let ee go a-blushen

Back to ee par'ner agin.

Twurl thoi par'ner roun' ee flor

Tap thoi paws en toime,

This is 'ow ee molers darnce

W'en ee moosic plays!

(Twirl your partner 'round the floor

Tap your paws in time

This is how the moles dance

When the music plays

If you choose to dance with me,

I'll bow to you, young maid

And take your paw in mine

I'll twirl thee around the floor,

And mayhap steal a kiss,

Then let you go a-blushing

Back to your partner again.

Twirl your partner 'round the floor

Tap your paws in time

This is how the moles dance

When the music plays)

Redfarl 00:41, September 13, 2010 (UTC)

The Warrior

I am a 
   warrior. 
    The glittering
           sword is 
               alive in my 
                   hand. Swing, lunge,
           parry. Chivalry rules all. Behind me stand 
                 the defenseless. Ahead stands the Warlord. Taunting,
                                      cajoling. I will not 
                                             back down. The 
                                                   blood of many 
                                                        has been lost 
                                                             to him. I fight.
                                                                 We both battle
                                                                     hard with skill.
                                                                         I tire. A helper
                                                                             arrives. His shield
                                                                                  is strong and 
                                                                                      his javelins are
                                                                                           sharp. The 
                                                                                              Warlord runs
                                                                                                   in fear. I have
                                                                                                          done my duty.
                                                                                                                I am a 
                                                                                                                   warrior.

Brockfang Eeeee aye eeeeee 00:31, September 30, 2010 (UTC)

Skelton's Glade

This is a free-verse about Vilaya and her family.

Skelton's Glade, Skelton's Glade. The name whispers in the wind of the darkened meadow.

Skelton's Glade, Skelton's Glade, abandon hope all ye who enter herein!

Dare ye come into this place of blood and the dead, filth and lust? Of clanhood, siblinghood and vermin sly?

Bring yer weapon iffen ye dare! Here Ephraim, the patriarch lies, surrounded by the sins of his family.

His sons and heirs, Samson and Greengate lie beside him for eternity, slain by their younger sister's paw.

For she was driven by vengenace, driven by death and answered naught but to one name:

Not Vilaya Regina Skelton, but rather Vilaya the Sable Quean.

Enter the Glade if you dare. The clan shall receive you now.....

Written by SalemtheCruel

Otter's Marching Ballad

Left! Right! Up! Down! Don't ye never whine nor frown!

Down! Up! Left! Right! Soon the end'll come in sight!"

On an' on an' on an' on! March until the journey's done!

"Ahoy there, Skip! Seem's all ye say

Is march 'n march' yore paws away.

We've passed this hornbeam three times now;

We think ye might have lost yore way!"

"Get back in line and shut yore gobs!

I ain't never lost, ye swabs.

I know's exackly where we are;

Now foller me, ye lazy mobs!"

Left! Right! Up! Down! Don't ye never whine nor frown!

Down! Up! Left! Right! Soon the end'll come in sight!"

On an' on an' on an' on! March until the journey's done!

"Hi, Skip! This sure don't look like 'ome;

'Tis full o' swampy mud an' loam.

The sun 'as long since set an' gone;

You sure you know just where t'roam?"

"Get back in line and shut yore gobs!

I ain't never lost, ye swabs.

I know's exackly where we are;

Now foller me, ye lazy mobs!"

Left! Right! Up! Down! Don't ye never whine nor frown!

Down! Up! Left! Right! Soon the end'll come in sight!"

On an' on an' on an' on! March until the journey's done!

"O Skip, the sun 'as rose agin,

An' our patience 'as wore thin!

This new land's desert, dust, and dirt;

T'is where no otter's ever been!"

"Get back in line and shut yore gobs!

I ain't never lost, ye swabs.

I know's exackly where we are;

Now foller me, ye lazy mobs!"

Left! Right! Up! Down! Don't ye never whine nor frown!

Down! Up! Left! Right! Soon the end'll come in sight!"

On an' on an' on an' on! March until the journey's done!

" All right, Skip, now what do we do?

We're back 'ome now, that much is true,

But not because we follered you;

We follered the smell o' yore wife's stew!"

"What'd I tell ye lazy mobs?

I weren't never lost, ye swabs!

We drill again at dawn's first light;

Now get t'bed an' shut yore gobs!"

Left! Right! Up! Down! Don't ye never whine nor frown!

Down! Up! Left! Right! Soon the end'll come in sight!"

On an' on an' on an' on! March until the journey's done!

From Gingiverian by ScottyBlue

Weather in the feilds

In the harsh, hot feilds where farmers dwel,

The sun beats hot onto their backs,

But the rainclouds swell,

And wind rebuilds,

To destroy this boiling day.

Thunder booms and lightning strikes,

dark clouds cover the sky,

The rain pounds hard, upon the rocks,

Be careful not to drown!

Then the storm does cease,

and clouds lay light,

The sky is blue again,

But the ground is not yellow!

Like a down-right soaked fellow,

But covered in puddles and stains!

So when the feild drys,

And the sun out again,

May the laboured farmers resume their work,

And plant the crops,

In order to survive.

May Streamdog 14:47, May 8, 2011 (UTC)

Warrior From the Eastern Shores

Martin the Warrior, legend of all,

Fought for what was good and right.

For he was the Warrior of Redwall,

And much fame came in his light.

But before fortune, trial must come,

And The Rose would wither and die.

So his heart was broken and he could not love,

Nor again did he ever try.

Just like The Rose he passed away,

And from his body was gone.

But in our hearts his memory,

Forever will live on... -FF

Ruko "F.F."Artist and Proud. 16:13, August 18, 2011 (UTC)

Ritual Chant for deceased Warriors of Salamandastron

For all those who have gone to their final Rest

Who thee by faith, they would have never guessed

Let their name be forever blest

Eulalia!

Eulalia!!

Thou with thy fort, thy stronghold through the night

thou, Lord, thy captain, they fought with all their might

and thou, in the darkness, they stood throughout the fight

and in the midst, they drew out their true light

Eulalia!

Eulalia!!

O all thy fighters, strong and full and bold

O they fought, they fought like those of old

and they won victory's title of gold

and let them, let them thyselves behold

the true glory, the glory of a hundredfold

Eulalia!

Eulalia!!

- Abbot-Bernard 05:53, January 19, 2012 (UTC)Abbot-Bernard

The Song of the Sword

A sword is such a beautiful tool,

though I say it is wielded by a fool

who chose power over sense

and then he thinks himself great, hence

he charges into battle poised for death

the axe cuts off his source of breath

fool lays on the ground dying here,

wishing he had used a spear!

User:Mewtworules

The Funeral Chant of the Whisperers

This is an eerie chant used by the Whisperer tribe of bats in my story Gingiverian to honor the fallen at a battle site, ending with the traditional Battle cry of the creatures. It's effect comes across best if one imagines the tens of thousands of tribe members gathered in standing position in a ring about the battle site, right wings upraised, torches held in the left wings, all of them swaying rhythmically side to side.

Whisperers, Whisperers,

Stand ye side by side, by side,

Raise thy wings; honor thee

These brave beasts who've died, who've died.

Hold thy torch aloft, aloft;

Raise thy right wing solemnly,

The beasts that lieth here today

Died to keep us free, us free.

In battle with our foes, our foes,

They fell defending friend and kin;

Remember well, all of ye,

This sacrifice by them, by them.

Whisperers, Whisperers!

Remember why ye still are free!

Honor thee the fallen brave!

Give thy battle cry-

SHAAAAIIIIIYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

-By --Scotty Bluefleck O Sword of Truth! Fly swift and sure, that Evil die and Good endure! 16:31, December 20, 2011 (UTC)

Vengeance

"I saw them and I know how,

the conqueror came and killed thou,

Laughing, plundering, slashing,

In my ears did your screams ring,

Now I possess a weapon of justice,

with it I repay all the malice,

that has been done to this place,

O fox, creature so base,

I will hasten your death,

as you breathe your last breath,

You will think of the creatures you've slain,

the sunshine in their lives replaced with rain..."

User:Mewtworules

Bittersweet Freedom

Laughing sadistically, taxing heavily,

Striking down all his enemies bloodthirstily,

Murdered one hero, fully? No!

He rose from the dead to slay the tyrant so low,

Emperor watched as his forces fell,

That he would die the emperor knew well,

Hero and tyrant, fighting to kill,

The tyrant's blood did spill,

But alas! At what cost?

The hero's life! It was lost!

Squirrel and ferret, both dead,

From all sides, tears were shed

for the hero, who gave his life

to free the poor kingdom from strife!

User:Mewtworules

The Veil Has Fallen

He who against fate did dare,

Whilst her tears dripped o'er the ground.

Ye who left without a care,

Now in life cannot be found.

Why didst thou do it son of evil?

What joy in death did ye seek?

The Vile life that you once lived,

You can no longer hold or keep.

Naught but memories now strew this mountain,

Those of your kind all were slain.

Even thoughts of your redemption,

Cannot take away her pain.

Ruko "F.F."Artist & Proud. 15:13, December 30, 2011 (UTC)

A Song of Redwall

Alas, In a land,

Far, far away,

The Abbey Redwall,

Awaits in grace. (A term for Hospitality)

The Abbess or Abbot

Who leads them there,

The Champion (The Defender)

Who fights despair.

Martin the Warrior,

Who watches all,

from his place upon the wall. (The 'wall' is the tapestry)

~Dazzle365~

The Lullaby

Spin among the treetops,

Dash among the glade,

Swords swing, arrows fly,

Blood splatters, beasts cry,

As I sing this lullaby.

I’ll tell you of the fox dance,

Where one makes two and three,

Where green turns to red upon twice a turn,

A wing’s length away.

Listen well at night,

To the hawk’s cry in the glade,

When wars are wars,

And beasts are beasts,

Of warriors and moonlit blades, both mighty and true.

Spin among the treetops,

Dash among the glades,

Hold thy breathe and watch the night,

As beasts of black do wing

Across a moonless sky.

Now come a little closer,

Hold your paw against my heart,

And watch in wonder

As my soul and body do part.

Bartholomew Billberry Bowstring 19:25, January 20, 2012 (UTC)

The Oarslave's Dirge

Weigh-ho,

Heigh-ho,

Away o'er th' bones we go...

To find a way,

A fine way,

To get from the land the dead 'uns go...

Skulls, knives,

Death, strife,

That's th'way they go...

Dark Forest awaits,

Th' dead at th' gates...

No livin' beast know th' waaaay...

Never t'rest,

Always 'tween life an' death,

Where are we t'go?

Row, mate, row,

T' th' beaks o' crows,

Th' Captin at th' gates...

Bartholomew Billberry Bowstring 19:25, January 20, 2012 (UTC)

Friends

The Abbot is my friend,

He took me in when I was ill.

Martin is my friend,

Many vermin he did kill.

Log-a-log is my friend,

He traveled with me far and wide,

Brother Pierre is my friend,

He is always by my side.

Of all the friends I can name,

There is one evil spirit, she brings me to shame.

Nature is not my friend,

A tree crashed on me and rendered me lame!

Click this to see who wrote it!

Your Last Mistake, Foolish Hero

"What, little mouse, would you like to fight?

It seems as if you're foolishly testing my might.

Go on, wave that sword at me, let's see you avoid this."

THWUNK!

"What's this preposterous anomaly? I can never miss!

Go on, try your luck, charge straight at me,

Come closer to me, I implore thee!

Ha, mouse, you walked straight into my trap!

Now, you're close, and your sword goes snap!

And your blood gushes like a torrent, my word,

Creatures like you were supposed to be strong, I heard!"

Click this to see who wrote it!

Diamonds of the Sky

This is a Song, not a poem, soon to be added to my story Tales of Bowlaynee Castle. It is based off the short Legend of the Star-Queen (See Here). It's a very haunting minor-key tune, usually used as a concert piece instead of its anonymous author's original intent to have it used as a lullabye. It is one of Ascotia Bluefleck's stock performance songs- she can sing it well, and play it on multiple instruments. It is also the favorite song of Grumbu the Fisher.

---

The sun goes down, and darkness falls

O’er yon mountain glen

A wee young bairn lost in the snow

Cries, and cries again.

His parents will return no more,

His home an’ hearth burned down,

Alone and lost, out in the dark,

He makes a mournful sound….

“O Stars above, look down tonight,

And hear my lonesome cry;

Shine down your light, and show the way

For lost ones such as I,

Ye diamonds of the Sky.”

The bitter road winds on and on,

Through forests dark and deep;

And danger is too great for him

To halt, or rest, or sleep.

In this big world, he seems so small;

Yet still he marches on

Deep in his heart, beneath his fears,

His hopes and dreams stay strong….

“O Stars above, look down tonight,

And hear my lonesome cry;

Shine down your light, and show the way

For lost ones such as I,

Ye diamonds of the Sky.”

Weakened but brave, he still fights through;

Then she steps into sight;

Snowy and silvery fur she has,

And eyes like diamonds bright.

“I am the Queen of all the Stars;

A star ye too shall be.

Brave one, someday ye too may shine

And help someone like thee!”

“O Stars above, look down tonight,

And hear my lonesome cry;

Shine down your light, and show the way

For lost ones such as I.

Shine Down your light, and show the way,

For lost ones such as I,

Ye Diamonds of the Sky!”

--Scotty Bluefleck O Sword of Truth! Fly swift and sure, that Evil die and Good endure! 18:09, October 6, 2012 (UTC)

Forever shall I wait

Night of blue, sky of gray,

Who else will join this perilous fray?

Perhaps the pretty, light-pawed thief,

Perhaps the mouse with mind wreaked of grief,

Perhaps the tunneler in his cave of glass,

Near the land of the crooked beast of grass,

Perhaps the young, grief-wreaked slayer of ten,

All along the winding roads they shall meet again.

Waves of green, seas of spray,

Who else shall they meet along the way?

The monster of whom sings the lark,

Or perhaps the creature who flies across the leaf and bark,

Perhaps the widow, the shadow, the peer?

Aah, I feel they are all growing near!

Perhaps the beast who slays the seer,

Perhaps the beast who writes the book,

Perhaps the beast who walks with the rook?

Where are they now, are they here?

Fearing the watchful eye of the crimson tear?

Are they far across hill and dale,

Across the forest and broken vale?

Are they near the mountain where the badger kings lye?

Shall they never appear, or are my friends the shadows drawing them here?

I can wait, bide my time, listen to the winds of centuries whistle across my chime,

For I have no care, nor no worry, where I wait in this dusty, long forgotten under city.

Enter this land, below the earth, sit among the ruins long before your ancestors’ births,

Here it is cold, here it is lone, here it is safe, in this ancient home of mine.

Cock your ear, peel your eye, for I have much knowledge learned long before your time.

But remember that all I say is unimportant, but one word. Remember it and all your hungers it shall sate:

All comes to those who wait.

-Bartholomew Billberry Bowstring (talk) 14:44, November 4, 2012 (UTC)

The Princess' Ball

(From "Tales from Bowlaynee Castle")

This is lively ditty sung by Highlanders. Dibbuns like it because of its repetitiveness and dancing rhythm. The refrain line is pronounced "Princesses" Ball.

Time tae wash off playtime's mess-

We're off tae th' Princess' Ball!

Time tae lay oot suit an' dress-

We're off tae th' Princess' Ball!

Brush yer teeth 'til they shine bright,

Comb yer fur both left an' right!

Scrub yer face an' ears an' all -

We're off tae th' Princess' Ball!"

Practice all yer P's an' Q's -

We're off tae th' Princess' Ball!

Pracice yer "How do ye do"s -

We're off tae the Princess' Ball!"

Mind yer manners - be polite -

Dinnae squabble, fuss, or fight!

Listen when yer elders call -

We're off tae the Princesses' Ball!

Learn tae jig a Highland dance -

We're off tae th' Princess' Ball!

If you're nimble, now's yer chance -

We're off tae the Princess' Ball!

Malebeasts tae the leddies bow,

Take her paw an' swirl her now,

Guide her gently - dinnae fall,

We're off tae the Princess' Ball!

Noo th' time has come at last -

We're off tae th' Princess' Ball!

Dancin' pipes noo play full blast -

We're off tae th' Princess' Ball!

Paw tae paw an' arm in arm,

Frae valley, mountain, field, an' farm,

Marchin' tae the feastin' Hall -

We're off tae th' Princess' Ball!

Paw tae paw an' arm in arm,

Frae valley mountain, feild an' farm,

Marchin' tae th' feastin' Hall -

WE'RE OFF TAE TH' PRINCESS' BALL!!!

--Scotty Bluefleck O Sword of Truth! Fly swift and sure, that Evil die and Good endure! 03:54, May 4, 2013 (UTC)

The Lament of Mossflower

This is a song from the woodlanders' point of view of when Verdauga Green-eyes concord them. It is written to an ancient Celtic tune called 'The Star of the County Down'. It is a pretty tune, could be a dancing song if speeded up, and is hauntingly beautiful when slowed down. It's hard for me to describe it to you, but you can probably find a Celtic CD that has it on it. I did.

He came in the night,

We fell in an hour,

There was no time to fight,

For to save dear Mossflower.

Our king and his queen met a bloody end,

Their knee they would not bend.

To Verdauga the destroyer!

You had better bend the knee,

To his majesty,

The king of mighty Kotir.

You had better bend the knee,

To his majesty,

The king of our Mossflower.

Woe to the one who will not bow,

No one on earth can help us now.

We look ahead for a future dawn,

That will bring warriors too these forlorn.

Two rightful kings heir and a warrior brave,

Descended from those who escaped the grave.

From Verdauga the destroyer!

You had better bend the knee,

To his majesty,

The king of mighty Kotir.

You had better bend the knee,

To his majesty,

The king of our Mossflower.

Until these come from northern water,

We will serve Verdauga and his daughter.

He is cold and cruel,

But her evil rule,

Shall be marked by famine grim.

We'll be worked to death,

But to our last breath,

Our wisdom is Corim.

You had better bend the knee,

To her majesty,

The kings cruel daughter.

But we will not,

We will plan and plot,

We shall wait for our warriors.

All this we do,

To prove tis true,

We'll destroy the destroyer!

SaynaSLuke

Watch the Rain

This is an ancient lullaby of Mossflower. It is set to a Celtic tune called 'A Letter to a Lost Love' which is lilting and pretty. If you really want to hear it, it is on a CD called 'Celtic Dreamtime'.

Watch the rain, hear it fall,

Over treetops, over all,

The woodlands of Mossflower,

Little woodlander.

Hear me sing, hear me sing,

Hear my voice in the spring,

As the rain doth fall,

Over all, over all.

Little woodlander,

Little woodlander,

Hear my voice singing,

And return to Mossflower.

Though you may wander and may roam,

Far from the glades you once called home,

I care not what you say,

You'll come home someday.

Hear me sing, hear me sing,

Hear my voice in the spring,

As the rain doth fall,

Over all, over all.

Little woodlander,

Little woodlander,

Hear my voice singing,

And return to Mossflower.

Sayna the Warrior 21:01, August 23, 2014 (UTC)

Freebeast

This is written from my characters, Sayna, point of view. It's written to 'The Star of the County Down' Yes I know that's not very original anymore, since I wrote 'The Lament of Mossflower' to it, sorry. I'm good with lyrics, but I can't write music for my life. Anyway, I thought the words were pretty good >':'<

As wind blows soft on summers eve,

As small birds come and then they leave,

As shadows dapple ground at night,

Or clouds ride on the morns first light.

(chorus)

Free as the breeze,

The clouds,

The seas,

Freer then an eagles wings,

Or a robin redbreast sings.

Over land and over sky,

Hear the loud and wondrous cry,

From the hearts of those like I,

I'm a Freebeast!

Who will falter? Who will stand?

When a foulbeast give command.

Who will run? Who will try?

Who is brave enough to die?

(chorus)

Even if your paws are bound,

With your captors all around.

A slave you'll never truly be,

If your heart and mind are free!

(chorus)

--SaynaSLuke (talk) 20:30, June 7, 2014 (UTC)