How the blog works

The poems on this blog are mostly written on the basis of my historical reading and are intended to be both educational and entertaining.
Recently I have also begun posting some of my work with Anglo-Saxon charms. This work is somewhat speculative and is conducted as an amateur researcher and keen Pagan historian.

Please feel free to use anything on this site as a resource if you think that it may be relevant to your needs.

Sunday 22 September 2013

Border Morris


Introduction
Border Morris is the more dynamic style of Morris dancing that was originally practiced along the English side of the Welsh boarders. Men would dance for fun and money with blackened faces, perhaps to avoid recognition. This later has tended to be replaced by the wearing of masks. The dances are performed with short sticks which are knocked either together or on the ground. The dancers wear dark jackets now mostly of tatters, the colours of which will denote their side (team). The movements of the dancers is often quite boisterous with some modern sides going for a dark style of presentation.
Here is a link to a video of me with Bacchus Border Morris, the dance is called Tipsy:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nm3I2gS1d4c

Border Morris

We dance in winter, to have some money,
There be twelve of us, when it be sunny.
In hard winters, we dance for our dinners,
In our last lives, we must have been sinners.

Once our little gang, only had one dance,
But it could differ, quite a lot by chance.
After a few pints, masks come in handy,
But all I had, was a glass of shandy.

We be rather proud, of our short hard sticks,
We bang them and knock them, and do high kicks.
Some still insist, on fertility myth,
But only our short sticks, do end up stiff.

Spare a few pennies, for our Morris dance,
Before we collapse, in a shamanic trance.
Empty thine pockets, for a little beer,
If thee fancy, to stop me feeling queer.


Copyright Andrew Rea Summer 2010

Friday 13 September 2013

‘Grimston a message from the past’

Introduction

This poem focuses on a hamlet and old peoples home just outside of York on the road to Stamford Bridge. The landscape around contains many towns and features called through their many Saxon names after significant constructs. For reasons of clarity all the Saxon words on the modern map are translated into modern English within the poem.

Grimston (ghost settlement) – a message from the past?

Were Yorkshire village, Grimston it was named,
Ghost wood to west dial, hast not yet been tamed.
Reduced so only, does hamlet remain,
The ghost farm hamlet, on elf friendly lane.

Lying south east dial, village of elf friends,
Where elf friendly lane, cunningly extends.
Witch friendly village, it lays to the west,
To south dial village, is death ditch possessed.

North dial witches wood, south dial witches wood,
But here thirteen hearth, ghost hall it once stood.
Death ditch to south dial, or is drake a beast?
But thirteen hearth hall, is long since deceased.

Grew ghost manor where, there once stood ghost hall,
Then ghost court arose, and manor did fall.
Now ghost court awaits, the angel of death,
And folk take their last, shallow ghostly breath.

Saxon messages, through time they have passed,
Death ditch or dragon, warning from the past?
Elves witches and ghosts, in landscape around,
Still angle of death, is to the land bound.

Copyright Andrew Rea March 2012

Friday 30 August 2013

Badger the brave

With the cull having just started without any science or consent of opinion (see: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-23845851) I offer this poem penned last year


Badger the brave

Warm sleepy hollow, pups about to eat,
Sacred soul to claim, Saint Francis to greet.

Slain on battlefield, now inside his grave,
Good Saint Francis came, spirit soul to save.

Family without sin, slain on battlefield,
Their fate not yet sealed, wilt ministry yield?

Souls gone to heaven, are cattle now healed?
Saint Francis he weeps, genocide on Weald. 


Copyright Andrew Rea October 2012

Saturday 24 August 2013

A Saxon charm for a difficult journey


I have found the following text in Leech Book I, LXXXVI, 

For mickle travelling over land, lest he tire, let him
take mugwort a to him in hand, or put it into his shoe,
lest he should weary, and when he will pluck it, before
the upgoing of the sun, let him say first these
words, "I will take thee, artemisia, lest I be weary on the way," etc.

I have replaced 'etc.' with the following text from HERBARIVM, CLXXIX (Periwinkle);

"that thou cometh to me glad, blossoming with thy usefulness; that thou outfit
me so that I be shielded, and ever well, and undamaged by poisons and by wrath

Back to Leech Book I, LXXXVI,;

Sign it with the sign of the cross,

when thou pullest it up.

Both of these manuscripts are from the late Saxon period.

Saturday 17 August 2013

Here be Giants

Introduction
Many features on the landscape were named after giants by the Anglo-Saxons. Those remaining include: 1 Valley, I cave, 1 hole, 1 ford, 2 ravines and 2 lakes.

However some were recorded in antiquity but their locations have become lost. These include: 1 mound, 1 thicket, 1hill, 1 glade, 2 pits, 3 pools.

Many other places named after giants have also been recorded in the centuries following the Saxon era.

The Saxons had three names for giant: Troll, Thyrs and Ent.


Trollers Gill in Yorkshire, is associated with a monstrous black spectral dog named Barguest, who is thought to have inspired Arthur Conan Doyle in writing ‘The Hound of the Baskervilles’.

Here be Giants
Once many giants, lay down in our land,
And ten or so did, against time withstand.
The valley cave hole, and ford doth endure,
Two ravines two Lakes, art also secure.

But mounds the thicket, the hill, and the glade,
All three giant pools, their memories fade.
Seven giant pits, long time hast betrayed,
Those secrete places, art all now mislaid.

Legends of giants, the Troll Thyrs and Ent,
What was their purpose, what was their intent.
Oddly disturbing, those monstrous wights,
Silent sentinels, secured sacred sites?

Thursford in Norfolk, had Great Snoring lord,
In Doomsday village, he wielded his sword.
Largest Yuletide show, in all of our land,
This small village has, a huge helping hand.

Oxfordshire Tusmore, hamlet of Doomsday,
Destroyed by Black Death, was doomed to decay.
Merely giant’s Lake, through time did remain,
A massive wyrm bed, rebuilt it again.
                                                                          
Yorkshire Trollers Gill, the troll’s arse ravine,
Beastly hound Barguest, black sinister scene.
Chilling excursion, beware falling stone,
Hell hole shiver quiver, spine tingle alone.

Copyright Andrew Rea June 2012

Saturday 10 August 2013

Saxon spell of protection

Introduction
This poem is written in the style of an Anglo-Saxon spell of protection employing the use of listing the possible threats and also the used of the cardinal directions.

Glossary:
Drychten is the Old English for lord.
Aelfadle is any sickness caused by elves, compare addled.
Haegtesse are wild, armed supernatural women riding out in a group and causing    harm havoc and mayhem! Haegtesse was used as a scan for wælcyrige.
Aelfsiden is the magic of elves.
Svartalheim is the world where the dark elves dwell.
Nihtgenga refers to night walkers; demons of the night.
Incubus/succubus is synonymous with mere/mera and often used as a scan for the same. Mare/mara gave rise to the term ‘nightmare’.
Cockatrice and wyrm are types of dragon.
Smithas are mythical beings that forge arrows (elf shot) for the elves to fire.
Nidavellir is the world where the dwarfs dwell.

Saxon spell of protection

Guard us lord Wodan, oh magical lord,
Leader of Wild Hunt, loaf drychten ward.
Elf shot aelfadle, against thine bombard,
Against hægtessan, this be thine guard.

This guard against aelfsiden, magic of elves,
Svartalheim’s dark elves, this against themselves.
Night walker succubus, dark elfin mare,
Nihtgenga incubus, be gone to thine lair.

Cockatrice and wyrm, iron darts of smithas,
Sleep in thine wyrm bed, stay in thine quivers.
Nidavellir dwarfs, advance if thee dare,
This guard against, fiery drakes of air.

Under linden shield, protect from the east,
Malice from the south, thee shalt never feast.
Sword against malignancy, from the west,
With spear guarding north, thee art now suppressed.

Copyright Andrew Rea Aug 2013

Sunday 4 August 2013

Dragon's Quarters


A bit of summer fun with dragons:

Flying cockatrice guard the east,
Air dragon we doth bid thee hail.
Guard our circle with thine power,
Be with us here in our wassail.

Firedrake guard the gate to the south,
Oh great beast fortify the door.
Shield us here with thine fiery breath,
Bide with us, we doth thee implore.

Sea serpent guard the western gate,
We doth water dragon call thee.
From thine watery depths arise,
We bid thee our rite oversee.

Crouching basilisk guard the north,
Earth dragon without wings arise.
Serpent king we doth bid thee forth,
From long mists of time now arise.

Copyright Andrew Rea Eostre 2013