SESSION RECAPS

[To the tune of Paddy's Lamentation] Harken on the wind, my kin, and hold your breathing in, Lend an ear to our kindred’s lamentation, For service we were born, to hear the Herald’s horn And meet our oaths with childish celebration. We took up the tools of harm, so to go forth armed, Our mail and helms, all girded for a fight, Young loves, friends and clan, all we crossed that span, But each and every one we lost from sight. Listen ye, my kin, these words I do speak, A stranger’s land we’ll walk forever more, By our kings vict’ry was made, ‘gainst cruel soldati blades, Never to know the home we had before. Each of us passed o’er, destined for this place of war, All memory of home we did sever, Unto this world we came, and the foe we put to shame, But half of us are dead and gone forever. And when the war was won, our suff’ring was not done, Shroud your face so that none can see, By the Wind with spear in hand, I curse the Gebbite land, Afflicted with the scourge Lucidity. Listen ye, my kin, these words I do speak, A stranger’s land we’ll walk forever more, By our kings vict’ry was made, ‘gainst cruel soldati blades, Never to know the home we had before.