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Report from Camp Jollymount
Out of the broken lands shadowed by Dragon's Peak Mountain, I have travelled here
to rid the Isles from all deceitful evil, to purge the lands, above and below, of
all creatures with a will bent for the carnal destruction of peace and well being
among the creatures of the Isles. I view the Isles of Arrogoth as under my
protection, each isle to be treasured and nurished by it's inhabitants. However, I
know there are those that do not wish this, that there are those that would ally
themselves with foul demons whose only motivation is to bend the will of other
beings to be
twisted like themselves, to live in a deformed, tortured world of the darkest
blackness. I swear to put forth all of my efforts to prevent this from happening,
no matter who may try to stand in my way
of succeeding. Let it be known that I have freed many people of far lands, and I
will do so again on the Isles
of Arrogoth. May you join my armies as we righteously stomp down the breeders of
hatred, or be trampled beneath us. Either way, the peoples of the Isles wish one
thing that I have delivered to others: A utopia, a free society for all, a place for
all to dwell happily for all generations to come. The choice could not be more
clear. Join and accompany us in true happiness. Fight us and you and your kin will
be condemned to an eternity of misery and pain in the after life.
Choose wisely.
- A little drinking song to share with everyone - YA GOT TROUBLE (RIGHT HERE IN JOLLYMOUNT)-Lloyd ap Taliesin y Felinfoel Copyright (C) 1991, James Woodyatt Savagely filked [without remorse] from the Music Man (Insert the name of any four syllable barony with an attitude problem) Well, either you are closing your eyes to a situation you do not wish to acknowledge, Or you are not aware of the caliber of disaster... indicated by the presence of a beer tavern in your community. Well, ya got trouble my friends, I say trouble right here in Jollymount. Why sure I'm a storyteller, I'm always mighty proud, I say I'm mighty proud to say it. I consider that the hours I've spent in front of a crowd are golden... Helped me cultivate horse sense, and a cool head and a keen eye. Ya ever try to give an iron clad leave to yourself from a royal command performance? But just as I say it takes judgement, brains and maturity to get a harp argent for singing sixteenth century sea shanties, I say that any boob... Can get drunk and murder the lyrics! to a Broadway showtune... And I call that sloth. And the first big step on the road to the depths of degrada[tion]... I say first... medicinal wine from a teaspoon, then beer from a keg. And the next thing you know your son's singing filks and wearing a cavalier hat, And listening to some egotistical Norman, here to tell all about country dancing, Not a wholesome courtly dance, No!, but a dance where you actually touch your partner's hands. Ya like to see some big, ugly Welshman drooling on Your daughter's arm, make your blood boil, well I should say... Now friends, let me tell you what I mean... Ya got one, two, five, ten, fifteen, twenty ounces in a pint. Ounces that mark the difference between a nobleman and a tinker, With a capital 'T', and that rhymes with 'B', and that stands for Beer. And all week long your Calafian youth'll be piddling away, I say your young men'll be piddling.... Piddling away their noon-time, supper-time, chore-time too, Just get the beer in the tan! kard Never mind getting the dandelions pulled, the tent flap patched ter 'til you parents are caught with the dishes all dirty on a Saturday night And that's trouble. Oh, yes we've got lots and lots trouble I'm thinking of smalls in their little clothes, shirt tail young ones, peeking in the tavern window after sundown Trouble! Folks! Right here in Calafia! Gotta find a way to keep the young ones moral after all. Now, I know all you folk are the right kind of parents, So I'll be perfectly frank with you. Would you like to know what sort of conversation goes on when they're loafin' around that tavern? They'll be puttin' down Guinness; they'll be puttin' down Blackbush; Drinking that Connemara Dew like alcohol fiends! And braggin' all about how they're gonna cover up a telltale breath with a bit of raw clove, One fine night, they leave the tavern, headed for the dance in Bedlam, Libertine men and scarlet women and belly dancing with shameless music That will grab your son, your daughter, in the arms of a jungle animal instinct. Mass hysteria! Friends, the idle brain is the devils playground, Trouble! (Oh! We got trouble!) Right here in Calafia! (Right here in Calafia!) Trouble with a capital 'T', and that rhymes with 'B', and that stands for Beer. (That stands for beer!) Oh yes, we've got trouble. (Our children have got trouble!) Right here in Calafia! (Right here!) Remember the code of chivalry and the golden rule. Mothers of Jollymount. Heed this warning before it's too late. Watch for the telltale signs of corruption. When your son leaves the pavilion, does he roll his sleeves up above the elbow? Is there a disgusting sludge in the bottom of his tankard that looks like it came from an Exxon spill? Is there a book of Irish folk songs hidden under his pillow? Is he starting to memorize jokes, and one-liners that the peerage would never approve of? Are certain ideas creeping into his mind? Ideas like, "Who cares if I never get an award.... ever." And, "The king's an idiot!" Aha! And, "Big deal if I get banished!" Well, if so my friends, You got trouble! (Oh! We got trouble!) Right h drink with water and the barley and the hops is the devils tool. (The devil's tool.) Yes, we've got trouble, trouble, trouble. (Our children have got big, big trouble.) With a capital 'T', (With a capital 'T') And that rhymes with 'B', (And that rhymes with 'B') And that stands for Beer. (That stands for beer!)
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