Tom Dicken's Journals
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Darlig Ulv Stranden.
General
| 1500 years ago, Dunwich was the capital of East Anglia and was one of the largest ports in the east of England. At Domes... |
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So Spricht Das Leben.
(A Traditional Germanic Song):~
So sayeth LIFE, the world is mine,
Flowers bloom and birds sing for me,
For I am the day and the sunlight,
So sayeth life, the world is mine,
So sayeth death, the world is mine,
Your daylight is but a vain display,
As stars and moon sink in eternal night,
So sayeth death, the world is mine,
So sayeth life, the world is mine,
You make great tombs of marblestone,
But you can not entomb love,
So sayeth love, the world is mine,
So sayeth death, the world is mine,
I have prepared a graveyard,
And have created pestilence and war,
So sayeth death, the world is mine,
So sayeth life, the world is mine,
Every grave is but a plot of land,
Into which my eternal seeds fall,
So sayeth life, the world is mine,
So sayeth love, the world is mine.
Dunwich, Suffolk, UK.
Once a major seaport of East Anglia, Dunwich was inundated by the sea in 1328, the present village and a few ruins are all that remain after 700 years of coastal erosion. But local people claim that at times the submerged church bells still ring, warning the town of an approaching storm. Ashore, the shadowy figures sometimes seen on the cliff tops are thought to be the ghosts of people from that fatal night of 1328.
The barbaric warrior world of the Old English poem Beowulf gave way to a time of cultural, religious and political firsts. While the rest of Europe was tied to Latin, England began to conduct much of its affairs in its own language.
Thank you, to my wife Carolyn who understands my passion for ancient history and my obscure musical taste and thanks also to my work colleague Grimr Warbear for his fantastic artwork. I must add, Olaf, our larger than life Great Dane and Oona, our dear Irish Setter. Best wishes to you All, Tom, the Germanic Bothie-Builder.
Images by Grimr Warbear. Author of poem :~ anonymous.
The events of the ballad below may point to the actual historic events of 1290 and relate to the bringing home of Queen Margaret, The Maid of Norway and her seven year old daughter who both perished in the North Sea crossing. Sir Patrick Spens is a poetic invention with no historical record, however there was a Sir Patrick Vans who did exist about this time. The lyrics were recorded by Francis James Child who scoured the British Isles for such poignant ballads.
'Sir Patrick Spens'
The king sits in Dunfermline Town,
Drinking of the blood red wine,
"Where can I get a good sea captain
to sail this mighty ship of mine?"
Then up there spoke a bonny boy
sitting at the kings right knee,
"Sir Patrick Spens is the very best seaman that ever sailed upon the sea,
The king has written a broad letter
and sealed it up with his own right hand, sending word unto Sir Patrick to come to him at his command.
'An enemy then this must be,
Who told a lie concerning me,
For I was never a very good seaman,
Nor ever do I intend to be".
"Last night I saw the new moon,
With the old moon in her arm,
a sign, the sign since we were born,
that means there'll be a deadly storm".
They had not sailed upon the sea,
A day, the day, but barely three,
When loud and boisterous grew the wind,
And loud and stormy grew the sea.
Then up there came a mermaiden,
A comb and glass all in her hand,
"Here's a health to you my merry young men, For you'll not see dry land again".
"Oh, long may my Lady look,
With a lantern in her hand,
Before she sees my bonny ship,
Come sailing homewards to dry land,
For forty miles off Aberdeen,
Where the water's fifty fathoms deep,
There lies good Sir Patrick Spens,
With the Scots Lords at his feet".
Press~Ganged:~ The Press was a no-nonsense Act of the British Parliment compelling men to serve in the Royal Navy, many were taken from their homes by the brutal press-gangers, this is another poignant ballad rescued from obscurity by Francis James Child, it is a woman's song that has been sung to perfection by Maddy Prior (Steeleye Span) Sandy Denny (Fairport Convention) June Tabor and Eliza Carthy.
All Things Are Quite Silent:~
All things are quite silent, each mortal at rest, When my true love and I got snug in our nest, When a bold set of uniformed ruffians that entered our cave, And the forced my dear husband to plough the salt wave.
I begged hard for my sailor as though I begged for life, They did not listen to me although a fond wife, Saying 'The King he wants sailors, to the sea he must go', And they have left me lamenting in sorrow and woe.
Through green fields and meadows we did walk, With the birds in the woodland so sweetly did sing, And the lovely thrushes' voice made the valleys ring.
Although my love is gone, I will not be cast down, Who knows, my sailor may once more return, And will make me amends for all trouble and strife, And my true love and I might live a happy life.
All things are quite silent each mortal at rest, When my true love and I got snug in our nest, When a bold set of uniformed ruffians that entered our cave, And they forced my dear jewel to plough the salt wave.
Cosmology by James Fenton.
We know where the cauldrons were buried. And the axes, the flesh hooks and the spits.We know the site of the obsidian mines and the source of the chocolate flint. But who put these questions first we will never know. Who noticed the Sun rise in the winter between the Wolf's Teeth. And thought to mark the summer trajectory? Who first measured the shadow? Who sank the great pits for the calender stones? Who kept in mind the ancient calculation. And served his tribe for a memory?
Aud Lang Syne by Robert Burns:~
For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll take a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne!
Should auld acquaintance be forgot. And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot. And auld lang syne?
And surely ye'll be your pint~stowp, And surely I'll be mine, And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne!
We twa hae run about the braes, And pou'd the gowans fine, But we've wandered monie a weary fit, Sin auld lang syne.
We twa hae paidled in the burn, Frae morning sun till dine, But the seas between us braid hae roared, Sin auld lang syne.
And there's a hand my trusty fiere, And gie's a hand o thine, And we'll take a right guid~willie waught, For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll take a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne.
The Frozen Man:~
Last thing I remember is the freezing cold, water reaching up just to swallow me whole, ice in the rigging and the howling wind, the shock to my body as we tumbled in, then my brothers and the others are lost at sea, I alone am returned to tell thee, hidden in ice for one century, lord have mercy on the frozen man.
Next words that were spoken to me, the nurse asked me what my name might be, she was all in white at the foot of my bed, I said angel of mercy am I alive or dead, my name is William James McPhee, I was born in 1843, raised in Liverpool by the sea, but that ain't who I am, lord have mercy on a frozen man.
It took a lot of money to start my heart, to peg my leg and to buy my eye, the newspapers call me the state of art, and children when they saw me cry, I thought it would be nice just to visit my grave, see what kind of tombstone I might have, sadly I saw my wife and my daughter and it seemed so strange, both of them dead and gone from extreme old age, see here, when I die make sure I'm gone, don't leave 'em nothing to work on, you can raise your arm, you can wiggle your hand, not unlike myself, and you can wave goodbye to the frozen man.
I know what it means to freeze to death, to lose a little life with every breath, to say goodbye to life on earth, and then come around again, lord have mercy on a frozen man.
Summerisle:~
In the woods there grew a tree, a fine tree was he, and on that tree was a limb, and on that limb there was a branch, on that branch there was a nest and in that nest there was an egg, in that egg there was a bird, and from that bird a feather came, and of that feather a bed was made. In Summerisle, Summerisle.
Let The Ship Go Down:~
Sometime in October, we sail from England's shore, when we sailed into a raging storm, like I never ever seen before, all of the crew they were brave men, but the captain he was the bravest, he said,'Never mind the ship me lads, there's none of us here that can save her, so let her go down me lads, let her go down, swim for your lives my bonny lads, swim for your children my brave boys, swim for your wives my bonny lads, but let her go down, just let the ship go down'.
Lost in the open sea, there were some of the crew and me, while the captain steered our wounded ship, to the bottom of the angry sea, and with his dying breath we all heard him say, 'Just the fortunes of a sailor'. And he said. 'Never mind the ship me boys, there's none of us here can save her. Let the ship go down my bonny lads, let the ship go down'.
Who Knows Where The Time Goes?
Across the evening sky,
All the birds are leaving,
But how can they know,
It's time for them to go?
Before the winter fire,
I will still be dreaming,
I have no thought of time,
For who knows where the time goes?
Who know where the time goes?
Sad, deserted shore,
Your fickle friends are leaving,
Ah! But then you know,
It's time for them to go,
But I will still be here,
I have no thought of leaving,
I do not count the time,
For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?
And I am not alone,
While my love is near me,
I know it will be so,
Until it's time to go,
So come the winter storms,
And the birds in spring again,
I have no fear of time,
For who knows how my love grows?
And who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes!
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All Posts (369) Messages posted by Tom Dicken
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Tom Dicken's 26 Properties
Tom Dicken's 12 Groups
A Confederacy of Dunces
Position: The Smart Alecks
Level 3
It can be said that each one of us here at AncientWorlds insist on being known as a bunch of self-proclaimed, smart alecks when it comes to Ancient History; however when it comes to Popular Culture, sometimes it pays to be a Dunce!
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Airmid's Well
Position: Acolyte
Level 2
Herbalism and Healing in the Ancient Worlds and Today
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Alba
Position: Saoithe
Level 2
A general reference for study and discussion of Scotland's history, from the earliest times to today.
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Bardic College
Position: MacFuirmid
Level 2
For study, practice and preservation of the traditional bardic arts of poetry, storytelling, legend and literature.
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Ciclipéid Éire na gCeilteach
Position: Feisire
Level 2
The Encyclopædia of Celtic Ireland.
A general reference for study and discussion of all aspects of Ireland's culture and history, from the earliest times up to today.
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Creideamh
Position: Dámh
Level 2
Celtic Faith, from the Druids to the Saints.
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The Faery Ring
Position: Changeling
Level 2
The second star to the right and straight on till morning, somewhere over the rainbow, through the looking glass...
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The Glen of Dana
Position: Worshiper
Level 3
A spiritual center for followers of the Great Mother
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The Writers' Bothy
Position: Writer
Level 4
A place for writers to gather, especially writers of historical fiction, historical fact, or historical roleplay.
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Renaissance and Raptures
Position: Lords and Ladies
Level 5
A celebration of the Tudor era and it's five unique personalites...Henry VII, Henry VIII, Edward VI, Mary I and Elizabeth I. Included in our group is the half century before the Tudor era which is commonly known as the Wars of the Roses.
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Complete List of Tom Dicken's 12 Groups
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