Oh, Darkwood is my homeland,
where the oak grows straight and tall,
and the wind sings through the branches
as the acorns gently fall.
Well I was one such seedling,
though afar I did roam,
and my hearts roots ever shelter
‘neath the soil of my home.
Sebastian was our founder
who made us all kin;
he took our different cantons,
and he formed us from within.
And though now he is buried
‘neath the roots of our oak tree,
we grow still from his memory
to make strong our barony.
Our Baron, our own helmsmith,
Builds for us with strength and steel
And Liesl, calm and gracious,
Gives a welcome all can feel.
Now the hawk has found a haven,
over green hills makes its flight,
and the falcon keeps a vigil
with double-headed sight.
Caer Darth by deep waters
shares its artisans and cooks,
while fencers hone their sharp wit
and herbalists search ancient books.
Then look up to the city
which stands forth upon a hill,
where seek the students of St. Davids
the quest of knowledge to fulfill.
In the vineyards of the southlands
Konigstaadt our people keep,
where many a war has been fought
for the honor of the sheep.
Shadowed mountains of the king
hold a strong land by the sea,
where the hearthfire burns a bright flame,
Sea Dragons mighty.
We shall mix joy with our drinking,
watch the feasting candles burn,
and we’ll dance in the face of darkness,
tales old and new to learn.
We welcome the newcomer,
while we mourn the ones we’ve lost;
if my landlove is my danger,
then I’ll gladly pay the cost.
– Branwen Cryccthegn Deorcwuda,
Baroness’ Masked Ball
December 16, AS XXXV (2000)
adapted AS XL (2005)