With the study of the Middle Ages one becomes aware of many diverse types of cultural phenomenon such as poetry, prose and music which makes the era come alive. In response to this study there is a long tradition of recreating such forms or performing such works. Our shire is no exception and on occasion new creations of those forms occur for our amusement and shared joy.
Battle Hymn by: -Lord Piotr Zavilov
1. We, great Oakford,
to the field bringing:
glory, honor, might
with shield, spear, and sword
for our Oakford.
2. Forest oaken rivers flowing, northern waters, fields growing our land pleasant dwelling. We valiantly defend river, forest, lake, our Oakford.
3. For the Dragon of the Midrealm go we gladly in to battle under banner flying, foe before us fleeing. Shield, spear and sword for the Midrealm.
4. We, great Oakford, serving kingdom, seek we vict'ry, reap we vict'ry, our doom our fate finding foes before us fleeing, shield, spear, and sword for great Oakford.
March By: Hersir Torvaldr Torgarson - Robert J. Koepke II
Our shire has had the great fortune of having a noted bard within our midst.
The dragon summons us to war mace and spear and ax and sword to guard the realm forever more the Army of Oakford.
We'll meet our foe and bring them death as fire from the dragon's breath in victory we'll raise our horns the Army of Oakford
And to the man we'll live or die to keep the Dragon Banner high our duty done in peace and war the Army of Oakford!
Skaldic By: Hersir Torvaldr Torgarson - Robert J. Koepke II
Skaldic verse an eight line form of poetry that originated in old Norse during
the Viking era is one of Torvald's passions. Here are two contrasting poems.
Woe the bitter winter winds batter sail steeds, that race the raging waves, and raise and toss the weary. Hope will light the harries hearts that dare the whales way, lifting them with laughter lasting to the harbour.
Sorrow sweeps my heart songs die before birthing. Words now falter wilting wasted dropping lifeless. Joy no longer lasting leaps to mind unbidden. Sadness is the sleepless shape of all tomorrows.