King Arthur
The True Tale
By David Barrett
Piano Score
© Copyright Yellowbrick Publications 2008
Song 1 The Sleepy Town of Camelot
n.b. the CD begins with a four bar intro.
v4
v2
( )
On
a
Mon - day
morn - ing
as
the
sun
beg - ins
to
rise,
v2,3 .
v4
sleep-y vill- ag-ers e-merge to
yawn and rub their eyes. They
.
eat a heart-y break-fast and
v5
wash be-hind their ears, But
let us sing with one acc-ord
then beg-ins the twidd'-ling thumbs and sipp-ing of the beers. So
un - til the air re-sounds,
There's noth-ing else to do round here where
te - di- um a - bounds. Each
it's
our
litt - le
hour is like a life-time in the
sleep - y
town
of
place that time for-got;
Cam
-
e
On a Monday morning as the sun begins to rise,
Sleepy villagers emerge to yawn and rub their eyes.
They eat a hearty breakfast and wash behind their ears,
But then begin the twiddling thumbs and sipping of the beers.
Chorus
So - let us sing with one accord until the air resounds,
There’s nothing else to do round here when tedium abounds.
Each hour is like a lifetime in the place that time forgot;
It’s our sleepy little town of Camelot.
On a Tuesday morning as the sun begins to rise,
The scene is once again played out before your very eyes.
The breakfast is the same today, the same parts get a scrub,
And then begin the twiddling thumbs and stretching in the mud.
On a Wednesday morning as the air with birdsong throngs?
What happens next is obvious if you’ve listened to our song;
Will there be a tournament or joust to pass the day?
No, just a dose of twiddling thumbs and lounging in the hay.
Could a Thursday morning be just like all the rest?
Out come all the locals to breakfast half undressed.
But then the pattern breaks at last as rumours start to grow,
The eyes of all the village watch to see what happens now.
On a Friday morning in the pale pink glow of dawn,
Our two heroic friends step out to breakfast on the lawn
Nothing different happens now, the scene plays out before us?
This song’s gone on for far too long so here’s the final chorus.
-
lot.
Song 2 The Rightful King of the Britons
When
When
they
they
ask
ask
you,
you,
'Who should be your king?'
'Whom do you all fear?'
Whose the fierc-est fight-er in the
Who holds the fate of the
peop-le in
whole
How do you re-ply?
of this land?
his hand? Mor
How do you re-ply?
-
Mor -
dred,
dred.
Mor -
dred.
Mor -
dred.
Mor -
dred.
The
name
man
that strikes pure terr - or
hum - i - li - ates
his
Mor - dred,
Mor - dred.
in - to
foes with
sim - ple
tor - ture
The man whom ev - en brave knights lack the
The name that brings damn - a - tion to the
1.
Mor -
dred,
peas - ants hearts?
pain
and death:
Mor -
cour-age to att- ack?
pur- est liv-ing soul?
2.
dred.
This
Mor -
dred.
I
will be king!
I
I hold the power!
Kneel
at myfeet,
fight
at
my
rule this land!
I
have the will!
kneel
side,
It's
And
mine,
it's mine by
I will
at myfeet.
win the
Give me, give
fight
at
my
right.
fight.
me, give to me yoursword.
side.
I
will,
I
will
make
you
a
When they ask you, ‘Who should be your king?’, How do you reply? Mordred.
When they ask you, ‘Whom do you all fear?’ How do you reply?’, Mordred.
Who’s the fiercest fighter in the whole of this land? Mordred, Mordred
Who holds the fate of the people in his hand? Mordred.
The name that strikes pure terror into simple peasants hearts? Mordred, Mordred.
The man whom even brave knights lack the courage to attack? Mordred, Mordred.
This man humiliates his foes with torture, pain and death? Mordred, Mordred.
This man will bring damnation to the purest living soul. Mordred, Mordred.
I will be king, I rule this land, it’s mine by right,
I hold the power, I have the will and I will win the fight.
Kneel at my feet, kneel at my feet, give me, give me, give to me your sword,
Fight at my side, fight at my side, I will, I will make you a Lord.
lord!
Song 3 Arthur is Really in the Mire
n.b. on the CD there is a 4 bar intro
To
-
day's
a - noth - er
Mon - day
least we've had some act-ion though the
but
there's
some - thing
out - come seems un-fair.
the
air,
At
Viol -ence rears its ug - ly head and
rum - ours fly ar - ound, Will
Ar - thur end up on the throne or
let us oil our vo - cal chords
and
sing of matt - ers dire,
in
It
six feet un - der - ground. So
seems our he - ro Ar
thur is
reall - y
in the mire; And
In
our
not
now that time's re - mem - bered us things
so
sleep
-
y
town
of
sure are gett - ing hot,
Cam
Today’s another Monday but there’s something in the air,
At least we’ve had some action, though the outcome seems unfair;
Violence rears its ugly head and rumours fly around,
Will Arthur end up on the throne or six feet underground?
Chorus
So, let us oil our vocal cords and sing of matters dire,
It seems our hero, Arthur, is really in the mire;
And now that time’s remembered us things sure are getting hot
In our not so sleepy town of Camelot!
The odds are stacked on Mordred’s side and Arthur’s chances slim,
As Mordred struts around the stage and sneers an evil grin;
He shows his fists of granite and the muscles of an ox,
No wonder that the carpenter is making Arthur’s box.
-
e
-
lot.
Song 4 How Grand to be a Roman
How
grand
days
grand
to be a
spent at the
to be a
Roman
our
lives
op' ra
our
nights
Rom-an
it's
plain
are full of
glee,
in re-vel' - ry.
for all to
see,
Our
How
In
our marb-le
vill-as
we
live
in lux-ur -
y.
We
v2
clad our-selves
in
met-al plate
with
leath-er straps
and
studs,
Our
v2
knobb-ly knees
and
hair- y legs
just
drive the lad - ies
nuts.
The
yok-els have
no
Rom - ans have the
fash-ion sense
with
mod - ern look with
flopp-y hats
styl - ish pleat - ed
and
shirts,
skirts.
Chorus:
How grand to be a Roman, our lives are full of glee,
Our days spent at the opera, our nights in revelry,
How grand to be a Roman, it’s plain for all to see,
In our marble villas, we live in luxury.
We clad ourselves in metal plate with leather straps and studs,
Our knobbly knees and hairy legs just drive the ladies nuts;
The yokels have no fashion sense with floppy hats and shirts,
We Romans have the modern look with stylish pleated skirts.
The hardships of the winter are borne without a groan,
About the British weather, you’ll never hear us moan;
For we have some commodities that make the Britons sore,
The hot tub in the bathroom and the heating underfloor!
The noble Roman legacy is surely here to stay,
You’re using our technology when on the motorway;
And when you turn a tap on, take a bath or flush your loo,
Remember us with gratitude for that’s our gift to you.
we
Song 5 Where There's a Will!
Now, Dav- id he was chos-en for the Jew- ish
had to fight Go - li- ath, who was
came to see him die,
But
daid- le deed-le daid-le deed-le
ten feet tall, His
cause, He
e - ne-mies just scoffed at him and
Dav - id fired a sling- shot in the
daid-le dood-le dig-guh dee,
gi-ants left
eye.
Daid-le deed-le daid-le deed-le
dig-guh dig-guh dum dum,
Heid - um
beid - um
Daid- le deed-le daid-le deed-le
daid - le
deed - le
daid-le dood-le dig-guh dee,
beed - le
bid - le
Now, David he was chosen for the Jewish cause,
He had to fight Goliath, who was ten feet tall.
His enemies just scoffed at him and came to see him die,
But David fired a slingshot in the giant’s left eye.
Daidle deedle daidle deedle daidle doodle digguh dee,
Daidle deedle daidle deedle digguh digguh dum, dum
Daidle deedle daidle deedle daidle doodle digguh dee,
Hiedum biedum daidle deedle beedle bidle bum
Now, Moses led the Jews into the promised land,
He brought them out of Egypt to the Red Sea shore;
But though in haste the ferry reservation was forgot,
The hand of God obliged them with a dry short cut!
Now, once God said to Noah, ‘There will be a flood’,
So, he gave up his day job and he bought some tools,
His neighbours laughed and mocked him for his D.I.Y.
But when the rain came Noah said, ‘mud in your eye!’
Now, Joshua had his work cut out at Jericho,
The wall was nearly ten feet thick and twice as tall;
And so he played his trumpet while he made a plan,
The music brought the wall down when his army sang:
The moral of these stories is quite clear to see,
That those who suffered hardship throughout history,
Would never give up trying though they had a bumpy ride,
The good Lord always smiled on them and took their side.
bum!
Song 6 Pluck Those Feathers 'Til the Sun Goes Down
In the
name of the king
goose up-on the tab-le, You can
Sav ing it for Yule?
name of the king
we need your down. As
pluck those feath-ers 'til the
Then break your rule,
we want your feath-ers, In the
soon as you are ab - le get that
sun
goes
down.
Serve it up on Sun-day with some
.
v2
cran - b'rry sauce.
long
as
it's
We're not
got
pick - y we'll have
feath - ers
and
a
tur - key goose or chick - y!
beak
In the name of the King – we want your feathers,
In the name of the King – we need your down,
As soon as you are able – get that goose upon the table,
You can pluck those feathers till the sun goes down.
Saving it for Yule? Then break your rule,
Serve it up on Sunday with some cranberry sauce.
We’re not picky, we’ll have turkey, goose or chicky,
As long as it’s got feathers and a beak it’s cool!
In the name of the King etc….
If you have no goose that’s no excuse,
Feathers from your pillow and your bed will do.
What’s that swimming on your garden pond?
Not another word, just go and fetch that bird,
In the name of the King etc….
it's
cool!
( )
as
Song 7 How Can I Explain the Unexplainable?
How can I ex-plain the un-ex - plain-a - ble?
I don't want to hurt all those who trust in me,
How can I be-tray all those with faith in me?
Tell the truth that nev-er should be told?
Who be-lieve in me, al-though my life's a lie.
Utt-er words they'll nev-er want to
hear?
I will be de-rid-ed and re - ject
ed,
Though the blame lies quite out-side my sphere.
How can I explain the unexplainable?
Tell the truth that never should be told?
I don’t want to hurt all those who trust in me,
Who believe in me, although my life’s a lie!
How can I betray all those with faith in me?
Utter words they’ll never want to hear!
I will be derided and rejected,
Though the blame lies quite outside my sphere.
I shall rid the land of all that’s evil,
Mordred and his kind shall not prevail;
Then I’ll choose the time to let the secret out,
Fate shall act according to my will!
Courage will explain the unexplainable,
Bravery will tell what’s not yet told.
Love will heal the wounds of hurt and misery,
Just as sunshine melts the winter’s snow.
Song 8 Poor Arthur, He is Such a Wimp!
Poor
such
a
when it blows a
wimp,
a
hu - man rake, he's
how- ling gale, he
just
a
dis - app-ears with - out
Ar-thur, he is
shrimp;
a
And
trail. Poor
Ar - thur, he
is
such
a weed, a
help - less
litt -
le
Poor Arthur, he is such a whimp, a human rake, he’s just a shrimp,
And when it blows a howling gale, he disappears without a trail,
Poor Arthur he is such a weed, a helpless little boy,
He’s clearly not a warrior born, he struggles with the uniform,
His breast-plate rubs against his knees, he thinks a rapier’s in the east,
Poor Arthur is a mystery, an enigmatic boy.
And yet the people care for him, look out for him, look up to him,
They’re willing to stand up for him, to shelter him and fight for him,
Poor Arthur’s such a midget and a curious little boy.
And need the king be brave and tough? Diplomacy is strength enough!
For Arthur’s blessed with quite a brain, his mind is on a higher plane,
Perhaps he’ll make a powerful king, that puny little boy?
boy!
Song 9 Dark Angel
Dark an-gel,
Bind these to -
Dark an-gel,
Dark an-gel of
kens with thy pow-ers, de - liv - er us
Cam-e- lan pro - tect
from the
us.
powers of dark-ness.
Last time FINE
Dru-ids' bless-ings,
dru-ids' bless-ings,
dru-ids' bless-ings be up - on this sword.
Life pre-serv- er,
limb
lopp-er,
Foot chopp-er,
flesh
slic-er,
wid - ow mak - er,
bone break-er
wand of
batt - le
Verse 1:
Life-preserver; limb-lopper,
Widow-maker; wand of hate,
Foot-chopper; flesh-slicer,
Bone-breaker; battle-mate.
Chorus:
Dark angel, dark angel, dark angel of Camelan protect us,
Bind these tokens with thy powers,
Deliver us from the powers of darkness,
Druids’ blessings, druid’s blessings,
Druids blessings be upon this sword/helmet/warrior.
Verse 2:
Skull-protector; sword-stopper,
Battle-burnished; forged in fire,
Cranium-cradle; Wit-preserver,
Scalp-saver; block his aim.
Verse 3:
Doom deliv’rer; dark angel:
Devil’s disciple; fate-dealer;
Man-destroyer; death’s worker:
Demon master; root of hate.
hate;
mate.
Song 10 Poor Old Arthur, We Think He's Going to Die!
Crowd is swell-ing,
ten - sion ris - ing,
dul - cit voic - es
Kill - ing fields pre - pare for viol- ence,
Poor
old
Ar -
thur,
we
prom - ise doom,
wag - ers made on
think he's going to
Ar -
thur's tomb.
die!
He's
no
moth -
voice has had
Poor
old
no
time
Ar -
ther
to
hug
to break, there's no
thur,
it's
and kiss him good -
whisk - ers
cur - tains now
on
for
his
bye.
His
chin,
him.
Verse 1: Crowd is swelling, tension rising,
Dulcit voices promise doom,
Killing fields prepare for violence,
Wagers made on Arthur’s tomb
Chorus: Poor old Arthur, we think he’s going to die,
He’s no mother to hug and kiss him goodbye;
His voice has not had time to break, He’s no whiskers on his chin,
Poor old Arthur it’s curtains now for him.
Verse 2: Chilvalry is Arthur’s bye-word,
Pity that he’s such a runt,
Wears his armour like a jester,
Inside out and back to front.
Verse 3: Sounds of riders in the distance
Bravest hearts feel icy chill,
Arthur’s blood shall stain the greensward,
Hope he’s thought to make a will.
Song 11 Hail Arthur! King of the Britons
Hail
Ar-thur!
King
of the Brit-ons,
We will foll-ow where - e' - er you lead us,
rul - er
of the sac-red
isle;
We will march and hold our heads up
Hail Arthur, King of the Britons, ruler of the sacred isle.
We will follow, where’er you lead us,
We shall march and hold our heads up high. (Repeat with Black Knights)
high.
Song 12 I Won't Get to be King!
All
life
I've been
be my-self.
what
is
In my
to
come.
wait - ing for the time when I
world,
don't need
to live a
there's such lone-li-ness and fear for my
To - day's
the
day
when
I
put
my
lie
and I can
count-ry, for the pres-ent and for
the
past
to
rest,
lift the burd-ens on my chest
taleofwoe
of de-cep-tion long a-go;
I won't
get to be
Some things
are not
and I shall be my-self.
And
I shall be free,
king,
meant to be,
no, no,
I won't
look at
List-en now!
As I tell my
then I shall be free.
get to be
him and
king.
look at
me.
Use your
I won't
You know
ev - er
eyes and
you will
see, it's a
get to be king!
why I'm
way you
No,
slen-der?
look at
quest - ion
I won't
It's a
it,
If
you think
of bi - o - lo
-
gy.
get to be king.
quest-ion
hard you
of my
gen - der, Which
must ad -
mit:
I won't
king's a
bi - ceps
I won't
get to be king!
he and
are so
not
ve - ry
get to be king!
No,
a
she,
I
small,
If
No,
I won't
get to be king!
can't
hide the
I stand
I won't
straight I'm
get to be king!
fact I'm
four feet
A
me,
My
tall.
Have you
ev-er seen the sort of
kingwhose
ev - er seen a rul - er with a
Does a
swing
his
hips
taste
is for gold-en hairandring-lets down to the waist?
waist so slen-der that it
makes
king
a
in
wear a shift or
a
re
you won-der a - bout his
robe or
gal
smock?
walk?
Andhaveyou
gen-der?
Does he
If
you
re-cog-nise the tale of a
I
won't
get to
stressed fe-male, Then the
be king!
rea-son should be plain but I'll
No,
I
won't
get to
say it a - gain:
be king!
All my life, I’ve been waiting for the time when I don’t need to live a lie, and I can be myself.
In my world, there’s such loneliness and fear for my country for the present and for what is to come.
Today’s the day, when I’ll put the past to rest, lift the burdens on my chest, and I shall be myself.
Listen now, as I tell my tale of woe, of deception long ago,
And I shall be free, then I shall be free!
I won’t get to be king! No, no, I won’t get to be king.
Some things are just not meant to be, look at him and look at me,
Use your eyes and you will see, it’s a question of biology,
I won’t get to be king! No, I won’t get to be king!
You know why I’m slender? It’s a question of my gender,
Whichever way you look at it, if you think hard you must admit,
I won’t get to be king! No, I won’t get to be king!
A king’s a he and not a she, I can’t hide the fact I’m me,
My biceps are so very small, if I stand straight I’m four feet tall,
I won’t get to be king! No, I won’t get to be king!
(Arthur begins a transformation into Arwen by letting down her hair and shedding her outer cloak.)
Have – you - ever seen the sort of king whose taste
Is for golden hair in ringlets let down to the waist?
And have you ever seen a ruler with a waist so slender
That it makes you wonder about his gender?
Does - a - king wear a shift or a robe or smock?
Would he swing his hips in a regal walk?
If you recognise the tale of a stressed female,
Then the reason should be plain, but I’ll say it once again:
I won’t get to be king! No, I won’t get to be king!
Song 13 How Grand to be a Briton
How
grand
to be a
Bri-ton,
our
clothes
days
spent in the
tav-ern,
our
nights
grand
to be a
Bri-ton
it's
plain
are full of
fleas,
Our
spent up the
trees;
How
for all to
see,
Gru
-
bby and un - cul-tured,
but
ha
-
ppy as can
be.
We're
sat - is-fied
Rom-ans stop
that
and
rags and string
will
laugh at us
as
keep us warm
and
though we are the
mod-est.
odd-est.
The
Yet,
they've the stran - gest
Bri-tish march
to
fash-ion sense,
batt-le wear - ing
their
men wear gir
just a coat of
-
lie
clothes;
woad!
Chorus:
How grand to be a Briton, our clothes are full of fleas,
Our days spent in the tavern, our nights spent up the trees,
How grand to be a Briton, it’s plain for all to see,
Grubby and uncultured, but happy as can be.
We’re satisfied that rags and string will keep us warm and modest,
The Romans stop and laugh at us as though we are the oddest,
Yet they’ve the strangest fashion sense, their men wear girlie clothes,
We British march to battle wearing just a coat of woad.
Chorus
For many years we lived our lives without a single bath,
We look back now with fondness but you have to stop and laugh,
When you went out a-courting in your only set of clothes,
You held your girl at arm’s length with a cloths-peg on your nose.
Chorus
We
Suggestion for the Druids' Chant
verses vocalised here
Ooh
-
aah,
ooh
-
aah,
hmm -