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Ballads of Suburbia

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Stephanie Kuehnert

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“Why does your sword so drip with blood, Edward, Edward? Why does your sword so drip with blood? And why so sad are ye, O?' 'O, I have killed my hawk so good, Mother, mother: O I have killed my hawk so good: And I had no more but he, O.' 'Your hawk's blood was never so red, Edward, Edward: Your hawk’s blood was never so red, My dear son I tell thee, O.' 'O, I have killed my red-roan steed, Mother, mother: O, I have killed my red-roan steed, That once was so fair and free, O.' 'Your steed was old, and we have got more, Edward, Edward: Your steed was old, and we have got more, Some other evil ye fear, O.' 'O, I have killed my father dear, Mother, mother: O, I have killed my father dear, Alas! and woe is me, O!' 'And what penance will ye suffer for that, Edward, Edward? And what penance will ye suffer for that? My dear son, now tell me, O.' 'I'll set my feet in yonder boat, Mother, mother: I’ll set my feet in yonder boat, And I’ll fare over the sea, O.' 'And what will ye do with your towers and your halls, Edward, Edward? And what will ye do with your towers and your halls, That were sae fair to see, O?' 'I’ll let them stand till they down fall, Mother, mother: I’ll let them stand till they down fall, For here never more may I be, O.' 'And what will ye leave to your children and your wife, Edward, Edward? And what will ye leave to your children and your wife When ye go over the sea, O?' 'The world is large, let them beg through life, Mother, mother: The world is large, let them beg throw life, For them never more will I see, O.' 'And what will ye leave to your own mother dear, Edward, Edward? And what will ye leave to your own mother dear? My dear son, now tell me, O.' 'The curse of hell from me shall you bear for me, Mother, mother: The curse of hell from me shall you bear for me, Such counsels you gave to me, O.”

DeathMurderBallad
Author:Anonymous
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“This is my gift to you and your reward, Tom Mulligan, maker of ballads and journeyman worker in fine tales. 'Tis more than your wish was. Nayther you nor anyone who sits at your table, through all your life, will ever want a bite to ate or a sup to dhrink, nor yet a silver shilling to cheer him on his way. Good luck to all here and goodbye!" Even as they looked at the King he was gone, vanished like a light that's blown out-and they never saw him more. But the news spread. Musicianers, poets, and story-tellers, and jayniouses flocked to the ballad maker's cabin from all over Ireland. Any fine day in the year one might see them gather in dozen knots before his door and into as many little crowds about the stable. In each crowd, from morning till night, there was a chune being played, a ballad sung, or a story being tould. Always one could find there blacksmiths, schoolmasters, and tinkers, and all trades, but the greater number be far, av coorse, were beggarmen. Nor is that same to be wondhered at, bekase every jaynious, if he had his own way and could folly his own heart's desire'd start to-morrow at daybreak with the beggarman's staff and bag. But wherever they came from, and whatever their station, Tom Mulligan stumped on his wooden leg from crowd to crowd, the jovial, happy master of them all.”

StorytellerLeprechaunBallad
Book:Darby O'Gill and the Good People
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“I am he, Hell within mercy, as Almighty spawned in vain. Anguish on the bastard throne, I crucify the last martyr. Born with a heinous offering, I decay the lies of Holy. Whoring the seed through the cunt of a serpent, I sought the plagues as her juices spew on me. Anointed by the prongs of sin, blasphemy reaches its darkest manifestation. Conjure of unlight swells within thy legions of thy great accuser, as thy wrenched is for thy Satan comes forth at the dawn of reckoning.”

MagicSatanismDevilishPhilospheyBlack MetalPhilopsher
Author:D.L. Lewis
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“Specter of all evils, his terrible hand extends a vengeance. A great beast, the Devil's apprentice - ruler of evil and good. Enemy of God, an outcast of Heaven - emperor of all torments. A ritual figure, a pagan idol - occult leader for all Witches & Satanists. Philosophy of Good, an exile in Holy Pages - his blackness is his reign. Preist dreads him, pagans worship him - for he is God in the universe of unclean. A victor king in the kingdom of sinners, known as the all-powerful Baphomet.”

SatanismDevilishSatanistPhilospheyBlack MetalPhilospher
Author:D.L. Lewis
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