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Goddwyn; A Tragedie

PERSONS REPRESENTED.
HAROLDE, bie T. Rowleie, the Aucthoure.
GODDWYN, bie Johan de Iscamme.
ELWARDE, bie Syrr Thybbot Gorges.
ALSTAN, bie Syrr Alan de Vere.
KYNGE EDWARD; bie Mastre Wilyam Canynge.
Odhers bie Knyghtes Mynnstrells.

PROLOGUE
WHYLOMME bie pensmenne moke ungentle name
Have upon Goddwynne Erle of Kente bin layde,
Dherebie benymmynge hymme of faie and fame;
Unliart divinistres haveth saide,
Thatte he was knowen toe noe hallie wurche ;
Botte thys was all hys faulte, he gyfted ne the churche.
The aucthoure of the piece whiche we enacte,
Albeytte a clergyon trouthe wyll wrytte.
Inne drawynge of hys menne no wytte ys lackte;
Entyn a kynge mote bee full pleased to nyghte.
Attende, and marcke the partes nowe to be done;

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poem by Thomas Chatterton
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The Gouler's Requiem

Mie boolie entes, adiewe: ne more the syghte
Of guilden merke shalle mete mie joieous eyne;
Ne moe the sylver noble sheenynge bryghte,
Shalle fylle mie hande wythe weighte to speke ytte fyne;
Ne moe, ne moe, alas, I calle you myne;
Whyder must you, ah! whydder moste I goe?
I kenne not either! Oh mie emmers dygne,
To parte wythe you wyll wurche me myckle woe.
I must begon, butte where I dare nott telle,
O storthe unto mie mynde! I goe to helle.
Soone as the morne dyd dyghte the roddie sunne,
A shade of theves eache streacke of lyghte dyd seeme;
Whan yn the Heaven full half hys course was ronne,
Eche styrrynge nayghbour dyd mie harte afleme;
Thie Losse, or quyck or slepe, was aie mie dreme;
For thee, O goulde, I did the lawe ycrase,
For thee I gotten or bie wiles or breme;
Ynn thee I all mie joie and goode dyd place;
Botte nowe to mee thie pleasaunce ys ne moe,
I kenne notte botte for thee I to the quede muste goe.

poem by Thomas Chatterton
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Battling Racism

I have wanted to tell my story of Sgt. Vigay.
When we first met, him claiming cool,
and get's Hell out's -is way.
I never felt such hatred, prejudice, like that first day.
That was my first moments, But I swore, I'd make him pay.

It started, claiming he'd whip's my body,
Like's moppen's the hall.
He'd whip's this I'd'ho white boy, in Bassit Ball
There he stood, six three or four, big and frighting.
But I mouthed, moe foe, have you ever seen?
I'd'ho white greased lighting?

The hurts and the banging, I knew what I'd get.
All the money I had, but what the Heck?
I placed life, death, on that six dollor bet.
Battling racisim, I bet they're still wondering even yet?

The brothers all cheered, for their man six feet four.
The fight was finally over 21,24,

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poem by Clyde Bryson
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Mc's Ultra Part 2

[kool keith]
I have a mystical style, combined with common data
If a sucker can't catch it, to me, it doesn't matter
A fact, equivalent, to a stupid mc
I'm greater -- than the rest of them
I'ma smack every duck and beat the best of them
Til they die, and i'm tellin no lie
By a native warrior, from the bronx, cooley high
As my rhymes get tougher mc's all suffer
From the consequence, and all elegance
Your girl's on my jock and it don't make sense at all
Because we're havin a ball
Takin out all suckers, ??
Cause you got too many, to find your big group
And get paid, and try to be like me
Not another sucker duck punk toy mc
Cause we're.. "ultra"
[ced gee]
Check it
Come one, come all, we can all have a ball

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song performed by Ultramagnetic Mc's
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ælla, A Tragical Interlude - Act II

SCENE I
MAGNUS, HURRA, and HIE PREESTE, wyth the ARMIE, neare Watchette.
MAGNUS.
Swythe lette the offrendes to the Goddes begynne,
To knowe of hem the issue of the fyghte.
Potte the blodde-steyned sword and pavyes ynne;
Spreade swythyn all arounde the hallie lyghte.
HIE PREESTE syngeth.
Yee, who hie yn mokie ayre
Delethe seasonnes foule or fayre,
Yee, who, whanne yee weere agguylte,
The mone yn bloddie gytelles hylte,
Mooved the starres, and dyd unbynde
Everyche barriere to the wynde;
Whanne the oundynge waves dystreste,
Storven to be overest,
Sockeynge yn the spyre-gyrte towne,
Swolterynge wole natyons down;
Sendynge dethe, on plagues astrodde,
Moovynge lyke the erthys Godde;

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poem by Thomas Chatterton
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Elinoure And Juga

ONNE Ruddeborne bank twa pynynge Maydens sate,
Theire teares faste dryppeynge to the waterre cleere;
Echone bementynge for her absente mate.
Who atte Seyncte Albonns shouke the morthynge speare.
The nottebrowne Elinoure to Juga fayre
Dydde speke acroole , wythe languishment of eyne,
Lyche roppes of pearlie dew, lemed the quyvryng brine.
ELINOURE.
O gentle Juga! heare mie dernie plainte,
To fyghte for Yorke mie love ys dyghte in stele;
O maie ne sanguen steine the whyte rose peyncte,
Maie good Seyncte Cuthberte watche Syrre Roberte wele.
Moke moe thanne deathe in phantasie I feele;
See! see! upon the grounde he bleedynge lies;
Inhild some joice of lyfe, or else mie deare love dies.
JUGA.
Systers in sorrowe, on thys daise-ey'd banke,
Where melancholych broods, we wyll lamente;
Be wette wythe mornynge dewe and evene danke;
Lyche levynde okes in eche the odher bente,

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poem by Thomas Chatterton
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Kool Keith Housing Things

[kool keith]
Well i'm sonically, high bionically
For you dummies, ironically stupid
What are you, cupid?
You steal my rhymes, and then you loop it
Wrong! back this way
Follow me now, head this way
Into this, while i rap on through this
For many germs, who never knew this
Switches, upside down
Turn around, look in the mirror
You rap catchers are makin a error
Every inning, i'm back to the dugout
You on the field, i'm ready to bugout
Like a manager, smackin up your team
Male or female, ducks who dream
Of takin me, on the mic and makin me
Rack up, mc's i stack up
Foreign precinct rappers need to back up
Quickly, i'ma rip your brain off

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song performed by Ultramagnetic Mc's
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Ego Trippin' 2000

[c.gee] spaceman on the bass..
Classic..
Party peoples, in the place to be
Just for you, it's the ultra-magnetic, mc's!
[c.gee] yeah...
[keith] say what, peter piper?
[c.gee] to hell with childish rhymes!
[keith] cause this jam is just movin
[c.gee] the crowd is steady groovin
[keith] to a supersonic pace
[c.gee] with highs and stupid bass
[keith] with some pep
[c.gee] and the step
[ultra] cause the beat is so funky the pace is well kept
Cause we're..
"ultra.." {magnetic, magnetic} doo doo doo-doo
"mc's ultra.." {magnetic, magnetic} doo doo doo-doo
"mc's ultra.." {magnetic, magnetic} doo doo doo-doo "mc's"
[c.gee] so what's his name? uhh
[keith] i'm kool keith

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song performed by Ultramagnetic Mc's
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Bristowe Tragedie: Or The Dethe Of Syr Charles Badwin

THE featherd songster chaunticleer
Han wounde hys bugle horne,
And tolde the earlie villager
The commynge of the morne.
Kynge EDWARDE sawe the ruddie streakes
Of lyghte eclypse the greie;
And herde the raven's crokynge throte
Proclayme the fated daie.
'Thou'rt ryght,' quod hee, 'for, by the Godde
That syttes enthron'd on hyghe!
CHARLES BAWDIN, and hys fellowes twain,
To-daie shall surelie die.
Thenne wythe a jugge of nappy ale
Hys Knyghtes dydd onne hymm waite;
'Goe tell the traytour, thatt to-daie
'Hee leaves thys mortall state.'
Syr CANTERLONE thenne bendedd low;
Wythe harte brymm-fulle of woe;
Hee journey'd to the castle-gate,
And to Syr CHARLES dydd goe.

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poem by Thomas Chatterton
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Many People

Many people are here
Many people are not
Many people have left
Many people have come -
We have seen many people that are not here.
Many people have died
Many people have lived -
The many people we loved and do love, have gone and left us.
Many of our friends and family are lost
For fear has taken me.
The pieces have fallen and broken and can’t be fixed
Those pieces were my life
And now my life is gone
For I am alone with none to guide me through my time
I am alone
I am alone.

poem by Moe Moe Bob
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