Arrest these merry gentles, nay, it would be so unkind
If you'll just wait a moment, sir, we will relieve your mind.
We are not escaped lunatics, so kindly us unbind,
Chorus 1
For we are your local SCA, SCA
For we are your local SCA.
Verse 2
These men aren't wearing dresses, sir, those are not pantyhose
No, those are tights and tunics, sir, they are medieval clothes
And men were really macho then, as everybody knows,
So please do not look upon us that way, that way,
For we are your local SCA.
Verse 3
We recreate past ages, sir, and that is all we do.
Please give our swords and knives to us, we'd like our axes too.
Return us all our weapons, sir, the act you will not rue,
For we mostly use them for display, display,
Verse 4
Oh, we pavanne in public, sir, the horse bransle do, also.
Full many a fine feast attend, and to a revel go.
And all that night we sing and drink, for free the mead doth flow.
Then drive four hundred miles the next day, the next day,
Verse 5
We have a King and Queen who do, our loyalty command.
We're the College of St. Golias, the finest in the land,
And we are on our way to court, but not the one you planned.
Oh, please let us go upon our way, our way,
Verse 6
Arrest these merry gentles, nay, discretion you should use,
For we are lords and ladies, sir, so how can you refuse.
I say? That is a lady, sir, you should not her abuse,
It is not genteel to act this way, this way,
And lock up your local SCA!