Scribal-Talkie

A poem in honor of the scribes of the SCA.
(c) Copyright 1989 Stephen Goldschmidt. Used by permission.
Trademarks are property of their owners.

'Twas scribal, and the peerage text
  was inked with nibs 'pon the bristol.
All period were the ligatures
  and the uncial, artificial.

"Beware the interlace, my son,
  the inks that fade, the leaves that scratch.
Beware the fixatives the shun
  the Herald's sealing wax!"

He took his cobalt blue in hand,
  long time acanthus leaves he wrought,
the laid it by for the guache to dry
  and limned awhile on a trefoil knot.

And as the trefoil knot he limned,
  his interlace in cadmium red
came bleeding through the bristol board
  and on the peerage bled!

One-two!  One-two!  and through and through
  Xacto blade went snicker-snack.
He made it whole and with his scroll
  he went triumphant back.

"Hast thou learnt to interlace?
  Show me thy work, my warranted boy!
Oh frabjous day!  Callig!  Callay!"
  he chortled in his joy.

'Twas scribal, and the peerage text
  was inked with nibs 'pon the bristol.
All period were the ligatures
  and the uncial, artificial.

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