Arrest these merry gentles, nay, it would be so unkind,
If you'll but wait a moment, sir, we will relieve your mind.
We are not escaped lunatics, so kindly us unbind,
For we are your local S C A, SCA,
For we are your local S C A.

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 S C A.

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.
For we are your local S C A.

We really are not dangerous Although we like to fight.
We do it on a tourney field, You see, so it's all right.
And we wear lots of armour, too, Like any noble knight,
And use our wooden sticks to whale away, whale away,
For we are your local S C A.

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.
For we are your local S C A.

We have a King and Prince who do Our loyalty command
This is Three Rivers Barony, 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.
For we are your local S C A.

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 S C A.