The Official Story
Our story begins many years ago when a penniless wanderer without hearth or home staggered off the moors, bottle in hand.
This drunken sot entered a small village in the highlands of Scotland and proceeded to drink every man under the table.
his chance this primeval letcher continued on to ravish every woman (and not a few barnyard animals) in the village using
wile, wit and a bit of the spirits contained in his ever full bottle.
Nine months later the dynasty that became McGroyne
No one knows exactly how many children the old man sired as we are constantly finding unsuspected cousins all over the
So we salute our partiarch whose name inspired fear and respect in men, women, sheep, and even a few
We salute dear old Pop McGroyne!
And now the ACTUAL story
Way back during Pennsic in 1993 a pirate walk formed.
It was the old fashioned kind
of pirate walk.
The kind that consisted of a bunch of drunken sots staggering from camp to camp singing pirate songs, yelling
AAARGH at the top of their lungs.
Oh and lets not forget the booze.
We would approach a camp, sneak up, (which is a hell of a feat when the group is drunk and about 100 people strong)
with shout charge into a camp.
We would pile in, grab every bit of food and booze we could locate as well as members of
the appropriate opposite sex and flee with the booty.
This continued for a lot of camps.
Eventually standing around
in a camp sampling their beverages Bartlett says "Hey, imagine a Scotsman named... I dunno, McGroyne. Patrick is his first
name. Pat McGroyne"
This was met with chortles and guffaws.
Next thing you know we have names
Jonathan became Pat.
Jim became Dragan.
Jay became Robin, aka Wee Rob.
Ed became Dustyn.
a while we met our friend Todd who we promptly christened Yank, our American cousin.
Soon on a whim we decided that
instead of yelling AAARGH when entering a camp we should shout MCGROYNE!
Well the first time we did it people werent
sure what we said. But once they knew it caught on like wildfire.
Soon everyone was screaming MCGROYNE and charging
about the Serenghetti. From 5 we expanded to hundreds, nay thousands of people making up silly names. Many silly stories were
born of that night and would take an entire website to tell. Some are better not told as the statute of limitations is still
Before dawn, the party ended, we went to bed figuring it was all over.
The rest of war, people kept
yelling MCGROYNE at us. We chuckled and went back to drinking.
Pennsic of 1994 arrived. We figured "Well, back to normal
SCA." No sooner had Ed arrived at Troll and people are yelling HEY MCGROYNE.
We fought it. Told them it was a drunken
joke. But there was no stopping it.
Soon we were better known by our McGroyne names than our proper SCA names.
Thus the clan became a reality.
Now the core family consists of about 40 people in 3 camps: Clan McGroyne-Highlanders,
Clan McGroyne-Lowlanders and Gift o' McGroyne.
We have more distant relations claiming the name than you can shake a stick
at, just look at the registry page. Heck we even have a spinoff group, Clan MacCleavage who camp with Dunn Phalin.
McGroyne, long may it wave!
Timeline of when people joined the core family
Quite a few are missing, our chronicler is attempting to fill this in
Robin (Wee Rob)
The Battle Hymn of McGroyne
(sung to the Battle Hymn of the Republic)
My thighs have felt the glory of the coming of McGroyne
Pickpockets and loose women from thos e famous fruitful loins
Women, sheep and knotholes each a-fearing Pop McGroyne
Our loins keep thrusting on...
Touch me, touch me, I'm a McGroyne
Touch me, touch me, I'm a McGroyne
Touch m e, touch me, I'm a McGroyne
Touch McGroyne! (final time shouted)
Beware Pickpockets and Loose Women
McGroyne! Huge poles but no Standards!
We have standards! The Sheep
McGroyne, none bigger.
Up with McGroyne!
Homo Erectus and nae further.
McGroyne is popping up all
I' m feelin' McGroyne.
Everyone wants McGroyne.
McGroyne, long may we wave!
and our famous battle cry:
Go ahead, yell TOUCH see who answers.
Words to live by
Uni accipite agna intacta (Only accept virgin ewes) Motto of the Church of Ewe.
Catapultam habeo. Nisi pecuniam omnem mihi dabis ad capultuum saxum immane mittam. -- I have a catapult. Give me
all the money or I will fling an enormous rock at your head.
Macacos me mordam. Monkeys bite me. -- Portuguese idiom
Scotch - Because one doesn't solve the world's problems over white wine. -- my personal favorite
There's nary an animal alive that can outrun a greased Scotsman. - Groundskeeper Willie
Here's to the men of all classes,
Who through lasses and glasses
Will make themselves asses! -- Scottish toast