This was the other piece. One of my household members was inducted into the SCA's Order of the Pelican (Service award), which is pretty much as high as you can go without winning a Crown Tourney or something. He had no idea that the award was coming; heck, he had no idea that I was showing up to give him this poem, which made the look on his face all the funnier.
The verse form is Anglo-Saxon: the answer is after the fold.
What comes now to hall / Keeping company
New thing, we find it / Though no surprise, this
Beast of Wonder / Brave-flown from South-lands
Not found without purse / Prepared for all things!
Blushes not at praise / But to soothe chick's calls;
To heal war and peace / It works its virtue.
Service is its cry / and idleness its foe!
From its willing heart / Have we made physick;
It is service strong / And soaring flight
If you know this beast / Be not shy to name!
The answer is "Pelican." It's more obvious if you're a SCAdian.