LYRICS:

Ok, pamplemousse, baguette and brie. Are you ready?

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I’m Joan Of Arc from Domremy, religious visions came to me
God said save France from the English and make Dauphin Charles king.
Dauphin means heir to the throne, but England claimed the crown as their own.

We had a hundred years of war, this girl had to do something.
So I did it like a dude, cut my hair
Gave up wearing dresses, bought a pair
Of trousers, no blouses, said I wanna fight Angleterre.

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Charles let me join the army, army, army
Know that might sound barmy, barmy, barmy
I proved impressive, hit by an arrow and lived.

English troops I over ranny, ranny, ranny
Defeated them at Patay, Patay, Patay.
We saved Orleans and Charles was crowned tres bon.

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Me leading troops, a long shot, but I was a lucky mascot
Inspired soldiers with bravery, fought injured and survived.

But in 1430 Burgundians captured me! King Charles couldn’t pay my ransom
No-one told me why.

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Being prisoner was not my style, tried escaping from my capture’s vile
But then the English who fought me, bought me, made me stand, trial!

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So where was King Charlie, Charlie, Charlie?
He’d given up and left me, left me, left me.
In the Englishish snare, whole thing so unfair.

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They put me in a uh-huh, n-nunnery
They said don’t be uh-huh, f-funnery.
If you dress like a male we’ll put you in men’s jail.

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(Joan of Arc - you’re charged with sorcery.
You’re just jealous cos God speaks to me.
Say you speak to saints? In this discourse? What language do they speak?
French of course.
Pah! Now you’re in prison, they have failed ya.
I say it’s God’s plan that you’re my jailer.
Here’s a trick question in that case; do you think you’re in God’s grace?

If I am not may God put me there and if I am may God so keep me.

Oh your smart remarks go round the houses.

You’re guilty of heresy (and wearing men’s trousers).)

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Despite my testimony, mony, mony
Condemned for reasons phony, phony, phony
But my will did not break so they tied me to a stake.

Burned alive was my destiny, tiny, tiny
And here is the irony, rony, rony
My death led France to put on war paint. and crush the English, so now, I’m a saint.