The Wife of Bath on Joan of Arc....or "Why Virgins be Crazy"

So remember the Duke Gyrth Memorial Smackdown I was talking about?  And how I was pretending to be the Wife of Bath and writing poetry about people I was assigned to like/not like?  Guess how the Wife of Bath feels about Joan of Arc!  :-D

Good gentles, you may know this girl, perchance –

the Maid of Orleans – the Dupe of France.

A pretty child she was, though peasant-bred.

Her father’s land and office kept them fed

and well-content with simple country life.

She would have made a happy, gainful wife.

But no one wants to wed a lunatic!

She couldn’t catch the poorest country hick

with voices in her head.  We all can tell –

though they be angels, life with you’d be hell!

Poor Joan could see she never would make good,

and found a man the only way she could.

Now knowing that the French brigade enjoys

the company of rosy little boys,

our desperate Joan donned pants and bound her breast

and prayed that they would overlook the rest.

But generals and dukes could see that France

was sore in need of more than dalliance.

“Lo there, that crazy wench – she freaks me out!

Her raving could put all our foes to rout!”

They laughed – and then their laughter turned to tears.

That was the best idea they’d had in years.

Our frenzied Joan was now on a crusade,

“The angels tell me I must die a maid!

And in the service of my sovereign land

I’ll bow to God, but not to husband’s hand.”

But gullible and witless, Joan would dance,

a puppet jerked around by Charles of France.

And so a Spartan soldier’s life she led,

no lover ever warming her in bed.

How independent was she? Oh, I hope

you know that Charles kept her on a short rope.

She did his bidding like the meekest wife

and never guessed he’d play her like a fife.

She cut a hundred English fighters down

ensuring that her king would have his crown.

But sure the English caught her by and by

and Charles the Bastard hung her out to dry.

Poor Joan, we know your trial was a sham,

that you were France’s sacrificial lamb.

He could have ransomed you, but did you think

that lacking ties of marriage Charles would blink

at what befell you once he had his prize?

Mayhap the voices were more loud than wise.

Now if but one thing from my tale you learn,

‘tis better, girls, to marry than to burn.