Horrible Histories - Joan of Arc

[JOAN OF ARC]
Ok, pamplemousse, baguette and brie. Are you ready?

I'm Joan Of Arc from Domrémy
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

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 Orléans and Charles was crowned, trés bon!

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 wouldn't pay my ransom
No one told me why!
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!

So where was King Charlie, Charlie, Charlie?
He'd given up and left me, left me, left me
In the English snare
Whole thing so unfair
They put me in a uh- hu? N-nunnery
They said don't be uh-hu? F-funnery
If you dress like a male
We'll put you in men's jail

[ENGLISH JUDGE]
Joan of Arc? You're charged with sorcery
[JOAN OF ARC]
You're just jealous 'cause God speaks to me
[ENGLISH JUDGE]
Say you speak to saints?
In this discourse, what language do they speak?
[JOAN OF ARC]
French, of course.

[ENGLISH JUDGE]
Pah! Now you're in prison, they have failed you.
[JOAN OF ARC]
I say it's God's plan that you're my jailer.
[ENGLISH JUDGE]
Here's a trick question in that case.
Do you think you're in God's grace… ?
[JOAN OF ARC]
If I am not, may God put me there
And if I am, may God so keep me
[ENGLISH JUDGE]
Oh, your smart remarks go round the houses
You're guilty of heresy (and wearing men's trousers)

[JOAN OF ARC]
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