Burning Joan
The lament sung by the amorous prison guard, when he fails to engage the affections of the indifferent Joan.

I was a yeoman and I was a soldier
When I sailed from Dover the weather was fine
For Loval and Launceston Sir Thomas of Taunton
For Ranolf and Rudall my comrades and I

But I earned my spurs as a turnkey
For St George and a farthing a day
My battles were fought through the dungeons and vaults
My enemies battered with pulley's and chains

But shock-headed Joan was my beauty
She was my jewel and my prize
Scratching her tits in the blood and the shit
Plucking the lice from her thoroughbred thighs

Sometimes at her cell I would linger
To watch while she crouched in the straw
I'd be stroking her hair and she'd sullenly glare
But she never acknowledged my presence at all

So I shed no tears as the brazier crackled and rang
The arquebusiers and the flower of chivalry sang

Oh Joannie oh Joannie the tumbrel and the pony
Through the ranks of the yeomanry steer
The gallows is cold and the gibbet is lonely
We'll make things hot for you here

See I thought that I was her friend and protector
Compassion I readily gave
And oft of a while sympathetically smiled
As the callous inquisitors hammered away

But she never returned my affection
Nor ever my homage received
And since in my dreams as she spatters and screams
I secretly doubt she was thinking of me

As the flames licked her arse and her belly
For she never a glimmer betrayed
So I cast off my conscience I joined with the band
And I fiddled while Joan burned away

Intro. E E7
Verse/Chorus A D A E A D E (A)
Alternate Verse/Instr. D A D A D A F#m E
Bridge D A F#m E
Ending E E7 A