jeanne d'arc

I went down, as I had resolved to do,
to the house where the preachers preyed.
"You who know should help me,"
were the words I used, and said:

"Arachidi, Pindas, Cacahouetes, Erdnusse."

Twenty-five years after Joan of Arc fried
the fathers of Rouen said she shouldn't have died

— They apologized;
— They agonized;
— Their more poetic eulogized.

But still, butt-still, she lay,
a little lump: unleavened clay.

She couldn't sue.  Her suet grey
had melted clear and cleared away.

Jeanne d'Arc appeared in The Armchair Aesthete. Paul Agosto, the editor, added this note:  "Both Joan of Arc and Alan Reynolds occasionally visited Rouen for their work.  Hers had not only obviously more impact but also, so-far, more definite termination.  Each time Alan is in Rouen, he thinks of her, and of the savageries they both ascribe to religion, and he sings this little song for her."