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
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."