Now the flames they followed Joan of Arc
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as she came riding through the dark;
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no moon to keep her armour bright,
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no man to get her through this dark and smoky night.
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She said, "I'm tired of the war,
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I want the kind of work I had before,
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A wedding dress or something white
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to wear upon my swollen appetite."
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¡°Well, I'm glad to hear you talk this way,
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I've watched you riding every day
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and there is something in me that yearns to win
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such a cold, such a lonesome heroine¡±.
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"And who are you?" she sternly spoke
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to the one beneath the smoke.
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"Why, I'm fire," he replied,
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"And I love your solitude, I love your pride."
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"Well, then, fire make your body cold,
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I'm going to give you mine to hold."
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And saying this she climbed inside
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to be his one, to be his only bride.
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Then deep into his fiery heart
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he took the dust of Joan of Arc,
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and high above all these wedding guests
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he hung the ashes of her lovely wedding dress.
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It was deep into his fiery heart
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he took the dust of Joan of Arc,
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and then she clearly understood
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if he was fire, oh, she must be wood.
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I saw her wince, I saw her cry,
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I saw the glory in her eye.
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Myself I long for love and light,
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but must it come so cruel,
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must it be so bright?
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Joan Of Arc
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Allison Crowe |