Let me earn by bread sirs...

[Monomakh]

Yes... Perhaps I have heard your voices before, though I must have wandered many halls since,
But I am blinded long ere now and must rely on what I have learnt in song to afford my keep.
Let me quarter here Seigneurs, have you heard of the Battle of Caserta?

Henry of Sicily! The Heathen King! He lost his wife and throne!
And cursed by Pope and cursed by peasant - he headed north alone!
Course 'twas not quite all alone he marched when he left that rebel isle..
But a hundred thousand bitches' sons followed him in this trial!

And who did he did he intend to try?

It weren't the Vicar of Dibley with whom he tried the Pasodoble,
But the Bishop of Rome himself while he was diddling with the Doge!
And I'll wager the Norman army would've taken quite a toll,
If that Doge could've fought his way outside a pap'rus roll!

So what did they take instead?



Well they took a grand old flogging and many a man took flight,
Though at the start the fight was tighter than young Henry's wife!
And when they ran for Rheggio, they found, these bastard hordes,
That they couldn't run as fast as Romans bearing shields and swords!

So there isn't a Sicilian version of events then?

You may freely go and ask them sir! But before you might elope,
I'll tell you that you'll travel there on roads built by the Pope!
And when you meet them in their homes there isn't any hope,
That you'll find them 'neath a roof sir that weren't built by the Pope!