They landed at Dover
And soon met with a peasant
A nice looking gal
Carrying a pheasant.
‘I say lass,’ said Sir Fouke
‘Please accept this parcel.
Tell us where is King John?.’
‘He’s at Windsor Castle.’
So Fouke said farewell
To this young head turner
And met in the forest
A charcoal burner.
‘I say young man
I don’t want to be any trouble
Can you sell me your clothes
And that lovely shovel?’
‘I don’t see that they are
Anything to admire.’
‘Just sell them, man
And I’ll stoke the fire.’
‘If you ask me,’ said the man
‘It all sounds a bit funny.’
‘Look, just shuttup,
And take the money.’
So the deal was done
And off went the man
Leaving Fouke with the clothes
The shovel in his hand.
Now as Fouke poked the fire
With a huge iron fork.
Who should come by
But King John on a walk?
As the King appeared
Striding through the trees
Fouke had a plan
And fell on his knees.
‘Oh a peasant,’ said the king,
‘What a frightful drag.
But maybe he knows
Where I can find a stag.
I say, peasant,
Do you live here
Have you seen a stag
A buck, or a deer?
What’s the matter man
Why are you groaning
It’s the trouble with peasants
They’re always moaning.’
‘Ooh Sorry my lord,
You see, it’s me corns
But I did see a beast
And it had big horns.
I can take you to see him
If you don’t mind my talk
But please my lord
Can I bring my iron fork?
To you it might be
Nothing more than dross
But if it were stolen
Twould be a great loss.’
‘Oh I suppose you’re someone
In whom we can trust.
Bring the fork, peasant,
If you really must’
Luckily King John
Didn’t look Fouke in the face
And soon Fouke brought him
To a good shooting place.
‘D’you like this place, sir
I’ve done my best to pick it.
I can now go ahead
And go into that thicket
I’ll take my big fork
And bash it about
And with a bit of luck
The stag’ll come out.’
Once Fouke was in the bush
And out of sight.
He whistled loud
With all his might.
It was a signal
The Fouke Gang knew well.
Their leader was near
They could tell.
‘You’re back at last, sir
Let’s have a long chat.’
‘Shush, you fools
No time for that.
D’you have any idea
Who that is over there?’
‘The Duke of Windsor?
The Pope? A grizzly bear?’
‘You’re the greatest fools
On whom sun ever shone.
That, you idiots
Is the evil King John.’
So they jumped on the King
And tied him to a tree
‘Now,’ says Fouke,
‘Are you listening to me?
History will say
This is my finest hour
I have you foul King
In my power.
For the pain you have caused
Prepare to die
To this world in its beauty
Now Say goodbye.’
‘Oh Mercy, Sir Fouke
I meant you no harm never
You can have your castle back
Forever and ever.’
‘Prick your royal thumb
With a thorn from this hedge
And make what you say
A solemn pledge.’
‘Oh I will oh I will
Look I’m trying.’
Fouke didn’t know
That the king was lying.
Foolishly he allowed
The king to go back
Back To Windsor
To prepare an attack.
John gathered together
All the great names
Sir Randolph of Chester
The Earl Marshal and Sir James.
They put on their armour
It was a splendid sight
They rode white horses
And the armour was white.
Not that all that gear
Did them much good
Fouke was waiting
Deep in the wood.
In the fight that followed
Fouke brought the knights to their knees
Then he could do with them
Just whatever he pleased.
Sir Fouke le fitz waryn
Got up to his usual biz.
He swapped the gear round
Made Sir James wear his.
He put Sir James’ gear on
Another king’s knight
And sent them off under guard
In the cover of night.
When the King found them
It was a damn close thing
That Sir James wasn’t killed
By John the King.
Now Fouke was thinking
He was riding his luck
‘If I stay here
I could get stuck’
The forest has become
Too dangerous he thought
And he headed back
To his ship in the port.
The Captain was pleased
To see he hadn’t come to a bad end.
‘Take me away from this place’
Said Fouke to his friend.
Well they put out to sea
In the ship once again
And not long after
Sailed past Spain.
You may know the Cotswolds
And a place called Charlbury
This was nothing like it
It was called Barbary.
The King saw the boat
Sent one of his men to take it.
Though the knight he sent
Very nearly didn’t make it.
He was clambering aboard
And along the deck creeping
When he came on Fouke
Who was very busy sleeping.
Fouke was captured
Fouke was seized
I’m pretty sure
He wasn’t very pleased.
Now you remember Fouke’s wife
It’s true that he missed her
But we have to mention here
The King of Barbary’s sister.
She was lovely and gentle
It can’t be denied
She noticed that our Fouke
Had a wound in his side.
‘Oh sir,’ she said,
Looking kind and pert
‘That wound in your side…
You’re awfully hurt.’
‘Oh that?’ said Fouke.
‘Yes I remember now.’
‘Oh tell me how it happened
Tell me how.’
‘I am Marin le perdu
Or the Sailor Lost
And I am in true love
Sadly crossed.
I was made to feel
Such a lowly churl
I was in love with the daughter
Of a noble earl.
She said she loved me
But felt full sore
That she loved another man
Even more.
One night we lay
In each other’s arms
My mind and heart
Were free of qualms
When the man she loved
More than I could abide
Burst into the room
And stabbed me in the side.’
‘Oh my lord, poor you
Drink this gruel
I can’t think of a lady
Who could have been more cruel.
I tell you something
That comes to mind
You could do with a lady
Who is much more kind.’
‘Ah yes,’ said Sir Fouke
‘You’ve got a good point there.
I’d love to meet someone like that
But where?’
The lady looked long
And deep in his eyes
‘Who knows,’ she said
‘Where the answer lies?’
At this point, dear friends
We’ll cut short this tryst
I’m sure it’s something
You’d rather you missed.
Likewise a battle
Oh no, not another
Where Fouke nearly killed someone
Who turned out to be his brother.
‘Oh what a hard life,’ he was saying
‘I’ve led.’
When Fouke said, ‘I say
You must be Philip the Red.
Me and you have got
The very same mother
Put it another way
You’re my brother.’
Well that pleased them both
One helluva lot
That each of them
A brother had got.
So they bid adieu
To the King of Barbary
Who lived in a place
That was nothing like Charlbury.
Back in England
Fouke remembered his brother
I don’t mean Philip
I mean another
His name was William
You’ll be utterly enraptured
To know that William
Had been seriously captured.
King John had him
In some dark dungeon
With never a meal
Not even luncheon.
Did I tell you
About that before?
If I did, just wait,
I think there’s more.
You remember John
One of Fouke’s guys
Who was always good
At getting up in disguise.
Well this time John
Would make his pitch
Dressed as a merchant
Seriously rich.
He headed for London
Found a place to stay there
In the house of none other
Than London’s Mayor.
His name wasn’t Dick
Or for that matter Ken
But he was one of the King’s
Favouritest men.
Soon our John
Was brought before the King
This time though
He didn’t play or sing.
‘Kind sir, I’m a merchant
If you pleece.
I come from a country
By the name of Greece.
I am being also
In Babylon
I am hearing over there
Of your Avalon.
Also I am being
In Alexandria
You look my treasure
And think me conjurer!’
‘Yes, yes, yes,’ said the King
Interrupting the laughter
‘But what, Mr Merchant
Are you after?’
Just then a man was brought in
It was just as John feared
It was William fitz waryn
Waryn a long beard.
He was thin and weak
In a wretched state
John tried to show him
That he was his mate.
But it wasn’t something
He could easily show
If he was to set him free
He’d have to do it slow.
So day by day
And week by week
John became known
As the friendly Greek.
Seeing John would give
Everyone a lift
Especially as he usually
Came with a gift.
One time though
John came with some men
And they grabbed william
And he was free again.
King John as usual was
Utterly enraged
And ran about
Like a lion caged.
But now Fouke
With all his brothers
Headed for the forest
With hundreds of others.
When they heard the King
Was coming hunting
They didn’t put out the flags
Or the bunting.
Oh no, they ambushed him
And didn’t let him go
‘Let me go,’ said the king
But the Fouke gang said ‘no.’
‘Give me back Whittington
Do you hear me King?’
‘Oh alright, Fouke
Have every damned thing.
Have your little castle
If you must
I really don’t know
What’s been all the fuss.
I’ve always thought
That castle’s a dud
Not worth spilling
All that blood.
I don’t believe you
That People rate it
Surely you wouldn’t
Celebrate it?’
‘Oh yes, we do’
Said Fouke with force
And returned to his castle
Mounted on a horse.
Well he would have returned
If something hadn’t cropped up
To tell the truth
He nearly got chopped up.
When friends asked for favours
Fouke was always pliant
Though this time it meant
Fighting a giant.
Ireland’s not a place for giants
You’d assume
But it was there that Fouke
Nearly met his doom
Face to face
He was about to stall
When he saw a giant
Twelve feet tall.
I don’t want to gossip
Or tittle tattle.
But when Knight after knight
Tried to do battle,
He just picked them up
And squeezed out their breath
’Til each and every one
Met a frightful death.
That is until Fouke
Did battle with the man
And Fouke as you’d expect
Had a cunning plan.
He wouldn’t leave
Anything to chance
He’d ride forward on horse
Spear him with his lance.
But the Giant was no fool
He knew his eggs.
He drew his sword
And cut off the horse’s legs.
The horse couldn’t cope
He fell down
With him fell Fouke
Down to the ground.
The giant stepped up
It was nearly all over
Fouke wished he was
Back in Dover.
Oh no, thought Fouke
I’m as good as dead
But as the giant drew close
Fouke chopped off his head.
By the giant’s side
Lay his fearsome hatchet
Fouke pushed aside trophy hunters
And was able to snatch it.
And the truth of the matter
Is he brought it home
Vowing to his wife
He’d never more roam
Indeed he didn’t
He shared out lands and gold
Lived right here
’Til he was very old
Though with pleasure
He always filled her
He did outlive
The lovely Matilda
So he married a French lady
Not from Paris
She came from Auberville
By the name of Clarice.
As you know by now
Fouke never fails
His daughter Eve
Married the Prince of Wales.
Fouke and Clarice
Lived on. Not quite forever.
It has to be said
He wasn’t that clever
In case you think
He was too smug, too contented
You’ll be pleased to know
That Fouke repented
Yes the last years of his life
Were a bit of a bind
God seemed to have made him
Completely blind.
You see one night
Of his sins he was much minded
A bright light appeared
And by that he was blinded.
But it made him think
Of the words of the song
You thought you were right
But in fact you were wrong.
He thought and he thought
And he thought once again
What a terrible shame
I killed all those men.
I know I lost Whittington
Could I have got it back
Without killing all those people?
There must be a knack…
And a vision came to him
As he stood there
Of a time in the future
Of a Whittington where
The people of the village
Gathered around
Saying let’s make this ours
Let’s stand our ground.
And all those local
Women and men
Not with a sword
But with a pen
Turned Whittington Castle
Into a place of fun
A place that could be used
By everyone.
So old Fouke could see
Tho he had no eyes
That there are other ways
To be canny and wise.
So in the name of Fouke
I say cheers to this castle
Even though
He was a bit of a rascal.
