Hildegard von Blingin'

Manchild - Sabrina Carpenter (Bardcore | Medieval Cover) Whitney Avalon & Hildegard von Blingin’

▶ Spotify: This song won't be up for a bit, but you can find Hildegard’s other work here: https://open.spotify.com/artist/5BSPl6yCVGvrCyKUp2peGM ▶ Consider supporting the channel on Patreon, where I share all my instrumentals: https://patreon.com/hildegardvonblingin Whitney Avalon ▶ Whitney’s channel with over 60 other funny songs: https://youtube.com/@WhitneyAvalon ▶ Whitney’s Patreon: https://patreon.com/whitneyavalon I am elated to present another collaboration with the brilliant and hilarious Whitney Avalon! She teamed up with me to reimagine Sabrina Carpenter’s sweet yet acerbically witty song Manchild as a Bardcore duet. Inspired by the legend of Robin Hood of Loxley, our cover rebukes that infamous villain: King John (Lackland) of England. Whether or not he deserves his rotten reputation as “Bad King John” is a debate I leave to historians, but he is remembered as a cruel and tyrannical monarch whose heavy taxes and failed foreign wars angered the common people and barons alike. Following a baronial uprising in 1215, King John was forced to sign the Magna Carta, which established the principle that nobody, not even the king, is above the law. What you see and hear was made by real humans! Whitney and I wrote and sang the lyrics together, and I created the instrumental using a mixture of real and sampled instruments. Special thanks to my dad and brother, as well as the Friday gaming group of Merry Men who squeezed into my studio to record some whooping and hollering. Lastly, the art was pieced together and painted digitally by yours truly using various historical sources, such as the Livre de la Chasse (Book of the Hunt), written by Gaston Phébus. Lyrics: They say that while King Richard is away crusading John is here in England in his crown parading We might bend the knee, but we’d need some persuading We ought to find a word for him, commence the berating Crooked! Or be it rogue? Perhaps ‘tis tyrant! Nay I've a gentler term for it, I know Self-styled Look upon his works, ye mighty, despair ‘Tis a lie For a throne is more than merely a chair And a crown on a knave Never did a King make Self-styled Thy royalty is rented, Thou wert always meant as a spare Why so haughty yet so frail? Now all his jesters jape in jail Oh fetch this man some thicker mail We tire of this tale Reviled At least Arthur pulled a sword from a stone ‘Tis a lie That thy titles are all truly thine own Say thou’rt chosen by God But in sooth thou’rt a fraud Reviled Thou shalt scurry back to mother, The moment that thy brother is home Oh we pray to thee, Lord, thy mercies beseech He could freeze in the cold or drown on a beach Catch a bit of the plague whilst making a speech Amen, we preach Aye, we pray to thee, Lord, to broaden thy reach He might lose too much blood to an ambitious leech Who can say when he might bite a ripe poisoned peach? Amen, we preach False pride Thou art less a lion, more of a boar Despised Thy favorite sport is taxing the poor Oh, we pray to thee, Lord, thy mercies we beg He could meet a wild wolf who gnaws on his leg At a royal break-fast he could choke on an egg Amen! Amen!