A bigger bite of genealogy

I am the son of Blanche Haddix Landrum
She was the daughter of Arthur Haddix
He was the son of Orlena Deaton
She was the daughter of Alexander Deaton
He was the son of Malinda Watts
She was the daughter of Emily "Polly" Noble
She was the daughter of George Noble, Jr
He was the son of Mary Ann Thomas Alexander
She was the daughter of Garrard Alexander
He was the son of Ann Fowke
She was the daughter of Gerard Fowke Jr.
He was the son of Col. Gerard Fowke Sr.
He was the son of Roger Fowke
He was the son of Dorothy Cupper
She was the daughter of Audrey Peto
She was the daughter of John Peto
He was the son of Edward Peto
He was the son of John de Peto
He was the son of Katherine Gresley
She was the daughter of Elizabeth Clarell
She was the daughter of Elizabeth Le Scrope
She was the daughter of Elizabeth Strathbogie
She was the daughter of Elizabeth de Ferrers
She was the daughter of Isabel de Verdon
She was the daughter of Lady Elizabeth de Clare
She was the daughter of Joan "of Acre" Plantagenet
She was the daughter of King Edward I (Plantagenet)
He was the son of King Henry III (Plantagenet)
He was the son of King John (Plantagenet)
(the one forced to sign the Magna Carta!)
And King John was the son of Eleanor of Aquitane
and King Henry II (Plantagenet)
Eleanor was the daughter of William X (Duke of Aquitane)
He was the son of William IX, Duke of Aquitane
He was the son of William VIII, Duke of Aquitane
He was the son of William V, Duke of Aquitane
He was the son of William IV,"Ironman", Duke of Aquitane
He was the son of William III, Count of Poitou, born 915
He was the son of Manzer, Count of Poitou, died 934
He was the son of Ramnulf II of Poitou
He was the son of Ramnulf I, Count of Poitou
And he was the son of Gerard, Count of Auvergne, born in 820.

And that makes this Gerard my 38th great grandparent!
And Eleanor of Aquitane is my 28th great grandmother!

Eleanor's grandfather, William IX of Aquitane was also one
of the first and foremost Troubadors of the Middle Ages. The
following is one of his original compositions:

Under the sun I ride along
And tell this story, in a song:
Ladies there are who do great wrong!
I mean such dames
As turn a cruel and heedless ear
To lovers claims....

So hear me: Silent, and discreet,
Through our Auvergne, mild and sweet,
I rode, and happened there to meet
Sir Guarin's Dame
And Bernard's too; they spoke me fair
And asked my name.

"God save you, Pilgrim, as you fare!"
Thus cried one of the comely pair
"Gentle you seem, and debonair!
(if I may judge!)
Though many Vagabonds and Rogues
Our highways trudge!"

Now, mark the style of my reply:
I spoke no truth...I told no lie
But answered only, with a sigh
(I had my plan...)
"Barbariol, barbariol,
Barbarian!"

Then said Dame Ermesses in glee
To Lady Agnes: "Mute is he!
Let's take him home, and lodge him free!
When we're alone
Such sport as we'll devise with him
Shall ne'er be known!"

So then one cast her mantle o'er
My back, and through her chamber door
Led me... And I could ask no more!
A cozy fire
Burned in the hearth; a man had all
He might desire!

A lordly meal they did prepare
And two fat capons were my share
All hotly spiced; the wine was rare
And all for me!
No steward served, no cook was there
But just us three...

"Sister, this fellow is too shy
To say a word while we stand by!
Lest he be scheming on the sly
Let our cat come!
I'll warrant we shall straightway
If he be dumb!

So Agnes went to fetch the cat
Ne'er have I seen a beast like that!
I fell to trembling where I sat
And with good cause!
Long-whiskered was he, big and fierce
With cruel claws!

Those prudent ladies first undressed
Their mute and unsuspecting guest
Then on his back the cat they pressed!
Keen could I feel
Its' talons ripping down my flank
From haunch to heel!

As Agnes dragged it by the tail
My body's length, I felt each nail,
And with the anguish I turned pale
Yet stood all meek;
By God they could have flayed me there
Ere I would speak!

"Sister," I heard Dame Agnes say,
"He's mute indeed! I think we may
Prepare ourselves for sport and pray
Draw the bath hot!"
More than a week I spent with them
Such was my lot.

Now, hear the tally I'll relate:
A hundred fourscore times, and eight
I laid them ... and a woeful state
They left me in.
With harness torn and broken blade
Aye, t'was a sin!

Good squire ... if I feel no worse
Tomorrow, take this little verse
To those fair ladies, with my purse
And, tit for tat,
Ask them, in memory of me,
TO KILL THAT CAT!