242 – The Queen’s Head

Poem number 242
The Queen’s Head
Anne Boleyn was beautiful
Or so the fellas said
But that didn’t stop King Henry
Chopping off her pretty head.
Her head rolled off the platform
And a lady from the town
Scooped it up and hid it
Underneath her ample gown
She took it home and cooked it
In a treasured pot of clay
And served it to her children
For their dinner that same day
“Mummy,” said her youngest
“Are we eating Anne Boleyn?”
“Yes my dear, with turnip mash”
Said Mummy, “So dig in!”
And thus it was that Anne Boleyn
That beauty of her time
Ended up being eaten
When just scarcely past her prime
So let that be a lesson, girls
Be faithful! Never cheat!
‘Cause your King is always watching
And you might end up as meat!


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