G.H. Goodwin
 Henry the eighth was a fun lovin' lad 
A regular joker was 'e,
He thought nowt of jousting a noble or two 
When they came up t'palace for tea.

This form of fun were all right for a bit 
But t'nobles were gettin' right sore, 
'It's all right for 'im' one of 'em said, 
But it's us that falls on the floor. '

'Wot we'll 'ave to do' said one of 'is mates,
'Is to find Henry summat to do,
Such as dominoes or tiddley winks or better still, 
Let's find 'im a lass 'e can woo. '

So they scouted about and finally found
A lass who Henry would like,
Anne Boleyn who they got, suited Henry so well 
'E were off every night on 'is bike.

'This is all very well, ' the courtiers said, 
'But 'e's neglectin' affairs of the realm, 
There's nowt else for it: 'e'll 'ave to wed t'lass 
Then we'll 'ave a queen at the 'elm. '

They told Henry this and 'e quite agreed 
That marriage was the best thing to do. 
Then up spoke a feller who then pointed out 
That Hal would 'ave not one wife but two.

Old Henry was mad at this thoughtless chap 
Who had foiled 'is plan for a mate,
'I'll 'ave 'is 'ead off' said Henry with spite, 
'Trust 'im to bring up Queen Kate.

Some years before, Henry 'ad wed
A lass from somewhere round Spain.
'E'd completely forgotten 'e was already 'itched 
And that Katie was still in the game.

'By gum, ' said Hal when 'e 'eard the bad news, 
'This is summat which I'll 'ave to cope. 
There's nowt else for it, she'll 'ave to go 
I'll 'ave a few words with the Pope. '

The Pope told 'im off, leavin' Henry quite blue, 
'E sulked for nearly a week,
'Til a feller named Cromwell spoke down 'is ear 
And said, 'Ignore 'im for 'is cheek,

'Just tell Queen Katie she's got to go,
If she says 'No', don't you fret.
Just let 'er see you sharpenin' the axe
She'll move fast enough then, you can bet. '

So Henry tried this artful plan, 
And Katie vacated the throne,
And divorced old Henry so that 'e could wed 
Ann Boleyn who was waitin' at 'ome.

It didn't last long this wedded bliss. 
Henry got fed up after a time. 
An' when you're a King like 'e was, 
You can cut off a wife in 'er prime.

Anne Boleyn was the kind of lass
Of whom it 'as often been said,
She thought she was as sharp as Henry's axe, 
But she let it go to 'er head. 
The end