So 'Enry an' Catherine of Aragon wed,
An' started 'is quest for a son,
But daughters were all she could manage poor lass,
Though 'Enry thought tryin' were fun.

After six failed attempts t'give 'Enry an 'eir,
An' wi' only young Mary to show.
'Enry pulled 'is Lord Chancellor o'er to one side,
sayin', "Wolsey, she's bahn have to go!"

Wolsey's job were to send t'Pope a letter
And ask for a quickie divorce,
If answer received weren't to 'Enrys taste,
He'd find hissel, cut off at source.

Well the word he got back, it were just as he feared.
It said, "NO", an' were signed an' were dated.
P.S. at t'bottom in bright scarlet ink read,
"Try and, you're ex-com..uni-cated!"

So Wolsey set off to see 'Enry 'tout suite',
Up to 'ampton the bad news to tell.
"'Is 'oliness writes that he'll grant no divorce"
Aitch says, "Sod 'im, I'll do it mi'sel!"

Now Wolsey 'ad never sin 'Enry so mad,
Now t'Pope 'ad disputed 'is power.
  "I'm bahnd to be rid o' that Aragon wench,
An' Wolsey lad you're bahnd for t'tower.

So Wolsey were out an' a new mon were in,
A chap who were named Thomas More.
"If you don't shape better than t'last one" said Aitch,
"You'll be pickin' your 'ead up off t'floor!"

As 'enry decided to go C. of E.,
It meant th'end o' line for poor Cath.
An' as More were still muth'rin 'baht "papal consent"
He an'all, would feel 'enerys wrath.

Part II.

Well feelin' as free 'as he 'ad for some time,
An' absolvin' hissel of 'is sin.
'Enry 'ad a quick glance 'round all t'totty at court,
An' a lass took 'is eye named Boleyn.

So 'Enry took Mistress Boleyn for his bride,
And her pregnancy soon came to pass,
But the bets that were layed on 'er dropping an 'eir,
All went down when she mothered a lass.

"It's a daughter sire" whispered the midwife,
"Wi' lovely pale skin an' red 'air"
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