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Saint
Laurence the heretic died On a grill, but before that he cried, "I am good and not bad. And let me just add, Flip me over; I'm done on this side." Kings Down the annals of History’s pages, Was a dastardly time, the Dark Ages, With a practice now mocked, But I say it rocked And ought to be brought back in stages. Of the Right of First Night I do sing! On the night that a bride got her ring, The King, not the groom, Took the bride to his room And gave her a right royal fling. Dee There once was a doctor named Dee Who examined Her Majesty's pee. It tasted so pleasant He sold it to peasants, Thus making a wee Royal Tea. Henry King Henry had queens numbered six. Each one had been promised her kicks And a life full of joy If the stork brought a boy. Such a pity, he brought mostly chicks. His first queen was Catherine of Aragon. Said Henry, "I want that chimera gone." So he broke with the church Leaving Cat in the lurch. The King was impiety’s paragon. His next queen was sweet Anne Boleyn. She loved him like sailors love sin. But he found a new port So, long story short: One princess… no princes… done-in. His third queen was Lady Jane Seymour. The King and she couldn’t agree more On how to have fun. She bore him one son, But perished before there could be more. Said Hank of his fourth, Anne of Cleves, "Tis a pity she never conceives, But I shan’t take her head." He divorced her, instead. 'Twas the rarest of royal reprieves. He next took to wife, Katherine Howard. She was plucky but soonly entowered. They lopped off her head For leaving Hank’s bed. Her lover just glowered, the coward. And finally, Katherine Parr Put Henry to rest in a jar. Or was it a box? No matter! The fox Lived longer than Henry by far. Edward Prince Edward was Henry’s male heir But to think he would rule was to err. For the monarch presumptive Was badly consumptive And died when he ran out of air. Essex Lord Essex, a horseman of rank, Would ride to the pub where he drank. Then he'd ride him a wench Right there on the bench. No wonder his pantaloons stank. Laww There once was a Lord Marshall Laww That wenches would wave to with awe. But once he had passed, The lawman got sassed For being too quick on the draw. Drake Her Majesty's Captain, Frank Drake, Was a smooth sailing, randy old rake. The maids cried 'avast' In awe of his mast; One swooned when she saw it was fake. |
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