ANN BOLEYN
(learned in about 1956; written in 1930s by R.L.Weston and Bert Lee)
Now in the Tower of London, large as life, large as life,
The ghost of Ann Boleyn walks, I declare.
Now, Ann Boleyn was once King 'enry's wife, 'enry's wife,
Until he 'ad the 'eadsman bob her hair.
Oh, yes, he did her wrong long years ago,
And often she comes back to tell him so, woe, woe,
With her 'ead tucked underneath 'er arm
She walks the bloody Tower;
With her 'ead tucked underneath 'er arm
At the midnight hour;
Along the dusty corridors for miles and miles she goes,
She often catches cold, poor thing, it's cold there when it blows,
And it's awfully awkward for the Queen to have to blow her nose,
With her 'ead tucked underneath 'er arm.
Now often gay King 'enry gives a spread, gives a spread,
To all 'is gals and pals, a ghostly crew.
The 'eadsman cuts the joint and serves the bread, serves the bread,
When in comes good Queen Ann to queer the dew.
She brings her head in with a wild war whoop,
And 'enry cries, Don't drop it in the soup!, bloop, bloop,
With her 'ead tucked underneath 'er arm
She walks the bloody Tower;
With her 'ead tucked underneath 'er arm
At the midnight hour;
The sentries think that it's a football that she carries in,
And when they've 'ad a few, they cry, Is Arsenal going to win?
They think that it's Red Grange instead of poor old Ann Boleyn,
With her 'ead tucked underneath 'er arm.
(from miriam berg's folksong collection)