(With Her Head Tucked Underneath Her Arm)
Additional Lyrics by Mat Greaves
In the tower of London, large as life,
The ghost of Anne Boleyn walks they declare.
Anne Boleyn was once King Henry’s wife
Until he had the headsman bob her hair.
Ah, yes, he did her wrong long years ago
And she comes back at night to tell him so,
With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the bloody tower,
With her head (What!?)
Underneath her arm
At the midnight hour.
She comes to haunt King Henry.
She means giving him what for.
Gadzooks! She’s going to tell him off.
For having spilled her gore,
And just in case the headsman
Wants to kill her in encore,
She’s got her head tucked underneath her arm.
Along the drafty corridors
For miles and miles she goes
She often catches cold, poor thing
It’s cold there when it blows. (achoo!)
It’s awfully awkward for the Queen
To have to blow her nose
With her head tucked underneath her arm.
Sometimes gay King Henry gives a spread (hmmm!)
For all his gals and pals and ghostly crew.
The headsman carves the joint and cuts the bread
Then in walks Anne Boleyn with much ado!
She holds her head up with a wild war whoop
Then Henry cries, “Don’t drop it in the soup!”
One night she caught King Henry,
he was in the canteen bar.
Said he, “Are you Jane Seymour, Anne Boleyn,
or Katherine Parr?
I’m such a typical English prick I don’t know who thou are
With thine head tucked underneath thine arm.
Surprised you don’t recall my face,
Surprised you could not tell,
Surprised you do not recognize,
I guess it’s just as well
A deathly bell now tolls for thee
I dance unto its knell
With my head tucked underneath my arm!
Anne Boleyn got her revenge
The story ends not sad
Henry’s ghost now haunts
A madhouse since she drove him mad
And Anne Boleyn agrees
Being dead it ain’t so bad
Despite the head tucked underneath her arm!
Songwriters: Bert Lee / E Harris Weston / R P Weston, Cyril Smith (1934)
Additional lyrics: Mat Greaves