In the Tower of London large as lifeThe Ghost of Anne Boleyn walks, they declarePoor Anne Boleyn was once King Henry’s wifeUntil he made the headsman bob her hair!Ah, yes, he did her wrong, long years agoAnd she comes up at night to tell him so!
With her head tucked underneath her armShe walks the Bloody TowerWith her head tucked underneath her armAt the midnight hourShe comes to haunt King HenryShe means giving him ‘what for’Gadzooks! She’s going to tell him offFor having spilt her goreAnd, just in case the headsmanWants to give her an encoreShe has her head tucked underneath her arm
With her head tucked underneath her armShe walks the Bloody TowerWith her head tucked underneath her armAt the midnight hourAlong the drafty corridorsFor miles and miles she goesShe often catches cold, poor thingIt’s cold there when it blowsAnd it’s awfully awkward for the QueenTo have to blow her noseWith her head tucked underneath her arm
Sometimes gay King Henry gives a spreadFor all his gals and pals, a ghostly crewThe headsman carves the joint and cuts the breadThen in comes Anne Boleyn to ‘queer the do’!She holds her head up with a wild war whoopAnd Henry cries, “Don’t drop it in the soup!”
With her head tucked underneath her armShe walks the Bloody TowerWith her head tucked underneath her armAt the midnight hourThe sentries think that it’s a footballThat she carries inAnd when they’ve had a few they shout‘Is Ars’nal going to win?’They think it’s Alec JamesInstead of poor old Ann BoleynWith her head tucked underneath her arm!
In the Tower of London large as lifeThe Ghost of Anne Boleyn walks, they declarePoor Anne Boleyn was once King Henry’s wifeUntil he made the headsman bob her hair!Ah, yes, he did her wrong, long years agoAnd she comes up at night to tell him so!
With her head tucked underneath her armShe walks the Bloody TowerWith her head tucked underneath her armAt the midnight hourShe comes to haunt King HenryShe means giving him ‘what for’Gadzooks! She’s going to tell him offFor having spilt her goreAnd, just in case the headsmanWants to give her an encoreShe has her head tucked underneath her arm
With her head tucked underneath her armShe walks the Bloody TowerWith her head tucked underneath her armAt the midnight hourAlong the drafty corridorsFor miles and miles she goesShe often catches cold, poor thingIt’s cold there when it blowsAnd it’s awfully awkward for the QueenTo have to blow her noseWith her head tucked underneath her arm
Sometimes gay King Henry gives a spreadFor all his gals and pals, a ghostly crewThe headsman carves the joint and cuts the breadThen in comes Anne Boleyn to ‘queer the do’!She holds her head up with a wild war whoopAnd Henry cries, “Don’t drop it in the soup!”
With her head tucked underneath her armShe walks the Bloody TowerWith her head tucked underneath her armAt the midnight hourThe sentries think that it’s a footballThat she carries inAnd when they’ve had a few they shout‘Is Ars’nal going to win?’They think it’s Alec JamesInstead of poor old Ann BoleynWith her head tucked underneath her arm!