With Her Head Tucked Underneath Her Arm

In the Tower of London large as life
The Ghost of Anne Boleyn walks, they declare
Poor Anne Boleyn was once King Henry's wife
Until he made the headsman bob her hair!
Ah, yes, he did her wrong, long years ago
And she comes up at night to tell him so!

With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the Bloody Tower
With her head tucked 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 spilt her gore
And, just in case the headsman
Wants to give her an encore
She has her head tucked underneath her arm

Sometimes gay King Henry gives a spread
For all his gals and pals, a ghostly crew
The headsman carves the joint and cuts the bread
Then in comes Anne Boleyn to queer the do!
She holds her head up with a wild war whoop
And Henry cries: Don't drop it in the soup!

With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the Bloody Tower
With her head tucked underneath her arm
At the midnight hour
The sentries think that it's a football
That she carries in
And when they've had a few they shout
Is Ars'nal going to win?
They think it's Alec James
Instead of poor old Ann Boleyn
With 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
And it's awfully awkward for the Queen
To have to blow her nose
With her head tucked underneath her arm