No Man’s Pie is Freed from his Ambitious Finger
The Tudors – always the bloody Tudors !
I’m sick of the Tudors, sick of their tricks –
Bloody Marys and bloody Henrys,
And bloody Bess and her politics,
And wimpy Eddy, and snow-white Jane –
Tudors bloody Tudors – since I was six.
Papists in priestholes, Proddies in the Tower
And the heroes end up dead and the villains stay in power.
Ev’ryone’s a bastard,
Anyone who’s Tudor –
Henry’s shagging ev’ryone,
But Bess, no-one has screwed her.
Both have shafted England,
Made the whole place prude-er.
The Tudors: bloody Tyndale and Shakespeare,
The bloody Armada and Raleigh and Drake,
The bloody plots and the bloody spies,
And witches burned at the bloody stake,
And Irish, Jews and Gypsies shunned –
Nasty bloody Tudors – more than I can take !
Monks changing habits and monarchs swapping spouses –
A-ring-a-ring of roses and a plague on all their houses !
Ev’ryone’s a bastard,
Ev’ryone’s a bluff:
Ev’ryone in sackcloth,
Or codpiece, hose and ruff.
Who will spare our England,
Who will cry “Enough !” ?
