I come from west of England;
That peninsula called Wales.
I’m stronger than a bunch of leeks;
In truth as hard as nails.

So I started up an army
To defeat that mad King Dickie,
As I heard he’d killed his nephews,
And was really rather tricky.

We met up in a cow field,
And we fought a bitter war.
I was claimed the victor,
While King Dickie hit the floor.

I stole a brilliant victory
From underneath their noses.
Bosworth was the winning post
In a war against white roses.

I began the Tudor dynasty,
Which was meant to pass to Arthur,
But then he went and died on me,
Which was a bit of a disaster.

So I was stuck with Henry,
Who was quite the mummy’s boy.
Still I hoped that he could do the job,
And not treat England as his toy.

But I’m a little disappointed
At how it finally ended;
With a Stuart sitting on the throne,
And my dynasty suspended.

My grandchildren were useless
At stocking up the Tudor larder.
You would have thought our Lizzie
Could have tried a little harder.

She took pride in being a virgin,
And being married to old England.
And while that’s very well and good,
An heir would’ve saved the Kingdom.

What’s the point of Bosworth,
And being hard as rock,
When my crown is sitting on the head,
Of a ginger headed Jock. 

I should have stayed in Cardiff,
And watched Wales take in the Scots,
But then again in Rugby,
We would probably have lost.

About The Author

Eddie Boverington

Edward “Eddie” Boverington is a freelance moustachioculturalist and professional cobbler, a student of history, and in his spare time composes medieval inspired poems and lute ballads in the 16th century style. He grew up in Clapham in the 1950s, where he still lives above his family’s shoe repair shop. Some of his moustache designs have won awards in prestigious international competitions, such as Le Concourse de Bacchantes et Moustaches de Francais. He can also polish, recondition and resole even the finest boots overnite for only £25.

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