I’m Anne and George’s sister,
And I’m Thomas Boleyn’s daughter.
I consider myself lucky
To have survived the family slaughter.
I’m Henry’s sexual reject,
And I have two kids, no less.
But who’s the children’s father
Is anybody’s guess.
My husband died of sickness,
And was eventually replaced
By a man who got me pregnant,
Ensuring maximum disgrace.
I was banished from society
To a rural county idyll.
The remaining story of my life
Is something of a riddle.
But I’ve now been reinvented
To be viewed as captivating.
And although I’ve never done a thing
I’m seen as fascinating.
Upon your average postage stamp
My achievements could be written,
But since a certain fiction book
I could be brain of Britain.
So I’ll wallow in bewildering fame;
I don’t mean to be big headed,
But one thing I can say for sure,
Better that than being beheaded!
