Dear Anne Boleyn and Mary, Queen of Scots,
Please share with me a few of your thoughts
As you sat in the tower, patiently waiting
For your public decapitating?
Were there hopes of reprieve,
With no ace up your sleeve?
Could you hear the crowd gather
In the square, in a lather
To see royal blood
Run the streets with the mud?
I know I’m not headed
For the true fate you dreaded.
There will be no big chop
And my head will not drop.
My circumstance is unlike
My head put on a spike
Displayed as a warning
That one should be conforming
To the change of King’s law or a half-sister’s fears
That if you stayed around you would so interfere
With the King’s latest love or sister’s suspicions
And if you were gone, there’d be no more derisions.