Henry
Alan Pring
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The eighth king called King Henry He's the one that built a fleet But Henry didn't suppose that Right beneath his nose, his nose Tipping, slipping underneath the waves Was the best of his shipping The fabulous Mary Rose There she goes There she goes Henry Tudor, chubby, chubby Not the very kindest hubby So like the poor Sir Thomas Moore Like him they are no more And their necks are feeling very, very sore A son and heir, that was the thing To please that rather grumpy king Six times, it's said, he wed a maid Oh, will they make the grade, the grade? Two of them, they didn't make the grade And they felt the blade, King Henry's horrid blade There it goes There it goes Henry Tudor, chubby, chubby Not the very kindest hubby So like the poor Sir Thomas Moore Like him they are no more And their necks are feeling very, very sore Henry, Henry, Henry Tudor Henry, Henry, rather grumpy king
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Written by: Alan Pring, Tony Doye
Lyrics © Music Box Publications
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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"Henry Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 9 May 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric-lf/1786206/Alan+Pring/Henry>.
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