| Our monarchs stand in sturdy line, | 
| A chain that history forges | 
| Of Edwards, Richards, Williams, | 
| Of Charleses, Jameses, Georges. | 
| Some were bluff and hearty, | 
| Some periwigged and prim – | 
| And then there’s Cromwell, | 
| But we don’t mention him! | 
| (That warty Lord Protector, | 
| We’d better not mention him) | 
| First of all we had those early kings | 
| With names that no-one can spell: | 
| Cerdic and Ceolwulf, | 
| Egbert and Athelstan, | 
| And Ethelbald as well. | 
| Who they were and what they did | 
| Is veiled in myth – | 
| Aethelred the Unredey | 
| And his mother Aelfthrith. | 
| Their behaviour was brutal, | 
| They were far from being saints. | 
| And with rats and lice and flies | 
| It will come as no surprise | 
| Many suffered from peculiar complaints – but… | 
| Great Alfred was our founder, | 
| With tresses long and flaxen, | 
| Proud and independent, | 
| Indubitably Saxon. | 
| In politics and fighting | 
| He had just what it takes, | 
| While drifting from the kitchen | 
| Came a smell of burning cakes. | 
| He lit the torch of freedom | 
| That none on earth could quench, | 
| Till William (The Bastard) | 
| Tried to make us speak in French: | 
| Those nasty knights from Normandy | 
| Came over babbling French. | 
| England was a fair field, | 
| A fair field full of folk: | 
| Counting the inhabitants | 
| Had got beyond a joke. | 
| There were farms, there were estates, | 
| There were smithies, there were mills, | 
| Swine in the orchards and sheep on the hills. | 
| William counted everything, | 
| From hall to inglenook: | 
| Ev’ry stable, shed or conservatory, | 
| They all went into a book. | 
| So when it came to taxes | 
| No-one was off the hook – | 
| It all went down in the Domesday Book! | 
| William’s son was Rufus, he had | 
| Red hair and a florid face, | 
| But he was not just florid, | 
| He was really rather horrid, | 
| His personal skills a disgrace. | 
| With his friends in the forest he hunted a lot | 
| Till he finally reached his penalty spot, | 
| And on that spot | 
| He was shot. | 
| Henry the First enjoyed his meals, | 
| But expired having eating too many eels. | 
| Henry the Second, he suffered no end | 
| For causing the death of Becket, his friend: | 
| Kneeling in the cathedral crypt | 
| He found it helped to be lightly whipped – | 
| Like a syllabub he was lightly whipped. | 
| King Stephen was almost | 
| Escorted from the premises | 
| By menacing Matilda, his arch-nemesis. | 
| His wife, it’s true, was a Matilda too. | 
| Being spied on either side | 
| By a Matilda meant | 
| Bewilderment! | 
| Richard the First was a warrior bold – | 
| The heart of a lion had he. | 
| A fearless crusader, yet skilled in minstrelsy. | 
| A captive in a foreign land, | 
| His singing set him free. | 
| Far from home, I languish | 
| In misery, and … anguish! | 
| His faithful minstrel heard him, | 
| “I know that voice!” | 
| cried he. | 
| He made a dash for a cashpoint, | 
| And Richard soon was free. | 
| But how can we know? | 
| We may never know what really occurred | 
| With Richard the Second and Richard the Third. | 
| You can never be sure. | 
| Richard the Fourth was a cunning hoax: | 
| Perkin Warbeck with one of his jokes! | 
| Some monarchs come in two parts, | 
| Like Shakespeare’s Henry Four, | 
| And some go forth like Hen. | 
| the Fifth | 
| En route to Agincourt: | 
| Our King went forth to Normandie | 
| With grace and might of Chivalrie! | 
| A milder mix was Henry Six, | 
| A seeker after knowledge: | 
| He built a certain chapel | 
| At a certain Cambridge College, | 
| Renowned for its musicians among other things: | 
| A famous band of minstrels started life at King’s. | 
| Magna Carta, bad King John, | 
| Edwards One, Two, Three, | 
| Murder, war and pestilence, | 
| Revolting peasantry! | 
| Scheming and ambitious, | 
| Split apart by feud or faction, | 
| But in their hearts they knew their parts: | 
| The warm-up act before the main attraction – | 
| The Tudors! | 
| Pastime with good companie – | 
| Oh how we love that Tudor dynasty! | 
| All their pastimes airing on TV, | 
| Their company is “Tudors PLC”. | 
| There’s love, of course, | 
| And serial divorce, | 
| And tons of jewellery: | 
| They’re now a brand, | 
| Preserved and canned, | 
| So buy the DVD! | 
| Tudors all were really Welsh | 
| With Celtic kith and kin. | 
| Stuarts all were bonny Scots, | 
| With a little bit of French thrown in. | 
| They drove out James the Second, | 
| (No-one liked him much) | 
| And wheeled in William of Orange | 
| Who turned out to be Dutch. | 
| Queen Anne was fond of drinking tea | 
| Which quite restored the British monarchy; | 
| But soon we had a shocking new experience: | 
| One hundred years of German Hanoverians! | 
| And here are the results in reverse order: | 
| A man of style was George the Fourth, | 
| But corpulent and lazy. | 
| George the Third said “What, what, what?” | 
| And went a little crazy. | 
| It seems that George the Second | 
| Immortality was seeking; | 
| May the King live for ever | 
| Amen, Allelujah, Amen. | 
| While George the First was “English-averse” | 
| And didn’t even want to BE King! | 
| William the Fourth was a naval man, | 
| With Nelson he worked hard to keep the peace. | 
| He hadn’t much to bring to the job, | 
| But he paved the way for his dutiful young niece. | 
| Victoria had everything: | 
| An army and a navy no foreign foe could crush, | 
| The mightiest of empires, and toilets that could flush. | 
| Postage stamps and railways, | 
| Christmas trees and garden gnomes, | 
| (Alfred, Lord) Tennyson and Dickens and Disraeli, | 
| D’Oyly Carte and Sherlock Holmes. | 
| As soon as his Mother vacated the throne | 
| Edward the Seventh lowered the tone. | 
| George the Fifth shunned glitz and glamour, | 
| But left his son with a bit of a stammer. | 
| Life grew ever darker and austerer | 
| Till the dawning of a new Elizabethan era | 
| So give three hearty cheers | 
| For they have mellowed with the years, | 
| Now they feel our pain and share our woe. | 
| They may be stalked by hacks, | 
| They’d have to pay the tax, | 
| And sit through the Royal Variety Show. | 
| Oh no! | 
| You may not see them on the bus, | 
| But they’re just a bit like us | 
| With their barbecues and TV soaps. | 
| They may no longer have the power | 
| To lock us in the Tower | 
| Or have interminable arguments with Popes. | 
| But… | 
| Our monarchs stand in sturdy line, | 
| A chain that history forges | 
| Of Edwards, Richards, Williams, | 
| Of Charleses, Jameses, Georges. | 
| So after one thousand years | 
| What will the future be? | 
| We couldn’t really comment. | 
| You’ll just have to wait and see! |