Henry was an athlete king,
Crowned with gold upon his head,
Never lacking anything,
Wealth nor wives to grace his bed.
England shook at his command:
Even at his whim they must
Do the bidding of his hand...
But now he's sleeping in the dust.
Gone is all his royal pride
And his great pomposity.
Look--A spout sprouts from his side,
And he waits to serve us tea.
The crown has fallen from our head;
woe to us, for we have sinned!