Henry, once said,
‘I’d be better off dead!’
to his wife, when Catherine asked him the date.
with a victory or two,
and Henry six all too ready to rule,
Henry gave up the ghost,
from the place he loved most;
and soon he was lying in state.
He had ruled for a while,
was buriéd, in the Abbey, in style;
and was our most heroic king – that’s no boast.
Shakespeare wrote him a play,
which is still acted today,
where he defeated the foe with such flair;
for when Prince Hal when a lad,
he’d had sore words with his dad,
but he was better by far to compare.
His reign though ‘twas short,
and his son’s future reign fraught;
when he to history brought
savoir faire, with a little je ne sais quoi to spare.
Now, when we look back,
we regard his attack
as a thing of pastimes,
way back then;
but, to this kingliest of men
we must still make our rhymes,
for who knows if we’ll see his like
ever again –
do ‘we’ live in such interesting times?