On Bosworth Field – (GRS – 22-08-1994)
On Bosworth Field the battle raged,
But treason took an active hand;
William Stanley waded in – the battle gauged –
While fleeing Percy reached his land.
Richard, the king, had lost his friend,
For, ‘Jockey of Norfolk’ was dead.
“Treason”, he cried, as he visioned the end,
“A horse, for my kingdom!”, he said.
Richard was lost, and fell at last,
While bravely fighting the man,
One Henry Tudor, who stood so fast
And watched as ‘his’ reign began.
Richard The Third Interred – (GRS – 12-09-2012)
A thought recently occured
about Richard the Third;
About where he’s interred:
and we have a vocation
to find that location…
location… location the third.
Hark, hark the dogs do bark,
Our King Dickie’s having a lark
hiding all this time under a car park
in the city of Leicester,
where his body did fester
so we went to invester… gate
and his bones were still laying about,
but, in a bit of a state
we’ll study them, analyse them, see if its him:
we can have no doubt,
see if there’s any way
that they match with Queen Lizzie’s DNA,
And then we can say
Now is the day,
Richard the Third came out to play!
Sadly, Richard, King, underground, spent,
Just missed our glorious summer
but won’t have to spend the winter
beneath this cement
Richard The Third Re-interred – (28-03-2015)
Now Richard the Third is at rest
In Leicester, again;
Interred in the cathedral, entombed;
And many thousands turned out
To pay their respects
For the last English king, in battle fallen; doomed
To be reviled by the Tudors
And a play by Will the Bard.
But, still, after times hard, he has recovered
Somewhat of his fame
And wiped off much of the mud
That was slung at his name.
Rest in Peace, our Dicken of york,
Last Plantagenet king,
And try toremember, of course, of course,
That it is not the play for the kingdom
That is the ultimate thing.