Oh in the Tower of London large as life
The ghost of Anne Bo-leyn walks, they de-clare
For Anne Boleyn was once King Henry's wife
Un-til he had the axeman bob her hair
Oh yes, he done her wrong, long years a-go
And she comes back each night to tell him so

CHORUS:
With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the bloody tower
With her head tucked underneath her arm
At the mid-night hour

She's going to find King Henry, she's giving him what-for
Gad-zooks, she's going to tell him off for having spilled her gore
And just in case the axeman wants to give her an en-core
She's got her head tucked underneath her arm
A-long the drafty corridors for miles and miles she goes
She sometimes catches cold, poor thing, it's cold there when it blows
And it's awfully awkward for the queen when she has to blow her nose

BRIDGE:
Now sometimes old King Henry throws a spread
For all his pals and gals, the ghostly crew
The axeman carves the joints and cuts the bread
When in walks Anne Bo-leyn to spoil the "do" (OR: "queer")
She holds her head up with a wild war whoop
And Henry cries, Don't drop it in the soup

One day she found King Henry, he was in the castle bar
Are you Jane Seymour, Anne Bo-leyn or Katherine Parr
Now how the Hell (Sam Jerry?) am I to know just who you are
You got your head tucked underneath your arm

The sentries think that it's a football that she carries in
And when they see her, they all shout, Is Army going to win
For they think that it's Red Grange instead of poor old Anne Bo-leyn