Dressed in a red petticoat And grey damask gown Trimmed with fur She walked to the scaffold Recalling her king’s love Denying charges against her Thinking of her daughter She knelt upright and prayed The swordsman sliced her head From her thin neck But there was no coffin, no funeral No grieving husband’s tears A workman gathered her remains Placed them in an arrow chest And the queen was buried In an unmarked grave. Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII Jack Horne for Nette’s Soul Partners contest