Wow! this is all great stuff. The Monster Mash words and a new verse to "the worms crawl in". Great, thanks all. Speaking of not quite folk, my Celtic group always throws these two in around this time of year: With Her Head Tucked Underneath Her Arm In the Tower of London large as life The ghost of Anne Boleyn walks, they declare. Poor Anne Boleyn was once King Henry's wife Until he made the headsman bob her hair Ah, yes he did her wrong long years ago And she comes up at night to tell him so With her head tucked underneath her arm She walks the bloody tower With her head tucked underneath her arm At the midnight hour She comes to haunt King Henry She means giving him what for Gadzooks! She's going to tell him off She's looking very sore; And just in case the headsman Wants to give her an encore She's got her head tucked underneath her arm. With her head tucked underneath her arm She walks the bloody tower With her head tucked underneath her arm At the midnight hour The sentries think it's a football And when they've had a few they shout, "Is Army going to win?" They think that it's Red Grange Instead of poor old Anne Boleyn, With her head tucked underneath her arm Sometimes gay King Henry gives a spread For all his pals and gals, a ghostly crew The headsman carves the joint and cuts the bread: Then in comes Anne Boleyn to queer the do, She holds her head up with a wild war whoop And Henry cries, "Don't drop it in the soup!" With her head tucked underneath her arm She walks the bloody tower With her head tucked underneath her arm At the midnight hour One night she caught King Henry, He was in the canteen bar. Said he, "Are you Jane Seymour, Anne Boleyn, or Catherine Parr? For how the sweet Sam Perryham do I know who you are, With your head tucked underneath your arm!" Thank you, Janet, for these words (and for teaching us all the rest too) And consider yourself well snookered before you sing this next one: Look At the Coffin Look at the coffin with golden handles Isn't it grand, boys, to be bloody well dead? Chorus: Let's not have a sniffle, let's all have a bloody good cry, And always remember the longer you live, the sooner you'll bloody well die. Look at the mourners, bloody great hypocrites, Isn't it grand ...... Look at the preacher, bloody sanctimonious, Isn't it grand ...... Sounds like this song could go on a lot longer than just these three verses. Judy
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