First, William the Norman lays claim to the crown

And retains it till death; then follows his son

The red headed William, whose life is cut short

By a shot from his friend, when hunting for sport.

Then Henry his brother takes quiet possession,

As Henry the first, of the great English nation.

Next Stephen, a kinsman gets the crown by his might,

But no one pretends to say he had a right.

Then comes Hal the second, who cuts a great figure

With Becket, fair Rosamond and Queen Eliner.

The Lion-hearted Richard, first of that name,

Succeeded his father in power and in fame;

He joined the Crusade to a far distant land

But his life was cut short by a murderous hand.

Next comes the cruel and cowardly John,

From whose hand, reluctant, Magna Charta was won.

Then his son Henry third, deny it who can?

Though unfit for a King, was yet a good man,

And his reign though a long one of fifty-six years

Was full of perplexities, sorrows, and fears.

His son Edward first next governs the nation,

Much respected and feared, in holding that station.

The Principality of Wales was annexed in his reign,

And his son Edward second, first Prince of that name.

But what shall I say of King Edward the third,

The most remarkable reign, that yet had occurred;

Fire arms in the war, were first used in his reign,

And the battle of Cressy of great note and fame,

To their introduction has the right to lay claim.

The knights of the Garter, first made in his reign

In honor it seems of a fair English dame,

The Duchess of Salisbury to whom it is said,

From Edward peculiar attentions were paid.

Of Richard the second we have little to say,

And take up the fourth Henry, the next on our way,

Who reigned fourteen years, when death cut him down

And left his good Kingdom to Henry his son;

But ere nine years had past, the fifth Henry was borne

To the region of darkness from whence none return.

The next reign is full of commotion and strife,

And Henry the sixth is seen flying for life;

For though King of England, we cannot but see

He’s but the shadow of a king—that should be;

And during the thirty-nine years that he reigned

His crown and his sceptre were feebly retained.

It was in this reign on her mission intent,

That Joan of Arc to the battle field went:

The French troops were elated, the English dismayed

At the wonderful victories achieved by her aid;

At length fortune turns, and ’tis needless to tell

Of the fate of this maiden—it is all known too well.

Of Edward the fourth it seems proper to say

That he fancied Dame Shore, when wed to Bess Gray.

But the fate of Jane Shore, should be warning to all

Who from love, or ambition, are tempted to fall.

When Edward the fourth departed this earth,

He left two little sons, both Royal by birth;

But ere three years had pass’d, both met with their doom,

By a most cruel uncle, cut down in their bloom

Of youth, love, and beauty, and laid in the tomb.

King Edward the fifth was the eldest one’s name,

Though never permitted by his uncle to reign.

Next comes cruel Richard, the third of that name,

Whose vices surpassing put others to shame.

When unhorsed in battle, he’s so anxious to live,

That he cries “for a horse, my kingdom I’ll give.”

But in the same battle he had his last fall—

Lamented by none, but detested by all.

In the next reign the wars of the roses, all ended,

And the red rose and white, forever were blended;

For when Henry the seventh took Bessy his bride,

The knot of the roses forever was tied;

And when the sceptre descended from father to son,

The red and the white leaves all mingled in one.

King Henry the eighth had quite a long reign

Mixed up with his Anne’s, his Katy’s and Jane.

But from this King we turn with disgust and with shame,

And greet with delight, the sixth Edward by name.

But only six years did this King fill the throne,

When called to resign it and lay his crown down.

A worthier we think, has never set

On the throne of Great Britain—at least not as yet.

With pleasure we love to contemplate him now,

With a bright crown of Glory, encircling his brow,

In the region of light, love, peace, and of joy,

Where pleasures eternal can have no alloy.

Sin, sickness, and death, never find entrance there,

For the air is all balm, and the skies ever fair;

The clouds of his young life have all passed away

And he enjoys the full light of an endless day—

For all who find footing on that peaceful shore,

Shall hunger, and thirst, and sorrow no more.

But once more we return to this “dim speck of earth,”

And revisit the clime that gave Edward his birth.

Bloody Mary his sister, next mounted the throne,

But when five years had pass’d, was obliged to lay down,

Notwithstanding reluctance, her Sceptre and Crown.

For death to whom she had sent many a one,

Now called for his victim, and made her his own.