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Billed & cooed to keep alive Mar. 12, 2003 ] 8:37 PM It is strange to notice what you do remember. For example, I found this old poem I read when I was about eight on the internet by searching for "billed and cooed". I remembered only the stanza about Catherine Parr and had forgotten the rest. But perhaps there was something about that stanza that spoke volumes to my soul even when I was a child. Or I could just be really really pretentious and self-indulgent right now, and trying far to hard to impress. Whatever. Here's the poem. Bluff King Hal was full of beans He married half a dozen queens For three called Kate they cried the banns And one called Jane, and a couple of Annes. The first he asked to share his reign Was Kate of Aragon, straight from Spain But when his love for her was spent He got a divorce, and out she went. Anne Boleyn was his second wife. He swore to cherish her all his life, But seeing a third, he wished instead To cut off poor Anne Boleyn's head. He married the very next afternoon Jane Seymour, which was rather soon, But after one year as his bride She crept into her bed and died. Anne of Cleves was number four. Her portrait thrilled him to the core, But when he met her face to face Another royal divorce took place. Catherine Howard, number five, Billed and cooed to keep alive. But one day Henry felt depressed, The executioner did the rest. Sixth and last was Catherine Parr Sixth and last and luckiest far For this time it was Henry who Hopped the twig, and a good job too. What could be less self-indulgent would be to write about how this poem started me on every book about the Reformation, fiction and non-fiction and Elizabeth I. But I won't. Because I am spoilt and sulky and unhappy right now. So there. I refuse to write. I refuse to edit the entries I wrote in notepad and saved. I refuse. But I do remember (with a tinge of smugness) when at thirteen I asked to do my English project about King Henry VIII and the Reformation. It was rejected on the grounds that he was a big lecher, famous only for his wives, hardly a proper topic for a budding adolscent in an all girls' school. I ended up doing Elizabeth I. She wasn't all that sweet virgin-like you know. But the teacher wasn't going to quibble. A good female role model Elizabeth was, because she was a Queen. Never mind the rumours about the affair between her stepfather and her. We will just ignore that unsavoury part shall we? No wonder my teachers either hated me or just indulged me in a slightly awed way, or puzzlement. I got puzzlement too. Oh wait, that was my ego speaking again. But of course I am telling you something you already know. wax ] wane