What wretchedness
‘Tis to be born
the wrong sex
‘Specially, so if one’s royalty

and that’s what befell
Queen Mary of Scotland
just a wee lass
crowned at six months old

harried over the border
to her betrothed Francis
petted and pampered
beautiful Queen of France.

Though the fates would deny
this union of happy accord
Queen of France no more
Returning to Scotland

in black widow mourning
Never a Queen so beset
with dissension and rebellion
even she the heretic Queen

in Knox’s Protestant Isles
such foul deeds perpetrated
Locked away in Loch Leven Castle
Dethroned and abandoned

yet faith never floundered
Wild escapes and battles not fought
There Mary of Scotland
Fell into England’s snare.

Though fair Elizabeth Tudor
dissembled at best
Not able to bring about
her own cousin’s death.

To spill royal blood set
roughly on her regal shoulders
but plotters will plot
and prisoners are always wont

to break free of their cells
No matter how prettily kept
There the warrant was signed,
Elizabeth Regina of England.

So Scotland’s Queen lost her head
On this day, the 8th of February, 1587
dressed in Catholic martyr crimson
calm and assured in her heavenly home.