Henry VIII (1491-1547) gained renown for two things. In matters falling under the crown, he achieved unification of church and state, and in matters falling (or perhaps rising) under the belt, separation of skull and spine. He serial-married six women: "divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived," as the mnemonic goes. Below, more or less, is their history.
Saw as the Hydra his every other mate.
Say "I do" to his face,
And there were two ways
Your per capita income could grow great.
King Henry he sought an alteration to home,
Made up his heart and wrote thus to Rome:
"Annul us, sir, for I ha' decyded my Queene didst lie wyth mine Fifteen-Year-old Brother after all. True, thou hadst Suffered me to wed her on Groundes that she Never did consummate her Union wyth the Wretche (may God bless his Soul in Heavene), but Surely that be an Error, sire, for Else wouldst she not Torment me these score Winters with nary a male Heire yet no End to babes stillborn, miscarryed, or Daughtery. Annul, annul. Mark'd have I a fresh Bride."
To which the pope replied,
"Have you tried transmitting the Y chromosome?"
Henry, happy ruler, espoused anew
A wit to pursue, a beauty to woo!
(The one time she carried,
She "It's a girl, I'm sorry"-ed.)
O he loved her to pieces! (Exactly two.)
Had his breeder only been shrewder,
She'd have laid him another Tudor.
But wholly unprovoked,
She up and croaked,
Leaving the widower a blubbery brooder.
Long before the days of Instagram
The way to a gent's electrocardiogram
Was a portrait; only, in person
The impression may worsen,
Perhaps even end an alliance program.
Upon discovering his partner's C. V.,
With two strokes of the pen Henry
Behead-
ed
His consort, and banned the word "spree".
Sage, ready queen, kept her head!
Smile on her lips, heart full of dread.
By and by the Eighth died,
Whence C. Parr duly cried,
And ensured his girls one day England led.