Anne Boleyn in Mystic Pizza

Isn't this fun?!?

Making delectable pizza
Rather than marrying a fat tyrant
Who will inevitably murder me?

I highly prefer this present set of circumstances
Even though my hands smell like sausage
And there's anchovies stuck to my corset

Oh no, I simply must wear the corset!
Otherwise I may be mistaken for that trollop
With the red hair

A sure sign that she's the devil's minion

Of course that wealthy gentleman doesn't want to marry her
Most likely he saw the movie where she played a streetwalker
And with or without a heart of gold
She's still a diseased harlot

No civilized gentleman would even look at her
Aside from some guilt-ridden frottage
During which she'd inevitably have a hangman's hood
Thrown over her face
And afterwards he'd probably just leave her in the hogger's trough

Oh, and those other girls are just homely
That JoJo looks like a baked potato
That's starred in too many independent films

I can't believe anybody would actually foodstuff
From the likes of you wenches
From now on let me do all the marketing
Anne Boleyn's Mystic Pizza has a nice ring to it

And while I'm fixing things up
Maybe we could think about adding some more contemporary dishes
To the menu

Boiled goat's liver, perhaps?
Or pickled pigeon feet?

Henry did love pigeons

When he wasn't teaching them to dance
Or nailing those little hats on
He'd be biting the legs right off them

Sort of like a mid-afternoon snack

God, I miss that man sometimes

He smelled like no other man I've ever met
Oh sure, you pass out the first few times he makes love to you
But after that, you sort of get used to it
It's...comforting

That's what you girls need to find
Comfort
And a man who might kill you at any moment

That's what gives life--and pizza
That extra little bit of spice

Now, shuck off your whoring attire
And go put on these uniforms I bought for you

You have to make sure the corset is tied tight enough
So that you constantly feel as if
You're on the verge of passing out

Now, another--

Girls, what are you doing with that machete?

My goodness, it shines just like the guillotine did
Right before they put the hood over my--

Oh dear

I suppose fate is rearing it's ugly head once again

Well, at least let me finish my pizza first

Even while carrying the heavy burden
Of being my last meal

It's utterly delicious