The kings and queens of England, with other poems

TO THE COMPANION OF HER YOUTH, MIDDLE AGE, AND DECLINING YEARS, THE FOLLOWING POEMS ARE INSCRIBED BY HIS AFFECTIONATE WIFE,
MARY ANN H.T. BIGELOW.
I must claim the indulgence of my friends for the many defects they will find in my poems, which they will please wink at, remembering that I was sixty years old when I commenced rhyming; and this by way of experiment, while on a visit to my daughter, in Brooklyn.
My first essay, was The Monarchs of England. I took it up for my amusement, wishing to ascertain how much of that history I could recollect without help from any other source than memory.
The rhyme is in many places far from smooth, and there are many redundances that might with advantage be lopped off; and were it to come under the critic’s eye to be reviewed, I should feel it quite necessary to improve it, (the poetry, I mean.) But as it would require quite too much exertion for my eyes in their present state, and as the history, dates, &c., I believe, are correct, I send it to the press “with all its imperfections on its head.”
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,