Youngest Of Widows

She found her homeland, she’s heir to the throne
She fought all her battles alone
1567, there’s a lord lying dead on frozen ground
Who did pull the wires in this plot?
Will the murderer ever be found?
Maybe she knows more than she pretends to know
About his passing
Who says a queen does never lie?
She found her homeland in chaos and war
The youngest of widows, a heart deeply sore
Raised far away, but heir to the throne
She fought all her battles alone
1587, winter’s grey, hatchets lay by scaffold’s side
Wears two rosaries, dressed in black she appears
Face veiled in white
Guilty for high treason, that’s the reason for the execution
Now by the hangman’s hand she’ll die