I.
I will sing in the Praise, if you'll lend but an Ear,
Of the first Royal Regiment, but don't think I jeer
If I vow and protest they are as brave Men and Willing,
As ever old Rome bred, or new Iniskilling.
II.
Oh, had you but seen them March with that Decorum
That no Roman Triumph could e're go before 'em,
Some smoking, some whistling, all meaning no harm,
Like Yorkshire Attornies coming up to a Term,
III.
On Bobtails, on Longtails, on Trotters, on Pacers,
On Pads, Hawkers, Hunters, on Higlers, on Racers,
You'd ha' swore Knight and Squires, Prigs, Cuckolds, and Pandors.
Appear'd all like so many great Alexanders,
IV.
Whose Warriers who thorow all Dangers durst go.
Most bravely despising Blood, Battle, and Foe,
Were mounted on Steeds the last Lord Mayor's Day,
From Turky, Spain, Barbary, Coach, Cart, and Dray.
V.
'Twas that very day their high Prowess was shown,
In guarding the King thro' the Fire-works o' th' Town;
Tho' Sparks were unhors'd and their lac'd Coats were spoil'd,
They dreaded no Squibs of Men, Women, or Child.
VI.
The Cornet whose nose, though it spoke him no Roman,
Was mounted that day on a Horse that feared no man,
No Wounds, for all o're his Trappings so sumptuous
He had ty'd Squibs and Crackers; 'twas mighty presumptuous.
VII.
For note his Design; faith, 'tis worth your admiring:
'Twas to let the Queen se how his Horse could stand firing,
Not wisely consid'ring her Majesty's marry'd,
And he had been hang'd if the Queen had miscarry'd.