With stern devotion tow’ring to the Skies.
Our youthful Hero now we introduce,
Deck’d off in Uniform, and fiercely spruce,
With Hat of Wellington, stuck fore, and aft,
And crimson sash tied carelessly abaft.
Black Stock, Reg’mental Sword, and natty Spurs—
Without the latter there’s no Hero stirs.
Spurs[3] to a gallant youth are things of course,
To make folks fancy he has got a Horse;
But as in this, opinions may divide,