Such a Regent as ours, so débonnaire.
Tra-la-la—tra-la-la—such a mien, such an air!
Oh, yes! our Regent is débonnaire.
“A monarch of France, when they bring him to dine,
They must hand him a cloth, and a golden bowl;
But the Regent can call for a flagon of wine,
And need never sit down till he’s emptied the whole.
He wouldn’t give much for your dry-lipped fare,
This Regent of ours, so débonnaire.
Tra-la-la—tra-la-la—how he’ll stagger and swear,