The north-east cold over land and sea
Is whistling a sharp, shrill melody;
But the sun is up, and the morning bright,
So hasten, brave boys, to the field of fight.
This day will decide whether Caunt or Nick
In the shape of conquest shall do the trick—
This day shall to Fancy lads declare
Which hero the Champion’s belt shall wear—
Whether Ben, the athletic, of giant limb,
Shall yield to young Ward, or Nick to him,