Looks of despair the Fancy put on,
And determin’d to make a move to Sutton,
And thither hasten’d the fistic ranks,
With policemen hanging upon their flanks;
Then Captain Robbins, with gaze intense,
Cried, “Gentlemen, meaning no offence,
You mustn’t attempt, or I’m a liar,
To settle your matters in this here shire.”
Now suppose the Fancy, each peril pass’d,
As Crookham Common arriv’d at last,