Dandies and poets and loungers here stroll about,
Dignified dowagers bask in Bath-chairs!
The Colonel.
Though cynics swear all pleasures fade,
And cry, O tempora mutantur!
The bonny laughing Light Brigade,
Still on the King's Road gaily canter!
And yet upon the Lawns and Pier,
Do lots of pleasant folk commingle:
While still the old, old song we hear—