As he dashes proudly by!
And there’s not a gentle heart of all—
Let weal or woe betide—
That would not leap with dear delight
To be his happy bride.
“The day goes down on Hounslow-heath,
The night wind sighs amain;
Hurrah! Hurrah, for the road!
For now begins his reign.
Heighho! How the ladies cry,