Now, then, Sir, I'll trouble you to move on!
I sing, I sing, of the new bill, sir,
That to the people seems a pill, sir,
And shortly I'll relate its clauses,
That you may know what the police law is.
First and foremost, in a straight line running,
For fifteen miles it will stop your funning,
From Charing Cross, which ever way you turn, sir,
If you infringe, your fingers you'll burn, sir.