The joys of the earth while they last are our own;
Let us give them to her, to her hearth, to her throne.
Victoria, loved Queen! We proclaim thee again;
May the trust we repose ever sweeten thy reign!
Loud and deep are the cheers ’neath the old village oak;
The health, the long life of the Queen they invoke.
A fife at the lips and a drum all their band,
The villagers gladden the length of the land:
The bunting from gable to gable is swung,
The casements with flags and fond mottoes are hung.