Gen.—Chiswickians, aged, and renowned in fight,
Join with the Hammersmith brigade.
Lieut.-Gen.— You’ll find my Mortlake boys will do them right,
Unless by Fulham numbers over-laid.
Gen.—Let the left wing of Twick’n’am foot advance,
And line that eastern hedge.
Lieut.-Gen.— The horse I raised in Petty France
Shall try their chance,
And scour the meadows, overgrown with sedge.
Gen.—Stand: give the word.