She put him to the rout,
She wopp’d him all round Windsor park,
And cured him of the gout.
The next it was a leg of Lamb,
He thought to make things right,
Says the Queen, my lord, it’s very fine,
But you don’t lodge here to-night.
The next man was from Bedford,
A little chap that’s never still,
You don’t lodge here to-night says she,