The young Prince was set at the end of the room,
And instead of a sceptre he shouldered a broom,
His great uncle Ernest swore he could whack,
And he gave him in earnest a most devilish crack,
They all were as merry as grigs I declare,
Each one seem’d determin’d to drive away care,
One and all took a glass and drank with much joy,
Long life to the Prince, he’s a fine little boy.
