It’s the last dying speech of the Lord Mayor’s Show.
At half-past eleven, by the word of command,
From Guildhall will tumble a big German Band;
With mounted police,—to you it is plain—
On their hats stuck a lamp with a portrait of Mayne
Old Alderman Gobble with a large Chinese gong,
Six girls with six shoelacks stuck on their chignons
They set backside before, and so on you will find,
And for reins hold the ribbons that hang down behind.
There’s the old Lord Mayor stuck on a blind horse