Their prime delight’s to see the sights that ornament our square, ma’am!
When Powell brings his spangled troop to Barnstaple Fair, ma’am!
Then sing of Barum, merry town, and our indulgent Mayor too,
I know no place in all the world old Barum to compare to!
If milk be scarce though grass be plenty, don’t complain too soon, dame!
For that will very often happen in the month of June, dame!
Though cows run dry while grass runs high, you never need despair, dame!
The cows will calve, and milk you’ll have, to Barnstaple Fair, dame!
Then sing of Barum, wealthy town, and its productive Fair too,
And drink “the corporation, and the head of it, the Mayor too.”