To putting on the Lord Mayor’s chain, and riding in his coach?
Seven bands will go with me to-morrow all the way,
And cavalry will me surround in all their grand array;
Whilst men-in-armour caracole and trumpets loudly blare,
For I’m to be new Lord Mayor, Betsy, I’m to be new Lord Mayor!
I lay awake the other night and thought of what was nigh,
And my new flunkeys’ liveries I saw in my mind’s eye;
The menu of my banquet, too, was present in my mind,
And up the terrace came a smell of turtle on the wind.
I thought it must be fancy, and I listen’d in my bed,