My new kid slippers, too, are thin, although they look so sweet,
And dancing on the dewy grass, I know will wet my feet;
But I’m to be Queen of the May, mother, I’m to be Queen of the May,
So make the mustard plasters hot to fight Pneumon-i-a.
Russia to England.
You must wake to catch me early, very early, brother, dear,
The day you do will be the longest of all the circling year,
Of all the circling year, brother, if you my plans would baulk,
For I’m to be Cock o’ the Walk, brother, I’m to be Cock o’ the Walk.