The coming of the king!
Each lady now her kerchief throws,
Each exquisite with ardour glows,
Each treads upon his fellow’s toes,
And deems he sees the monarch’s nose,—
Ah! no, ’tis no such thing.
Yet hark! now, now in truth he comes,
He comes as sure as drums are drums;
The drums, the guns, the shouts, the cheers,
You hear—or you have lost your ears.