And still more stunning cheers were given
By noisy British loyalty.
But noisier yet the crowd will grow,
Through King Street, as the Queen shall go
To Guildhall, there—on gouty toe—
To see her hosts dance heavily.
The concourse thickens! Heroes brave,
Who flash the bull’s eye on the knave,
Wave, Crushers, all your truncheons wave,
And charge them with the cavalry.