They are Britons, and doggedly stick to their guns,
“Now surrender!” (a bombardier thus the Prince hails):
“Do you yield?”—“No, but you do!” says Albert of Wales.
“You are captured, each man Jack!” says he with a laugh.—
“I beg pardon, your Highness, it’s you and your staff.”—
“Oh dear, no!”—“Yes, yes, really,” the umpire submits,
“As your Highness’s men would be knocked all to bits,
You must yield yourselves up—no resistance avails.”—
“Don’t you wish you may get it?” says Albert of Wales.
With a jerk at his rein, and a stroke of his whip,