To be the wheeling king.
Oh, better far the path to ride
Of cinders, merrily side by side,
And rank as a racing man of might,
Than dwindle away a summer’s night.
For honour is due to racer brave,
And scoff the reward of the moping slave;
So still I’ll ride, and the song I’ll sing
Will be that I’m the wheeling king.
For I am the wheeling king,