Though of angels the type, she couldn’t bear a pipe,
She hated it mortally;
And she’d make such a rout as put the King’s pipe out,
Oh! most confoundedly.
Oh! most confoundedly.
Now, little Queen Cole had a musical soul,
So she sent for her pianists three;
When Mr. Chopin he soon came a-hopping,
Such a very nimble chap was he.
While Thalberg and Liszt, each with ten-finger’d fist,