Young King Coal he laid down his bowl,
And a dickens of a speech made he;
And he talked so loud that he frightened half the crowd,
And broke up the symphonee.
At least some (in the Chorus) cried, “This music can’t be for us,”
But as for those fiddlers three,
Whilst the Chorus cried, “We’re diddled!” they symphonically fiddled,
And muttered “O, fiddlededee!”
Young King Coal still waves his pipe and bowl,
Though they reek of Rad flavour still.