How gallantly, how merrily, they ride upon their way;
Fleet Street is in commotion, the Queen comes here to-day!
The Aldermen are mounted, and sitting bolt-upright,
Like riders in whose eyes it is no joke to hold on tight.
All London owns their triumph, they ride along two deep,
Small boys come up to look at them, their seats so well they keep.
In their wake, as mild as new milk, stand policemen stiff and stark;
Oh! who would not be Aldermen, in such a famous lark?
* * * * *
(Five verses omitted.)