Gad’s Hill Charlie is my name.
Ay, sweet Jack Falstaff! Verily, his humour was sublime;
I introduce my Pickwick, the Falstaff of the time:
Imagine that rare hero engaging with a will,
A mob of men in buckram by moonlight on Gad’s Hill!
For Gad’s Hill Charlie is my name, my boys,
Gad’s Hill Charlie is my name.
All round the year men read me: and faith! I mean to write,
So long as these clear eyes of mine are filled with living light,
So long as oddities abound, and laughter lingers still,