And here is Brown of Camberwell,
Who clears six hoops at speed;
And here is Peckham’s Perkins,
The foremost in the land,
With tinsel fillet, smiling lip,
And cracking whip, and loud Ya-hip,
Who drives eighteen-in-hand.
Make way for the procession—
Make way there, great and small—
It comes,—the troupe of Sanger,