Like a five-bob American clock.
A ladder is put to the window,
A young fellow pulls off his hat,
He springs up that ladder as lithe as an adder,
And climbs with the skill of a cat.
We sweep like a wave past the Red Post!
It’s now that the battle begins.
Ev’ry eye’s on the blue. In a second or two
They’ll be shouting out “Kissing Cup wins!”
We’ve got ’em all settled, I think, sir,