The gates were barred, and all secure,
But he knocked and thumped with his oaken clump,
There's room within for I to be sure.
But when he got there, how he did stare,
To see the yeomen strutting about;
He scratched his head, and rubbed down his hair,
In the ear of a noble he gave a great shout:
"Pray, Mr Noble, show I the King;
Is that the King that I see there?
I see'd an old chap at Bartlemy fair