I’ll sing you a good old song, made by a good old pate,
Of a fine old English gentleman, who had an old estate;
And who kept up his old mansion at a bountiful old rate,
With a good old porter to relieve the old poor at the gate.
Like a fine old English gentleman, all of the olden time.
His hall, so old, was hung around with pikes, and guns, and bows,
And swords, and good old bucklers, which had stood against old foes,
And ’twas here “his worship” sat in state, in doublet and trunk hose,
And quaff’d his cup of good old sack to warm his good old nose.
Like a fine old, &c.