The Severn full of salmon fine enriches low and high land,
And then, for more variety, you've got a little island;
Of which I've read a Taylor's Tale, a dozen verses long, sirs,
And may I go to Old Harry, if it's not a clever song, sirs.
George Ridler's oven, I've been told, contains some curious jokes, sirs,
And much of it is said by many Glo'ster folks, sirs;
But ovens now are serious things, and from my soul I wish, sirs,
Your ovens here many ne'er want bread to fill the poor man's dish, sirs.
Now if you will but all forgive this slight attempt at rhyme, sirs,
I'll promise, like the little boys, to mend another time, sirs;