Forget he ever saw the Congo!
To Oxford 'twas your husband went—
The stately home of Don and Proctor—
Where, 'mid the deafening cheers that rent
The air, he straight became a Doctor.
As one whose valour none can shake,
We've sung him in a thousand ditties,
And freedoms too we've made him take
Of goodness knows how many cities!
Yet while to honour and to praise