Whatever tint, or black or tan, or creed you are by birth,
Sweet voices of the earth's romance, of every land, or nation,
Hail! brothers, in the carnival of music, song, and mirth:
So fill we tankards, or the glass, for draught with lusty cheering,
Of honor to a crowning toast, with greeting heart and hand,
As everlasting goal, for letters, art, and song, and beering,
Hip, hip, hurrah! vive! hoc! and skoal! to Fleet Street and the Strand!
