"In the old English soldier thy brother appears:
Here is gold in abundance, the saving of years:
Give me oatcake and milk in return for my store,
And a seat by thy side on the bench at the door."

Various other songs succeeded, which, as we are not composing a song
book, we shall lay aside for the present.

An old squire, who had not missed one of these anniversaries, during
more than half a century, now stood up, and filling a half-pint
bumper, pronounced, with a stentorian voice--"To the immortal memory
of Headlong Ap-Rhaiader, and to the health of his noble descendant and
worthy representative!" This example was followed by all the gentlemen
present. The harp struck up a triumphal strain; and, the old squire
already mentioned, vociferating the first stave, they sang, or rather
roared, the following

CHORUS

Hail to the Headlong! the Headlong Ap-Headlong!
All hail to the Headlong, the Headlong Ap-Headlong!
The Headlong Ap-Headlong
Ap-Breakneck Ap-Headlong
Ap-Cataract Ap-Pistyll Ap-Rhaiader Ap-Headlong!

The bright bowl we steep in the name of the Headlong:
Let the youths pledge it deep to the Headlong Ap-Headlong,
And the rosy-lipped lasses
Touch the brim as it passes,