I.

I will sing in the Praise, if you'll lend but an Ear,
Of the first Royal Regiment, but don't think I jeer
If I vow and protest they are as brave Men and Willing,
As ever old _Rome_ bred, or new _Iniskilling_.

II.

Oh, had you but seen them March with that _Decorum_
That no _Roman_ Triumph could e're go before 'em,
Some smoking, some whistling, all meaning no harm,
Like _Yorkshire_ Attornies coming up to a Term,

III.

On Bobtails, on _Longtails_, on Trotters, on Pacers,
On Pads, Hawkers, Hunters, on Higlers, on Racers,
You'd ha' swore Knight and Squires, Prigs, Cuckolds, and Pandors.
Appear'd all like so many great _Alexanders_,

IV.

Whose Warriers who thorow all Dangers durst go.
Most bravely despising Blood, Battle, and Foe,
Were mounted on Steeds the last Lord Mayor's Day,
From _Turky, Spain, Barbary_, Coach, Cart, and Dray.