When Princes and Prelates,And hot-headed zealots,A’Europe had set in a low, a low,The poor man lies down,Nor envies a crown,And comforts himself as he dow, as he dow,And comforts himself as he dow.7
The black-headed eagle,As keen as a beagle,He hunted o’er height and o’er howe,In the braes o’ Gemappe,He fell in a trap,E’en let him come out as he dow, dow, dow,E’en let him come out as he dow.14
But truce with commotions,And new-fangled notions,A bumper, I trust you’ll allow;Here’s George our good king,And Charlotte his queen,And lang may they ring as they dow, dow, dow,And lang may they ring as they dow.21