CHAUNT.
All rushing hurry scurry, in a terrible great hurry—
with the Officers of State, that they mighn't be too
late, for they knew she wouldn't wait—the Premier
full of zeal—Lord Chancellor, Privy Sal—His
Grace of Canterbury, in duty ever ready—the Bishop
too, of London, that nothing migh, be undone—the
Lord High Chamberlain, with his wand and chain
—the Commander of the Forces, the Grand Master
of the Horses—and, not a little puzzled, the Lord
Steward of the Household—when the Birth of the
Royal Boy, spread universal joy—
From the very top of the Palace to the bottom,
Down below!
For it was on my Lord Mayor's Day—
No wonder they were merry!
