Classic Poem

Come, all you jolly watermen,
That on the Thames do ply,
Haul up your boats and wet your throats,
For rowing makes us dry.

The noble prince we've landed
Has tipped us store of gold,
Ne'er spare of wealth to drink his health
So long as our tizzies hold.

Here's half is for our landladies,
And half is for our wives,
In wet or dry where'er we ply
We all lead jovial lives.

So here's a health to our noble King,
And our gracious Queen beside,
Also the Prince of Orange,
And we'll not forget his bride.

Also that trade may flourish,
And pride may have a fall,
And dear old England hold her head
As high as the best of all.