Sam Small, though approaching his eightieth year
Were feeling all brisk-like and hearty,
So he sent out an invite when Christmas drew near
And asked all his friends to a party.
There was old ale and sandwiches, beer and cold tongue,
And trifle with gooseberry jam,
And parkin and humbugs, a couple of ducks,
And lovely great platefuls or ham.
Sam's captain were there from his old army days,
A man for his strictness renowned,
And Left. Bird and the Sergeant, the same
who once knocked Sam's musket on t'ground.
First Left. Bird volunteered for a song,
And accompanied by Sergeant McNally,
Sang "Of all the girls that are so smart
There's none like pretty Sally."
Then Captain jumped up, said he'd not be outdone,
He played for himself with one finger.
There were tears in all eyes when he'd finished his song;
He were a magnificent singer.
He'd start a bit husky, but nothing to last,
His voice cleared up fine when he'd coughed:
"Faithful below, Tom did his duty,
And now he's gone aloft, and now he's gone aloft.'
As his last trembling note died away in a gulp
Came a clatter of hoofs from outside.
Sam pulled back the blind and flushed up to his ears,
"It's the Duke!" he announced with much pride.
And it were. Up he rode on his lovely white horse.
Sam faltered "Why, Duke, is it you?"
And thee with lumbago and snow on the ground.
I take it most kind, that I do."
"Gradely, lad," said the Duke, condescending and kind.
"By Gum, but how well you do look.
Er, this room's a bit stuffy and hot. Do you mind
If I hang up me coat on this hook?"