Patriotism

    The King of Sardinia's

          Visit to England

[NLS note: a graphic appears here - see image of page]

Rial and Co., Printers, Monmouth Court, Seven Dials, London.

CHEER up, cheer up, Great Britain's Isle
The bells shall merrily ring,
And welcome with a pleasant smile
The great Sardinian King ;
To visit old Britannia's Queen,
Right good is his idea,
While his men are fighting side by side,
With ours in the Crimea.
The guns shall fire, the band shall play,
And the bells shall merrily ring,
While we welcome with a loud huzza,
The great Sardinian King.

This King is going to Windsor,
To view the Castle fire ;
He is going to London City
With the great Lord Mayor to dine :
And then he's going to Saffron Hill,
Where his countrymen so nice,
Will show the great Italian King
Their monkeys and their m ce.

Oh what a mob, says Windsor Bob,
There is, see how they cling,
The pretty maids are all in love
With the Italian King.
Such glorious sights by day and night,
The like was never seen,
Oh Albert mind, look out behind,
For fear he'll steal your Queen.

He has been to France to learn to dance,
And view the lasses keen,
He dined with brave Napoleon,
And kissed the sweet Eugene
And now he's come to England
To pass some merry days,
Come ladies pull your trousers up,
And toddle out of the way.

When he gets to London City,
Such doings will be there,
He will have some shockioney,
With Saloman's, the Mayor.
The King is an Italian,
And the Lord Mayor is a Jew,
So in Petticoat Lane they'll have a game,
And dine on Irish stew.

Here's the heroes of Old England,
And courageous lads of Frrnce,
Who, with the brave Sardinians
Will make the Russians dance
Their King shall Britons welcome,
No pleasure's him denied,
While the bold Allied Powers all,
Are fighting side by side.

To the Castle of great Windsor,
Right welcome he shall be,
Where the Queen has lots of sugar
For to sweeten well his tea ;
He shall have soup for dinner,
And then before 'tis night,
The King shall have a good blow out
Of sausages and tripe.
Hurrah for merry England,
Hark how the bells do ring,
To welcome (all are mingling)
The great Sardinian King.