Note 12 — Chapter II · THE KNIGHTS.

“We much revere our sires, who were a mighty race of men; For every glass of port we drink, they nothing thought of ten. They dwelt above the foulest drains: they breathed the closest air: They had their yearly twinge of gout, and little seemed to care. They set those meddling people down for Jacobins or fools, Who talked of public libraries and grants to normal schools; Since common folks who read and write, and like their betters speak, Want something more than pipes and beer, and sermons once a-week. And therefore both by land and sea their match they rarely met, But made the name of Britain great, and ran her deep in debt. They seldom stopped to count the foe, nor sum the moneys spent, But clenched their teeth, and straight ahead with sword and musket went. And, though they thought if trade were free that England ne’er would thrive, They freely gave their blood for Moore, and Wellington, and Clive. And though they burned their coal at home, nor fetched their ice from Wenham, They played the man before Quebec, and stormed the lines at Blenheim. When sailors lived on mouldy bread, and lumps of rusty pork, No Frenchman dared his nose to show between the Downs and Cork; But now that Jack gets beef and greens, and next his skin wears flannel, The ‘Standard’ says, we’ve not a ship in plight to keep the Channel.”