There's your lords and ladies fine,

Riding in a coach and six,

Nothing to drink but claret wine,

Talking politicks.

London is a dainty place,

A great and gallant city!

All the streets are paved with gold,

And all the folks are witty.

There's your beaux with powder'd clothes,

Bedaub'd from head to chin,

Their pocket-holes adorned with gold,

But not one sou within.

There's your lords and ladies fine,

Riding in a coach and six,

Nothing to drink but claret wine,

Talking politicks.

There your English actor goes

With many a hungry belly;

While heaps of gold are forc'd, God wot,

On Signor Farinelli.

There's your lords and ladies fine,

Riding in a coach and six,

Nothing to drink but claret wine,

Talking politicks.

London is a dainty place,

A great and gallant city!

All the streets are paved with gold,

All the folks are witty.

There's your dames with dainty frames,

Skins as white as milk;

Dressed every day in garments gay,

Of satin and of silk.

London is a dainty place.