E'en so, with shriek of fife and drum

        And horrid clang of brass,

     The Fire Brigades of England come

        And down St. Giles's pass.

     Oh grand, methinks, in such array

     To spend a Whitsun Holiday

        All soaking to the skin!

    (Yet shoes and hose alike are stout;

     The shoes to keep the water out,

        The hose to keep it in.)