Letra de London

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.