Lyrics:

there's your lords and ladies fine
riding in a coach and six,
nothing to drink but claret wine,
talking politics.

there's your lords and ladies fine
riding in a coach and six,
nothing to drink but claret wine,
talking politics.

london is a dainty place,
a great and gallant city!
all the streets are pav'd 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 sous within.

there's your lords and ladies fine
riding in a coach and six,
nothing to drink but claret wine,
talking politics.

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 politics.

london is a dainty place,
a great and gallant city!
alle the streets are pav'd with gold
and all the folks are witty.

there's your dames with dainty frames,
skins as white as milk,
dressed each day in garments gay
of satin and of silk.

london is a dainty place