"The tune is solemn, as if set To fit some doleful ditty; In lamentation for the Queen To move all hearts to pity. * * * I call it he, not she, because It sings and cocks its tail; Which that no female robin doth, I'll hold a pot of ale. * * * Some say this bird an angel is; If so, we hope ’tis good. But why an angel? Why, forsooth They say he takes no food.But that the robin lives by meat Is true without dispute; For tho’ none ever saw him eat, Enough have seen him mute.And that sometimes undecently, Upon the statue-royal, Which made some call him Jacobite, Or otherwise illoyal. * * * The robin may have lost his mate, So hath King William his; And that he well may match again Our hearty prayer is."