THE OMNIBUS
The horrors of an omnibus,
Indeed, I’ve cause to curse;
And if I ride in one again,
I hope ‘twill be my hearse.
If you a journey have to go,
And they make no delay,
’Tis ten to one you’re serv’d like curds,
They spill you on the WHEY.
A short time since my wife and I
A short call had to make,
And giving me a kiss, she said—
“A buss you’d better take!”
We journey’d on—two lively cads,
Were for our custom triers;
And in a twinkling we were fix’d
Fast by this pair of pliers!
My wife’s arm I had lock’d in mine,
But soon they forced her from it;
And she was lugg’d into the Sun,
And I into the Comet!
Jamm’d to a jelly, there I sat,
Each one against me pushing;
And my poor gouty legs seem’d made
For each one’s pins—a cushion!
My wife some time had gone before:
I urged the jarvey's speed,
When all at once the bus set off
At fearful pace, indeed!
I ask’d the coachee what caused this?
When thus his story ran:—
“Vy, a man shied at an oss, and so
An oss shied at a man!”
Oh, fearful crash! oh, fearful smash!
At such a rate we run,
That presently the Comet came
In contact with the Sun.
At that sad time each body felt,
As parting with its soul,
We were, indeed, a little whirl’d,
And shook from pole to pole!
Dunn, the miller of Wimbledon, has recently given his infant the Christian name of Cardigan. If there is truth in the adage of “give a dog a bad name and hang him,” the poor child has little else in perspective than the gallows.