THE PUBLIC'S ADDRESS TO HIS CABMAN.
(IMITATED FROM THE ARAB'S ADDRESS TO HIS STEED.)
My insolent; my turbulent! that stands crest-fallen by,
With the recent Cab Act in thy hand, and tear-drops in thine eye,
Try not to overcharge us now, or make our pockets bleed;
You cannot do it now again—thou'rt sold, my man, indeed.
Fret not with that impatient cough: if surlily inclined,
The nearest station is the place at which redress to find;
The magistrates have now the power to mulct thee of thy gold,
Or send thee off to jail, my friend. Thou'rt sold, my man, thou'rt sold.
'Tis well! those old and crazy wheels not many a mile can roam;
After next October you must keep that vehicle at home.
Some other cab less old and torn you shortly must prepare,
With roof not full of crevices, admitting rain and air.
Yes, it must go! the crazy cab, the old abandoned fly,
Must on thy master's premises be finally put by;
And in it there some juveniles, who cannot get a ride,
May cram themselves, by climbing up the wheels on every side.
Do they ill-use thee, Cabman? No! I'm sure it cannot be;
You that have bullied half the world, and humbugged even me.
And yet, if haply thou'rt done up, and for thee we should yearn,
Can the same law that cut thee off compel thee to return?
Return! alas! my Cabman bold, what shall the public do,
When rain is falling everywhere, wetting the public through?
I'll stand me up beneath an arch, and pause and sadly think—
'Twas at the beer-shop opposite, the Cabmen used to drink.
The Cabmen used to drink! Away—my fevered dream is o'er;
I could not live a day and know cabs were to be no more.
They've cut thee down, exacting one; but legal power is strong:
You tempted us, my insolent! you kept it up too long.
Who said that I had given thee up? Who said that thou wert sold?
'Tis false! 'tis false! Thou'rt better off, my Cabman, thou art told.
Thus, thus, I leap into thy cab, to ride five miles from town,
And when at Acton I alight, I'll pay thee half-a-crown.
NATURAL HISTORY OF CHOBHAM.