"He has a cheerful taste in tunes," I remarked.
The fellow chuckled. "That's his favourite. 'My Lady's Coach' he calls it, and—come to think of it—I never heard him sing any other."
"It doesn't sound like Tantivey." I strained my ears for the words of the guard's song, and heard—
"The wheels go round without a sound
Or tramp or [inaudible] of whip—"
"The wheels go round without a sound
Or tramp or [inaudible] of whip—"
The words next following were either drowned by the wind or muffled and smothered in the man's neck-cloths; but by-and-by I caught another line or two—
"Ho! ho! my lady saith,
Step in and ride with me:
She takes the baby, white as death,
And jigs him on her knee.
The wheels go round without a sound—"
"Ho! ho! my lady saith,
Step in and ride with me:
She takes the baby, white as death,
And jigs him on her knee.
The wheels go round without a sound—"
This seemed to be the refrain.
"The wheels go round without a sound
Or [inaudible again] horse's tread,
My lady's breath is foul as death,
Her driver has no head—"