“I don’t know.”
“And Dobbs and the snobs?”
“All used-up long ago.”
“My nag’s almost blown!”
“And mine’s got a stone
In his shoe—I’m afraid it’s no go. Why, I say!
That rascally highwayman’s getting away!”
’Tis true. Swift as the trackless wind,
The gallant barb leaves all behind;
Hackney and hunter still in vain