Cushioned seats and our souls at ease,
Dainty in food and fare,
We are the masters their toil must please,
Or face gaunt-cheeked despair.
Russian and Irishman, Croat and Swede—
Human under the tan—
Giving us homage while making us speed,
As only the generous can.
Riding and riding, hats in our hands,
Something warm in the eye.