"Indeed!" said I, "that's very unusual in a canal-boat; were any lives lost?"
"No, but we were all dreadfully sceared and covered with mud. I sat down by the en-gine till I got dry, and then I wrote my pome. I will repeat what I can to you, and what I can't I will write right off when I gets hum.--Hold on--hold on--" he continued, beating his forehead with the back of his hand, as if to awaken the powers of memory--"I have it now--I have it now,--'tis tre-men-dous--"
"Oh Lord, who know'st the wants of men,
Guide my hand, and guide my pen,
And help me bring the truth to light,
Of that dread scene and awful night,
Ri, tu, ri, tu, ri, tu.
There was Mister Cadoga in years a-bud,
Was found next morning in tew feet mud;
He strove--he strove--but all in vain,