T’elope’s the word and down she goes
With fur on neck and veil on nose
While Poll her maid with light and rope-a
At once assists and saves a faux pas.
Now side by side in Dickey plac’d
To Gretna Green they speed with haste
While Poll and Stag sit Vis á Vis
And quiz the Pupil of the B:D:C:*
* Barouche Driving Club.
T’wixt cup and lip Alas! we see
Both wine and lovers spilt may be.
Against the Post, the horses run
The Reins are lost the Coachman’s flung
Pig flies aloft, Miss tumbles down
Broke is her neck, and crack’d his crown!
Moral.
Behold the crisis of our awful story
And catch this Moral from the Scene before ye
If e’er at Gretna Green a lover glances
Crane-necks remember, and beware mischances.