“Come, bundle in with me, we must squeeze for once,” says he,
“And manage this here business, as best we may,
We’ve no other way to choose, not a moment must we lose,
Or the tide will float us off in our one horse chay.”
So noses, sides, and knees, altogether they did squeeze,
And pack’d in little compass, they trotted it away;
As dismal as two dummies, head and hands stuck out like mummies,
From beneath the little apron of the one horse chay.
Mr. Bubb ge-upp’d in vain, and strove to jerk the rein,
Nobbs found he had his option to work or play;
So he wouldn’t mend his pace, though they fain would have run race,
To escape the merry gazers at the one horse chay.
Now, good people laugh your fill, and fancy if you will,
(For I’m fairly out of breath, and have had my say;)
The trouble and the rout, to wrap and get them out,
When they drove to their lodgings in their one horse chay.
THE LITERARY DUSTMAN.
Some folks may talk of sense, egad!
Vot holds a lofty station;
But, tho’ a dustman, I have had
A liberal hedication.
And tho’ I never vent to school,
Like many of my betters,
A turnpike man, vot varnt no fool,
He larnt me all my letters.
Chorus.
They calls me Adam Bell, ’tis clear,
As Adam vos the fust man,
And by a co-in-side-ance queer,
Vy! I’m the fust of Dustmen!
At sartin schools they makes boys write,
Their Alphabets on sand, Sirs,
So I thought dust vould do as vell,
And larnt it out of hand, Sirs,
Took in the Penny Magazine,[30]
And Johnson’s Dictionary,
And all the Pe-ri-odi-cals,
To make me literary.