Ride! Ride! Ride!
My labour never flags:
And what are its wages? Forty a year,
And these two wretched nags,
This mutton chop, and this damper queer—
A stretcher, a ’possum rug,
And so wretched all that the traveller here
But seldom shows his mug!
“Count! Count! Count!
The thousands of every flock,