Pray, sir, now do not do it, but stay over, I implore.”
This he oft had said before.
But then he looked more willing, as I threw to him a shilling
To drink my health in whisky, as oft I’d done before.
And then I took my spanner, and all the bolts did hammer,
And tightened up the nuts, an operation I abhor,
Then I jumped into my saddle, shouting to him “au revoir.”
Only this, and nothing more.
And as I felt aweary, the road to me seemed dreary
Drearier than ever it had seemed to me before,