Unhonoured, hideous, mean and slow,
To its appointed doom!
The gas-lamps had a sickly glare,
And not a heart did bleed
As passed that bony hulk along.
Drawn by its bony steed;
The Hansom Cabmen winked and leered,
The very Crossing-Sweeper jeered,
The street-boys raised a yell:
And bliss o’er troubled spirits slid