Or where long-suffering Fares might take,
A more atrocious ride?
“’Tis done! Oblivion’s curtain falls
Upon the myriad men
Who’ve blown me up, and knocked me down,
And ‘had me up’ again.
Those frowsy cushions bring not back
Nor stretch four souls upon the rack
By Nature made for twain!
Oh, let this cramped roof-tree go,