Where every prad keeps well his pace,
Nor draws my eye from the sweet one’s face.
Nought tells how goeth the time of day,
Nor why the hours so fly away.
I never heard the angry sea roar,
But I love the dry land more and more;
And away have flown to my box and reins,
For whips and wheel sounds are my favourite strains;
On my team is all my care bestow’d,
For I was born on the turnpike road!