Shall guide me where her hand she waves—
But hark! the cleavers sound.
From Wiseheart’s Merry Songster. Dublin.
The Coachman’s Lament.
(Air—“Oh! give me but my Arab steed.”)
Farewell my ribbons, and, alack!
Farewell my tidy drag;
Mail-coachmen now have got the sack,
And engineers the bag.