But in England, quoth he, I must travel incog.
At least till the “Age of Reason.”
So his tail he tuck’d into his pantaloons,
With a Brutus, all stivering and hairy,
He hid his pared horns, or rather the roots;
And he look’d, with his hoofs in Wellington boots,
Like a Minister’s Secretary.
As he travell’d to London, he star’d about,
And it caused him some vexation
To see matters looking so very well,