Make the wheels creak and axle burn;
Yet give the haughty devil his due,
Though bold his quarterings, they were true:
Yes, let us not his skill disparage,
He never once o’erset the carriage,
Though oft he whirl’d it, one would think,
Just o’er the pitfall’s headlong brink;
While at each hair-breadth ’scape, his foes
Would cry, there, there, by G—d, it goes!
And as stiff Buck would ne’er submit