Quoth he, “An ancient proverb says, and true it will be found, Sirs,
Those born to prove an airy doom, will surely never be drown’d, Sirs.
For fate, Sirs, has us all in tow, from the monarch to the barber;
Or surely I had breathed my last this morning in the harbour.
Resolv’d to cross the River, Sirs, a Sculler did I get into,
May Jonah’s ill-luck be mine, another when I step into!
Just when we’d reach’d the deepest part, O horror! there it founders,
And down went poor Pillgarlick amongst the Crabs and Flounders!
But fate, that keeps us all in tow, from the monarch to the barber,
Ordain’d I should not breathe my last, this morning in the harbour.