I’ve broke down many a stage coach, and many a chaise and gig, Sirs,
Once, in passing through a trap-hole, I found myself too big, Sirs,
I’ve been circumstanc’d most oddly, whilst contesting hard a race, Sirs,
But ne’er was half so frighten’d, as amongst the Crabs and Plaise, Sirs.
O fate, Sirs, keeps us all in tow, from the monarch to the barber,
Or certainly I’d breath’d my last, this morning in the harbour.
My friends, for your exertions, my heart o’erflows with gratitude,
O may it prove the last time, you find me in that latitude;
God knows with what mischances dire, the future may abound, Sirs,
But I hope and trust I’m one of those, not fated to be drown’d, Sirs.”