And they make no delay,
’Tis ten to one you’re serv’d like curds,
They spill you on the WHEY.
A short time since my wife and I
A short call had to make,
And giving me a kiss, she said—
“A buss you’d better take!”
We journey’d on—two lively cads,
Were for our custom triers;
And in a twinkling we were fix’d