"Please the Pigs?" That's absurd, a mere obsolete wheeze,
For Pigs are precisely the beasts you can't please!
Gee up, Dobbin, old lad! Home's in sight; you have borne
My burden, and that of my basket, right well,
Your carrying power some neighbours would scorn,
But you're sound and good grit, though you mayn't look a swell.
We're starting, lad, after our short half-way halt,
If we don't make good time it will not be our fault.
We did the first stretch unexpectedly slick,
My basket well loaded a feather-weight seemed,