The Mail-Coach, my NOBBS, is no more
What it was when you put on the man;
We've Mail Trains, all rattle and roar,
And that portent, the Packet Post Van.
A Pullman, and not the Box-seat,
Is the aim of our modern Lord BOBS;
But the old recollections are sweet;
And Punch drinks to your health, MOSES NOBBS!
Footnote 1: [(return)]
The Telegraph gives the gentleman's name both as "NOBBS" and "NOGGS." As "NOBBS" comes first, Mr. Punch adopts it, he hopes without misnaming the illustrious veteran.