I must trust to these two! says our Galloping Squire.
He takes the Welsh horse by the head, and he sails
O'er this crossest o' countries, all ear and all eye.
He takes as they come high banks, fences, and rails;
The cramped ones he'll creep, and the fair ones he'll fly.
It's a mighty queer place that will put in the mire
That artful old horseman, our Galloping Squire.
A fast forty minutes of run and of race,
And he's glad of a change, as indeed are we all.
The two he must ride are not gluttons for pace,