Still, the slow need not stop, and the weak may not fall,
His second mount's here. He may puff and perspire,
But he's game to go on, is our Galloping Squire!
Galloping Squire (coming up and preparing to change mounts). Pouf! Oh! here you are, Jack! Sharp's the word! Quick change, and on we go again! The Welsh horse has carried me better than I expected, though I've had to bustle him along, and he's a bit blown.
[Changes mounts smartly.
Irish Groom. That's right, Squire. The Welsh 'un hasn't done so badly, but I think you'll find the Irish 'un fit as a fiddle. These Irish horses——Ah! he's off. (Looking after him, as he takes the bridle of Taffy.) Well, he'll do his best, beaten or not, blowed if he won't! Goes well, too, he does, for an old 'un! Hope Paddy'll pull him through to the end o' the run. (Sings.)
"And long may it be ere he's forced to retire,
For we breed very few like our Galloping Squire!"
[Leads off "The Welsh 'un"—for the present.