The frothy cascade of the black British beer.
O! Chobham Olympics, your games are all done,
The last close is wrestled, the last race is run,
The stone's "put" away, to the leap-frog there's truce,
And the ultimate caber is pitched to the deuce.
Rejoice in thy stable, thou omnibus steed!
For thee the campaign-times were wiry indeed.
No more shalt thou toil on that villanous road;
With a cargo of snobs for thy heart-breaking load.
Weep, rascally drivers of ramshackle flies,