So noses, sides, and knees, all together did they squeeze,
And, pack’d in little compass, they trotted it away,
As dismal as two dummies, head and hands stuck out like mummies
From beneath the little apron of the one-horse chay.
XIX.
The Steyne was in a throng, as they jogg’d it along,
Madam hadn’t been so put to it for many a day;
Her pleasure it was damped, and her person somewhat cramped,
Doubled up beneath the apron of the one-horse chay.
XX.
“Oh would that I were laid,” Mr Bubb in sorrow said,
“In a broad-wheeled waggon, well covered with hay!
I’m sick of sporting smart, and would take a tilted cart
In exchange for this bauble of a one-horse chay.
XXI.
“I’d give half my riches for my worst pair of breeches,
Or the apron that I wore last boiling-day;
They would wrap my arms and shoulders from these impudent beholders,
And allow me to whip on in my one-horse chay.”
XXII.
Mr Bubb ge-hupped in vain, and strove to jerk the rein,
Nobbs felt he had his option to work or play,
So he wouldn’t mend his pace, though they’d fain have run a race,
To escape the merry gazers at the one-horse chay.