Here's a lady dead, for she hangs her head, and seems so very quiet.
Oh! what a jam, we can scarcely cram our heads within the door;
I fear you'll find, you must sit behind, since you did not come before.
Oh! that won't do—we've paid for two—myself, and here's my cousin;
I'm number twenty—here's room in plenty—why, your window wont hold a dozen.
'Tis a swindling cheat, but we lose the treat while haggling here we stand,
And we'll not submit to be thus bit, if a lawyer's in the land.
But now stand fast, they come at last, the grooms in their cloth of gold,
And Royal Dukes, you may know by their looks, so thick they can scarce be told.
Here are Silver Sticks, in a coach-and-six, methinks it's rather funny,