The rain of terror's come—the horse to go
At a smart pace has made himself to smart;
'Tis bad enough to bear the shafts of woe,
But who would bear the shafts of such a cart!
What a nice party—twelve inside—to drag,
Each fat and full, and heavy as a dunce,
And all, besides the man wot drives the nag,
Holding the rains together—all at once!
The horse is urged—most tired and half dead;
"Come up," they cry—when shall we get to town?