During the run the wine's been running too;
And shan't I get into a pretty scrape,
This borrow'd cloak is done for with the cape;
Of my best wine this is a pretty clearer,
I wish it were my cheaper, not Madeira.
Well, let us have a glass of port instead;
We can't, here's all the crust upon the bread.
'Tis useless now to grumble at our fate,
We came to Ascot for the cup and plate;
While to our lot it has but chanced to fall,