To variegate the contest, and capered round, and fought;
They gave no chance. The foemen, with awkward clink of steels,
Struck now and then, while skew-ways the donkeys fought with heels,—
'Twas six o'clock commencing, and now, the strokes of ten,
Were sounding from the city, and still these mounted men,
Had not received abrasion, a cut, a prod, or crack,
When both were somersaulted, from off each asses' back;
The weapons went in splinters, as on the frosty grass,
Each foeman sprawled a moment, and loudly cursed his ass.
The assmen, quickly bounded unto their feet again,