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O let my prayer, bright maid, prevail! Grant inspiration to my tale! A tale both comical and new, And with a swinging moral, too! In a small quiet country town Lived Bob; a blunt, but honest elown: Who, spite of all the school could teach, From habit, stammer'd in his speech; And sceond nature, soon, we're sure, Confirm'd the case beyond a eure. Ask him to say, Hot rolls and butter; "A hag-a-gag, and splitter-splutter" Stopp'd every word he strove to utter. It happened once upon a time-- I word it thus to suit my rhyme; For all our country neighbours know It can't be twenty years ago-- Our sturdy ploughman, apt to strike, Was busy delving at his dyke; Which, let me not forget to say, Stood elose behind a publie way: And, as he lean'd upon his spade Reviewing o'er the work he'd made, A youth, a stranger in that place, Stood right before him, face to faee. "P-P-P-P-pray," says he, "How f-f-f-f-far may't be               To-o,"--the words would not come on, "To-o Borough-Bridge, or thereabout??                 Our clown took huff; thrice hemm'd upon',                Then smelt a kind of an affront.                Thought he--"This bluff, fool-hardy fellow, A little cracked, perhaps, or mellow, Knowing my tongue an inch too short, Is come to fleer and make his sport: Wauns! if I thought he meant to quarrel, I'd hoop tbe roynish rascal's barrell If me be means, or dares deride, By all that's good, I'll tan his hide! I'll dress his vile calf's skin in buff, And thrash it tender where 'tis tough Thus, full resolv'd, he stood aloof, And waited mute, for farther proof. While t'other, in a kind of pain, Applied him to his tongue again-- "Speak, friend; e-c-e-e-can you, pray,