Page:Horse of knowledge and his water box.pdf/4

4 But traffic’s wound may gush wi' gore,

And hungry wabsters lick the sore,

The monster, Famine, ramp an’ roar,

War’s clangor clash,

I’ll chew my beans from door to door,

But care or fash.

Mares, geldings, stallions, mules and asses,

How long infest my streets and causeys?

In wain or waggon, trams or traces,

Chaise, gig, or coach,

With awful rev'rence veil your faces

At my approach!

For I’m a horse of high degree,

My name is Toby Willow-tree,

Can Circus feats perform wi’ glee,

Canter or gallop,

And where’s the steed will prance wi’ me

The Brentford wallop.