Page:Thrummy Cap (3).pdf/20

 But nothing could young Jehu please,
 * except a touch at driving;

’Twas all in vain, his father found,
 * to spend his breath in driving.

At last. Attend, rash boy, he cried,
 * and follow good advice.

Or in a ditch both gig and you
 * will tumble in a trice.

Spare, spare the whip, hold hard the reins,
 * the deeds go fad enough;

Keep in the middle beaten track,
 * nor cross the rut so rough;

And when within the town you come,
 * be sure with special care.

Drive clear of sign-pods, booths and stalls,
 * and monsters of the fair.

The youth scarce heard his father out,
 * but roar’d bring out the whisky,

With joy he view'd the rolling wheels,
 * and prancing ponies frisky.

He seiz’d the rems, and up he sprung,
 * and wav'd the whistling lash;

Take care! take care! the father cried,
 * but off he went slab dath.

Who’s this light spark, the horses thought,
 * we’ll try your strength young master,

So o'er the rugged turnpike road
 * still faster ran and faster.