Page:Thrummy Cap (3).pdf/23

 Here lay overturn'd, in woeful plight,
 * a pedlar and his pack.

There in a showman's broken box
 * all London went to rack.

But now the fates decreed to stop
 * the ruin of the day.

And make the gig and driver toe,
 * a heavy reckoning pay.

A ditch there lay both broad and deep,
 * whose dreams were black as styx,

From ev'ry quarter of the town
 * their muddy currents mix.

Down to its brink in heedless hade,
 * the frantic horses flew.

And in the midst, with sudden jerk,
 * their burden overthrew.

The prostrate gig with desperate force
 * they soon pull’d out again,

And at their heels, in ruin dire,
 * dragg'd lumbering o'er the plain.

Here lay a wheel, the axle there,
 * the body still remain’d,

Till sever’d limb from limb, the car
 * nor name nor shape retain'd.

But Jehu must not be forgot,
 * left floundering in the flood,

With clothes all drench'd and mouth and eyes
 * be plaster’d o’er with mud.