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But nothing could young Jehu please, except a touch at driving: 'Twas all in vain, his father found, to spend his breath in striving.

At least 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 steeds go fast enough; Keep in the middle beaten tract, nor cross the ruts so rough:

And when within the town you come, be sure, with special care, Drive clear of sign posts, booths and stalls, and monsters of the fair.

The youth scarce heard his father out, but roard, Bring out the whisky! With joy be view the rolling wheels, and prancing ponies frisky.

He seized the reins, and sprung, and waved the whistling lash, Take care, take care, his father cried : but off he went slab dash.

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.