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The frighted beast ran on-but here,
short in mid career-
A tear for good old Lewis !
The frighted beast ran through the town;
All follow'd, boy and dad, Bull-dog, Parson, Shopman, Clown: The Publicans rush'd from the Crown, “Halloo ! hamstring him! cut him down !"
THEY DROVE THE POOR OX MAD.
Why e'en a Rat may plague you :
They're both alike the Ague.
Faced round like any Bull-
But had his belly full.
Old Nick's astride the beast, 'tis clear
Old Nicholas, to a tittle !
Squirt out some fasting-spittle.
Achilles was a warrior feet,
The Trojans he could worry-
The mob fed hurry-scurry.
* According to the superstition of the West-Countries, if you meet the Devil, you may either cut him in half with a straw, or force him to disappear by spitting over his horns.
Through gardens, lanes and fields new plough’d,
Through his hedge, and through her hedge, He plung’d and toss'd and bellow'd loud, Till in his madness he grew proud, To see this helter-skelter crowd,
That had more wrath than courage.
He made for these poor ninnies,
A sight of golden guineas !
But here once more to view did pop
The man that kept his senses ; And now he cried—“Stop, neighbours ! stop; • The Ox is mad ! I would not swop, “ No! not a school-boy's farthing-top,
“ For all the parish-fences.”
What means this coward fuss?
“ See, here's my blunderbuss.
“ A lying dog! just now he said
“ The Ox was only glad
“ YOU DROVE THE POOR OX MAD."
As thus I sat, in careless chat,
With the morning's wet newspaper,
Our pursy Woollen-draper.