The way was long, arid the wind was cold, The General felt h 6 weas growing old, As his pony stopped on the dreadful brink, And-letting him fall, it watched him sink With never a tremor and never a blink, And turning it trotted home!
The leater was gold and the mud twas Vlack, And poor old Teesdale lad lost his hat. He uttered a curse and he damned his bones, For the hunt kad galloped off after Jones, And nothing toas left for him but groans, And vain regret!
"There were tu tired loafers who'd lost their. pip, And they came up together to Potter's Dip; The one got over, the other remained; 'The one went on and the other teas pained, He-cried: that his comrade's escutcheon was' stained; At leaving him all alone.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.