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.
