Till, fainting in the public way, The Horfe reply'd, Poor honeft Pufs, For all your friends are in the rear. She next the ftately Bull implor'd; And when a lady's in the cafe, You know, all other things give place. The Goat remark'd her pulfe was high, My back, fays he, may do you harm; His fides a load of wool fuftain'd: How ftrong are those! how weak am I! Those friends of mine may take offence. For fee the hounds are just in view. END OF THE FIRST PART. |