| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
812 THE COW CHACE. |
||
|
Still as he fled, 'twas Irving's cry,
And his example too, " Run on, my merry men—For why?
The shot will not go through." s
As when two kennels in the street,
Swell'd with a recent rain, In gushing streams together meet,
And seek the neighboring drain;
So met these dung-born tribes in one,
As swift in their career, And so to Newbridge they ran on—
But all the cows got clear.
Poor Parson Caldwell, all in wonder,
Saw the returning train, And mourn'd to Wayne the lack of plunder
For them to steal again.
For. 'twas his right to steal the spoil, and To share with each commander,
As he had done at Staten Island With frost-bit Alexander. |
||