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Their liquor is blood, and this horrible stave
They howl, "To the health of Alonzo the Brave
And his consort the false Imogene."
the old man, his son and ass.
A country fellow and his son, they tell
In modern fables, had an ass to sell:
For this intent they turn'd it out to play,
And fed so well that by the destin'd day,
They brought the creature into sleek repair,
And drove it gently to a neighb'ring fair.
As they were jogging on, a rural class
Was heard to say, "Look, look there at that ass
And those two blockheads trudging on each side
That have not either of 'em sense to ride:
Asses all three and thus the country folks
On man and boy began to cut their jokes.
Th' old fellow minded nothing that they said,
But every word stuck in the young one's head;
And they began their comment there upon
"Ne'er heed 'em lad", "Nay, father, do get on.",
"Not I, indeed." "Why then, let me, pray,"
"Well do: and see what prating tongues will say
The boy was mounted; and they had not got
Much further on, before another knot,
Just as the ass passing by, pad, pad,
Cried, "O! that lazy looby of a lad,
How unconcernedly the gaping brute
Lets the poor aged fellow walk a foot."
Down came the son, on hearing this account,
And begg'd and pray'd, and made his father mount:
