The Hackney Coachman
Hannah More
1745 to 1833
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I am a bold Coachman, and drive a good hack,
With a coat of five capes that quite covers back;
And my wife keeps a sausage-shop, not many
From the narrowest alley in all Broad St Giles.
poor, we are honest and very content,
We pay we go for meat, drink, and for rent;
To all the week I am able and willing,
I get drunk, and I waste not a shilling.
And at a tavern my gentleman tarries,
The coachman grows than he whom he carries;
And I’d rather (said I), since it saves me from sin,
Be the driver without, than the toper within.
Yet though dram-shops I hate, the dram-drinking friend,
I’m not quite so good but wish I may mend;
I repent of my sins, we all are depraved,
For a coachman, I hold, a soul to be saved.
When a riotous multitude up a street,
And the greater part know not, boys, wherefore they meet;
If I see there is mischief, never go there,
Let others get tipsy so I my fare.
Now to church, if I take some lady to pray,
It grieves me full sore to kept quite away;
So I step within side, though sermon’s begun,
For a slice of the service is than none.
Then my glasses are whole, and my is so neat,
I am always the first to called in the street;
And I’m known by the (’tis a name rather rare)
Of the coachman that asks more than his fare.
Though my beasts should dull, yet I don’t use them ill;
Though they I swear not, nor cut them up hill;
For firmly believe there’s no charm in an oath
That make a nag trot, when to walk he is loath.
And though I’m a coachman, I’ll freely confess,
I of my Maker my labours to bless;
I praise each morning, and pray every night,
And ’tis this my heart feel so cheerful and light.
When I to a funeral I care not for drink;
That not the moment to guzzle, but think;
And I I could add both of coachman and master,
That of us strove to amend a bit faster.