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Jvlen I know who love it well, 

 On their merits I must dwell, 



Men like Becket and MacAdam of to-day. 



Through the country and the towns, 

 Christmas; Herveyson, and Fownes, 



One and all can take you safely on your way. 



1 

 Us a pleasure to be near, 

 And to watch them as they steer ; 



When their hands are on the ribbons you can feel 

 Every horse is in his place. 

 Each is bearing on the trace. 



And is moving to the music of the wheel. 



Now a team they call the fleas, 

 Sporting hunters if you please. 



All alike and each a sharp flea-bitten grey, 

 Quick and handy in their pace. 

 You can't put them out of place. 



Every one of them can gallop, jump and stay. 



Out again across the downs, 



With a stiffish team of browns ; 

 As I roll beneath the coach box I can hear 



Each is stepping to my tune, 



On this balmy day in June. 

 While the guard makes merry music from the rear. 



