I didn't care to meet him, and I couldn't well get down,
So I let the Waler have it, and we headed for the town.
The buggy was a new one and, praise Dykes, it stood the strain
Till the Waler jumped a bullock just above the City Drain;
And the next that I remember was a hurricane of squeals,
And the creature making toothpicks of my five-foot patent wheels.
He seemed to want the owner, so I fled, distraught with fear,
To the Main Drain sewage-outfall where he snorted in my ear—
Reached the four-foot drain-head safely, and in darkness and despair,
Felt the brute's proboscis fingering my terror-stiffened hair.
Found the Main Drain sewage-outfall blocked, some eight feet up, with mire;
Heard it trumpet on my shoulder—tried to crawl a little higher—