BALLAD. (Here I was my good masters, my…)

Here I was my good masters, my name's Teddy Clinch, My cattle are sound, and I drives to an inch; From Hyde Park to White Chapel I well know the town, And many's the time I've took up and set down: In short, in the bills I'll be bound for't there's not A young youth who, like Teddy, can tip the long trot.

Oh the notions of life that I see from my box, While fares of all kinds come about me in flocks: The sot, whom I drive home to sleep out the day, The kind one, who plies for a fare at the play; Or, your gents of the law, there, who, four in a lot, To Westminster Hall I oft tip the long trot.

My coach receives all, like the gallows and sea, So I touch but my fare you know all's one to me; The men of the gown, and the men of the sword, A ma'am or a gambler, a rogue, or a lord; To wherever you're going I well know the spot, And, do you tip a tizzy, I'll tip the long trot.