To Brighton or Worthing, and all with full speed,
Which way are you going so mightily fast?
Take care of the reins, for your mettlesome steed
Might stumble and lay you too low at the last.
With spurs and with boots you are finely set out,
To take a long journey o'er hill and o'er dale;
But remember one thing—'tis of mighty import—
Your poney may founder, and all his strength fail.
And you, too, confess, when you weary have been,
At the end of your journey, wherever you roam;
That, tho' houses, and parks, and fine rivers you've seen,
There's no place so happy, so sweet as your home.