Classic Poem

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.

II.

Oh the notions of life that I see from my box,
While faces 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.

III.

My coach receives all, like the gallows and sea,
So I touch but my fair 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 your going I well know the spot,
And, do you tip a tizzy, I'll tip the long trot.