The quality folk went riding by,
All in a coach and four,
And pretty Annette, in a calico gown,
(Bringing her marketing things from town,)
Stopped short with her Sunday store,
And wondered if ever it should betide
That she in a long-plumed hat would ride
Away in a coach and four.
A Lord there was, oh, a lonely soul,
There in the coach and four;
His years were young but his heart was old,
And he hated his coaches and hated his gold
(Those things which we all adore).
And he thought how sweet it would be to trudge
Along with the fair little country drudge,
And away from his coach and four.
And so next day he went riding back,
All with his coach and four,
And he went each day, whether dry or wet,
Till he married the sweet little maid Annette
(In spite of her lack of lore).
But they did n't trudge off on foot together,
For he bought her a hat with a long, long feather,
And they rode in the coach and four.
Now a thing like this could happen, we know,
All in a coach and four;
But the fact of it is, 'twixt me and you,
There is n't a word of the story true
(Pardon I do implore).
It is only a foolish and fanciful song
That came to me as I rode along,
All in a coach and four.
Lippincott's Monthly Magazine 91 (Jan. 1913): 63.
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