The sage of Greystone, so they say,
Has two imported steeds;
The one is black, the other bay,
And both of noble breeds.
Before he bought these chargers rare—
Of stylish blood and tone—
He used to drive another pair,
A humble gray and roan.

When Tilden hankers after style
On boulevard or street,
A coachman reins the chargers,
While he lolls on cushioned seat.
But when he 's out for holiday
To scour the hedge and thicket,
Alone he drives the roan and gray—
The good old-fashioned ticket.