Fare thee well, thou plum-faced driver,
Poised upon thine airy seat!
Final, ultimate survivor
Of an order obsolete!
Fare thee well! Thy days are numbered.
Long, full long, by weight encumbered,
Tardily thy team hath lumbered
Down each London street,
Passed by carts, bath-chairs, and hearses,
And the cause of constant curses!

Ancient Omnibus ungainly,
We shall miss thee, day by day,
When thy swift successors vainly
We with signals would delay;
When upon their platforms perching,
With each oscillation lurching,
We are perilously searching
For the safest way
To alight without disaster,
While we speed each moment faster!

As our means of locomotion,
Year by year, more deadly grow,
We shall think with fond devotion
Of thy stately gait and slow.
Harassed, vexed, fatigued, and flurried
Shaken, discomposed, and worried,
As in motors we are hurried
Wildly to and fro,
We perchance shall not disparage
Horse-drawn omnibus or carriage!