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And now, as he went bowing down

His reeking head full low,
The bottles twain behind his back

Were shatter'd at a blow.

Down ran the wine into the road,

Most piteons to be seen,
Which made his horse's flanks to smoke
As they had basted been.

But still he seem'd to carry weight,

With leathern girdle brac'd;
For all might see the bottle-necks

Still dangling at his waist.

Thus all through merry Islington

These gambols he did play, Until he came unto the wash

Of Edmonton so gay;

And there he threw the wash about

On both sides of the way, Jast like unto a trundling mop,

Or a wild goose at play.

At Edmonton his loving wife

From the balcony spied
Her tender husband, wond'ring mach

To see how he did ride.

"Stop, stop, John Gilpin !-Here's the house'

They all at once did cry; * The dinner waits, and we are tir'd:'

Said Gilpin—So am I!

But yet his horse was not a whit

Inclin'd to tarry there;
For why?--his owner bad a house

Full ten miles off, at Ware.

So like an arrow swift he flew,

Shot by an archer strong;
So did he fly-which brings me to

The middle of my song.

Away went Gilpin ont of breath,

And sore against his will, Till at his friend the calender's

His horse at last stood still.

The calender, amaz'd to see

His neighbour in such trim,
Laid dowu his pipe, flew to the gate,

And thus accosted bim :

• What news? what news? your tidings tell;

Tell me you must and shall--
Say why bareheaded you are come,

Or why you come at all ?

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Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit,

Aud lov'd a timely joke! And thus upto the calender

In merry guise he spoke:

“I came because your horse would come;

And, if I well forebode,
My hat and wig will soon be here,

They are upon the road.'

The calender, right glad to find

His friend in merry pin, Return'd him not a single word,

But to the house went in;

Whence straight he came with hat and wig;

A wig that flow'd behind,
A hat not much the worse for wear,

Each comely in it's kind.

He held them up, and in his turn

Thus show'd his ready wit,
My head is twice as big as yours,

They therefore needs must fit.

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'But let me scrape the dirt away,

That hangs upon your face :
And stop and eat, for well you may

Be in a hungry case.'

Said John, it is my wedding-day,

And all the world would stare, If wife should dine at Edmonton,

And I should dine at Ware.'

So turning to his horse, he said,

I am in haste to dine; 'Twas for your pleasure you came here,

You shall go back for mine.'

Ah luckless speech, and bootless boast !

For which he paid fall dear;
For, while he spake, a braying ass

Did sing most loud and clear;

Whereat his horse did snort, as he

Had heard a lion roar,
And gallop'd off with all his might,

As he had done before.

Away went Gilpin, and away

Went Gilpin's hat and wig:
He lost them sooner than at first,

For why?--they were too big.

Now mistress Gilpin, when she saw

Her husband posting down Into the country far away,

She pulld out half a crown;

And thus unto the youth she said,

That drove them to the Bell, • This shall be yours, when you bring back

My husband safe and well.'

The youth did ride, and soon did meet

John coming back amain; Whom in a trice he tried to stop,

By catching at his rein;

But not performing what he meant,

And gladly wonld have done,
The frighted steed he frighted more,

And made him faster run.

Away went Gilpin, and away

Went postboy at bis heels,
The postboy's horse right glad to miss

The Jumb'ring of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road,

Thus seeing Gilpin fly,
With postboy scamp'ring in the rear,

They rais'd the hue and cry :--
'Stop thief! stop thief !--a highwayman!'

Not one of them was mute;
And all and each that pass'd that way

Did join in the pursuit.
And now the turnpike gates again

Flew open in short space,
The toll-men thinking as before,

That Gilpin rode a race.
And so he did, and won it too,

For he got first to town;
Nor stopp'd till wliere he had got up

He did again get down.
Now let us sing, long live the king,

And Gilpin long live he;
And, when he next doth ride abroad,
May I be there to see!



STOCK, IN ESSEX. Verses addressed to a country clergyman complaining of the

disagreeableness of the day annually appointed for receiving the dues at the parsonage. COME, ponder well, for 'tis no jest,

To laugh it would be wrong, The troubles of a worthy priest,

The burden of my song.

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