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So, stooping down, as needs he must

Who cannot sit upright, He grasp'd the mane with both his hands;

And eke with all his might.

His horse, who never in that fort

Had handled been before,
What thing upon his back had got

Did wonder more and more.

Away went Gilpin, neck or wought;

Away went hat and wig!-
He little dreamt, when he set out,

Of running such a rig!

The wind did blow, the cloke did fly,

Like streamer long and gay, Till, loop and button failing both,

At last it flew away.

Then might all people well discern

The bottles he had Nung;
A bottle swinging at each fide,

As hath been said or sung.

The dogs did bark, the children scream'd,

Up flew the windows all ;
And ev'ry soul cried out-Well done!

As loud as he could bawl.

Away went Gilpin--whọ but he?

His fame soon spread around He carries weight ! he rides a race !

'Tis for a thousand pound !

And fill, as fast as he drew near,

'Twas wonderful to view How in a trice the turnpike-men Their gates wide open


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 piteous 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 Illington

These gambols he did play, And till he came unto the Wash

Of Edmonton so gay,

And there he threw the wash about

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

Or a wild goofe at play.

At Edmonton his loving wife

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

To see how he did ride.

Stop, stop, John Gilpin ! -Here's the houfen

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 had a house

Full ten miles off, at Ware.

So like an arrow swift he few,

Shot by an archer strong;
So did he fly—which brings me ia

The middle of my song.

Away went Gilpin, out of breath,

And fore 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, aid down his pipe, flew to the gate, And thus accosted him :

Tell me you

Vhat news ? what news ? your tidings tell

must and shallay why bare-headed you are come, Or why you come at all.

Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit,

And lov'd a timely joke! And thus unto the calender

In merry guife he fpoke:

I came because your horfe would come;

And, if I well forebode,
My hat and wig will foon 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 its kind.

He held them up, and, in his turn,

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

They therefore needs mult fit.

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