I am a linen-draper bold, As all the world doth know, Quoth Mrs. Gilpin-That's well said; We will be furnish'd with our own, John Gilpin kiss'd his loving wife, That though on pleasure she was bent, She had a frugal mind. The morning came, the chaise was brought, But yet was not allow'd To drive up to the door, lest all Should say that she was proud. So three doors off the chaise was stay'd, Six precious souls, and all agog To dash through thick and thin. Smack went the whip, round went the wheel, Were never folk so glad, The stones did rattle underneath As if Cheapside were mad. John Gilpin at his horse's side Seized fast the flowing mane, And up he got in haste to ride, But soon came down again. For saddle-tree scarce reach'd had he, When turning round his head he saw So down he came, for loss of time 'Twas long before the customers Were suited to their mind, When Betty screaming came down stairs, "The wine is left behind." Good lack quoth he, yet bring it me, In which I bear my trusty sword When I do exercise. Now Mistress Gilpin, careful soul, Each bottle had a curling ear, And hung a bottle on each side Then over all, that he might be His long red cloak well brush'd and neat S. C.-9. X Now see him mounted once again Full slowly pacing o'er the stones But finding soon a smoother road So, Fair and softly, John he cried, So stooping down, as needs he must He grasp'd the mane with both his hands His horse, who never in that sort Away went Gilpin neck or nought, The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, Till loop and button failing both Then might all people well discern A bottle swinging at each side As hath been said or sung. The dogs did bark, the children scream'd, And every soul cried out, Well done! Away went Gilpin-who but he; And still as fast as he drew near, How in a trice the turnpike-men Their gates wide open threw. And now as he went bowing down 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 braced, For all might see the bottle necks Still dangling at his waist. Thus all through merry Islington And there he threw the wash about Or a wild-goose at play. At Edmonton his loving wife Her tender husband, wondering much Stop, stop, John Gilpin !-Here's the house They all at once did cry, Said Gilpin-so am I. But yet his horse was not a whit Inclined to tarry there, So like an arrow swift he flew Away went Gilpin, out of breath, Till at his friend's the Callender's |