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The Callender amazed to see

His neighbour in such trim,

Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate,
And thus accosted him—

What news? what news? your tidings tell,
Tell me you must and shall—
Say why bare-headed you are come,
Or why you come at all?

Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit
And loved a timely joke,
And thus unto the Callender
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 Callender, 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 wit,

-My head is twice as big as yours,
They therefore needs must fit.

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 full 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 pull'd 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 would have done,
The frighted steed he frighted more
And made him faster run.

Away went Gilpin, and away

Went post-boy at his heels,

The post-boy's horse right glad to miss
The lumbering of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,

With post-boy scampering in the rear,
They raised 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 where 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!

THE DISTRESSED TRAVELLERS;

OR,

LABOUR IN VAIN.

An excellent New Song, to a Tune never sung before.

1.

I SING of a journey to Clifton,

We would have perform'd if we could,
Without cart or barrow to lift on

Poor Mary and me through the mud;
Slee sla slud,

Stuck in the mud,

Oh it is pretty to wade through a flood!

2.

So away we went, slipping and sliding,
Hop, hop, a la mode de deux frogs.
'Tis near as good walking as riding,
When ladies are dress'd in their clogs.
Wheels, no doubt,

Go briskly about,

But they clatter and rattle, and make such a rout!

3. SHE.

Well! now I protest it is charming;
How finely the weather improves !
That cloud, though, is rather alarming;
How slowly and stately it moves!
HE.

Pshaw! never mind;

'Tis not in the wind;

We are travelling south, and shall leave it behind.

4. SHE.

I am glad we are come for an airing,
For folks may be pounded and penn'd,
Until they grow rusty, not caring
To stir half a mile to an end.

HE.

The longer we stay,

The longer we may;

It's a folly to think about weather or way.

5. SHE.

But now I begin to be frighted:

If I fall, what a way I should roll!
I am glad that the bridge was indicted.—
Stop! stop! I am sunk in a hole!

HE.

Nay, never care!

'Tis a common affair;

You'll not be the last that will set a foot there.

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