The morning came, the chaise was brought, To drive up to the door, lest all 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 wheels Were never folks so glad; The stones did rattle underneath, As if Cheapside were mad. John Gilpin at his horse's side For saddletree 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, My leathern belt likewise, In which I bear my trusty sword Now Mistress Gilpin (careful soul!) Each bottle had a curling ear, Then over all, that he might be His long red cloak, well brush'd and neat, 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 naught; The wind did blow- the cloak did fly, Like streamer long and gay; Till, loop and button failing both, At last it flew away. 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, Up flew the windows all; ་ And every soul cried out, "Well done!" As loud as he could bawl. His fame soon spread around 66 He carries weight! he rides a race! "Tis for a thousand pound!" And still as fast as he drew near, And now, as he went bowing down Down ran the wine into the road, 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 Of Edmonton so gay; And there he threw the wash about At Edmonton his loving wife From the balcony spied Her tender husband, wondering much 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 tired: " But yet his horse was not a whit For why? - his owner had a house So like an arrow swift he flew, So did he fly which brings me to The middle of my song. Away went Gilpin out of breath, Till at his friend's the calender's The calender, amazed to see |