'Twas long before the customers

Were fuited 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 likewife

In which I bear my trusty fword

When I do exercife.

!

Now Mistress Gilpin, careful foul,
Had two stone bottles found,

To hold the liquor that fhe loved,
And keep it fafe and found.

Each bottle had a curling ear,

Through which the belt he drew,
And hung a bottle on each fide

To make his balance true.

Then

Then over all, that he might be

Equipp'd from top to toe,

His long red cloak well brush'd and neat,

He manfully did throw.

Now fee him mounted once again

Upon his nimble steed,

Full flowly pacing o'er the stones
With caution and good heed.

But finding foon a smoother road
Beneath his well-fhod feet,

The fnorting beast began to trot,
Which gall'd him in his feat.

So, Fair and foftly, John he cried,
But John he cried in vain,

That trot became a gallop foon

In fpite of curb and reina

So

So ftooping down, as needs he muft

Who cannot fit upright,

He grafp'd the mane with both his hands
And eke with all his might.

His horfe, 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 nought,
Away went hat and wig,

He little dreamt when he fet out

Of running fuch a rig.

The wind did blow, the cloak did fly,
Like ftreamer long and gay,

'Till loop and button failing both

At laft it flew away.

Then

Then might all people well difcern

The bottles he had flung,

A bottle fwinging at each fide

As hath been faid or fung.

The dogs did bark, the children scream'd, Up flew the windows all,

And ev'ry foul cried out, Well done!

As loud as he could bawl.

Away went Gilpin-who but he;
His fame foon spread around-

He carries weight, he rides a race,
'Tis for a thousand pound.

And ftill as faft as he drew near,

'Twas wonderful to view

How in a trice the turnpike-men

Their gates wide open threw.

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 feen,

Which made his horfe's flanks to fmoke

As they had bafted been.

But still he feem'd to carry weight,

With leathern girdle brac'd,

For all might fee the bottle necks
Still dangling at his waist.

Thus all through merry Iflington
These gambols he did play,

And till he came unto the Wash

Of Edmonton fo gay.

And