Full slowly pacing o'er the stones

With caution and good heed.

But finding foon a smoother road

Beneath his well-fhod feet, The snorting beast began to trot,

Which gall’d him in his feat.

So, Fair and softly, John he cried,

But John he cried in vain,
That trot became a gallop soon,

In spite of curb and rein.
So stooping down, as needs he must

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

And eke with all his might.

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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 nought,

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

Of running such a rig.

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

The bottles he had flung; 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 ev'ry foul cried out, Well done!

As loud as he could bawl,

Away went Gilpin-who but he ;

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

'Tis for a thousand pound !

Bnd still as fast 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 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 feem'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 Islington

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

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At Edmonton his loving wife

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

To see how he did ride.

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

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 flew,

Shot by an archer strong ;
So did he fly-which brings me to

The middle of my song.

Away went Gilpin, out of breath,

And fore against his will, Till at his friend's the Callender's

His horse at last stood foill.

The Callender, amaz’d 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 lov'd 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 strait 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.

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