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 ftones
With caution and good heed.

But finding foon a fmoother 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 rein.

So

So ftooping down, as needs he must

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 streamer 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 fpread around-

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

And now as he went bowing down

His reeking head full low,

The bottles twain behind his back

Were fhatter'd at a blow.

Down ran the wine into the road,

Moft piteous to be seen,

Which made his horfe's flanks to finoke

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 waift.

Thus all through merry Islington
Thefe gambois he did play,

And till he came unto the Wash

Of Edmonton fo gay.

And

And there he threw the wash about

On both fides of the way,

Juft like unto a trundling mop,

Or a wild goofe at play.

At Edmonton his loving wife

From the balcony fpied

Her tender husband, wond'ring much

To fee how he did ride.

Stop, ftop, John Gilpin !-Here's the houfe

They all at once did cry;

The dinner waits, and we are tir'd :

Said Gilpin-So am I.