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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 postboy at his heels,

The postboy's horse right glad to miss
The lumbering of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,

With postboy scampering in the rear,
They raised the hue and cry:-

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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.

252

THE HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN.

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 YEARLY DISTRESS;

OR,

TITHING TIME AT STOCK IN ESSEX.

Verses addressed to a Country Clergyman complaining of the Disagreeableness of the Day annually appointed for receiving the Dues at the Parsonage.

COME, ponder well, for 'tis no jest,
To laugh it would be wrong;
The troubles of a worthy priest,
The burden of my song.

The priest he merry is and blithe
Three quarters of the year,
But oh! it cuts him like a sithe
When tithing-time draws near.

He then is full of frights and fears,
As one at point to die,
And long before the day appears
He heaves up many a sigh.

For then the farmers come, jog, jog,
Along the miry road,

Each heart as heavy as a log,

To make their payments good,

In sooth, the sorrow of such days

Is not to be express'd,

When he that takes and he that pays
Are both alike distress'd.

Now all unwelcome at his gates
The clumsy swains alight,
With rueful faces and bald pates-
He trembles at the sight.

And well he may, for well he knows
Each bumpkin of the clan,
Instead of paying what he owes,
Will cheat him if he can.

So in they come-each makes his leg,
And flings his head before,
And looks as if he came to beg,

And not to quit a score.

And how does miss and madam do,

The little boy and all?'

'All tight and well. And how do you, Good Mr. What-d'ye-call?'

The dinner comes, and down they sit:
Were e'er such hungry folk?
There's little talking, and no wit;
It is no time to joke.

One wipes his nose upon his sleeve,
One spits upon the floor,

Yet, not to give offence or grieve,
Holds up the cloth before.

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