Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, That's well said; We will be furnish'd with our own, John Gilpin kiss'd his loving wife; That though on pleasure she was bent, 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 Seized fast the flowing mane, And up he got, in haste to ride, For saddle-tree scarce reach'd had he, When, turning round his head, he saw So down he came; for loss of time, Would trouble him much more. '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, Who cannot sit upright, He grasp'd the mane with both his hands, And eke with all his might. His horse, who never in that sort Had handled been before, What thing upon his back had got Away went Gilpin, neck or nought; He little dreamt, when he set out, The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, Then might all people well discern The dogs did bark, the children scream'd, And every soul cried out, Well done! Away went Gilpin-who but he? And still, as fast as he drew near, 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 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 And there he threw the wash about At Edmonton his loving wife Her tender husband, wondering much Stop, stop, John Gilpin !-Here's the house- The dinner waits, and we are tired; Said Gilpin-So am I! But yet his horse was not a whit Inclined to tarry there; For why his owner had a house So like an arrow swift he flew, Away went Gilpin out of breath, The calender, amazed to see 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 bareheaded you are come, Or why you come at all? Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, I came because your horse would come; My hat and wig will soon be here, They are upon the road. The calender, right glad to find Whence straight he came with hat and wig; He held them up, and in his turn But let me scrape the dirt away, Said John, It is my wedding-day, So turning to his horse, he said, 'Twas for your pleasure you came here, Ah luckless speech, and bootless boast! For, while he spake, a braying ass |