And now, as he went bowing down Down ran the wine into the road, Which made his horse's flanks to smoke But still he seemed to carry weight, Thus all through merry Islington And there he threw the Wash about At Edmonton his loving wife Her tender husband, wondering much To see how he did ride. 'Stop, stop, John Gilpin !-Here's the house!" They all at once did cry; 'The dinner waits, and we are tired;' Said Gilpin- So am I!' But yet his horse was not a whit For why?-his owner had a house Full ten miles off at Ware. So like an arrow swift he flew, So did he fly-which brings me to Away went Gilpin, out of breath, The calender, amazed 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 bareheaded you are come, Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, 'I came because your horse would come, And, if I well forebode, My hat and wig will soon be here,- The calender, right glad to find Whence straight he came with hat and wig; A wig that flowed behind, A hat not much the worse for wear, 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, '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, while he spake, a braying ass Whereat his horse did snort, as he And galloped off with all his might, Away went Gilpin, and away Went Gilpin's hat and wig; Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw She pulled 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 again: Whom in a trice he tried to stop, By catching at his rein; But not performing what he meant, Away went Gilpin, and away Went postboy at his heels, The postboy's horse right glad to miss Six gentlemen upon the road, Thus seeing Gilpin fly, With postboy scampering in the rear, They raised the hue and cry: 'Stop thief! stop thief!-a highwayman!' Not one of them was mute; And all and each that passed that way And now the turnpike gates again Flew open in short space; That Gilpin rode a race. And so he did, and won it too, For he got first to town; Nor stopped till where he had got up Now let us sing, Long live the King! And when he next doth ride abroad 325 RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN DRINKING SONG HERE'S to the maiden of bashful fifteen, Here's to the flaunting extravagant quean, Chorus. Let the toast pass, Drink to the lass, I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass. Here's to the charmer, whose dimples we prize, Here's to the maid with a bosom of snow, For let 'em be clumsy, or let 'em be slim, I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass. |