For why? If he should get a fall,

He was of such a weight,

The rugged road would bruise his flesh,
Perhaps might prove his fate.

She therefore did the post boy send,

As has been said before,

In hopes the horse that he might stop
And Gilpin safe restore.

He went, and how he sped we know,
Therefore, we now shall tell

Of other things at Edmonton
Which happen'd at the Bell.

The dinner waited-would be spoil'd--
If not serv'd up in time,-

They thought to waste such dainty fare,

Would surely be a crime.

Therefore t'was order'd in with speed,
For Mrs. Gilpin said,

""Twould be a shame not now to eat,
"As we have for it paid."

Yes!-Paid it was,-for careful she,
From London sent it down,—

Convinced, no marketing could be

So clever as her own.

She had a frugal thought in this
Which plainly doth appear,
Which was,-if they provided it,
It would be plaguy dear.

For landlords', well she prophesied,

Would ample profit take,

And, out of what it cost at first,

At least would double make.

Therefore, she sent a sav'ry hock,
A fillet, nice and white,-
With fowls and other dainty things
The palate to delight.

And now around the table see,

The family all sit;

But against John's return she thought,

She would put by a bit.

All cover'd up to keep it warm,
Her tenderness to prove,
For Gilpin never had a doubt,

About his dearest love.

Though John was absent, yet they plied,
Their knives and forks with skill,
And with each vari'd dish that came,
Their plates did often fill.

Good ale, decanter'd fine and clear,
Was brought while they did dine,
But afterwards they judged it right,
To have a glass of wine.

Lamenting much their own forgot,
For yet they did not know,

That the stone bottles John had brought,
Were shatter'd at a blow.

But chance, or fate, or what you will,

Attended each that day,

For Miss the bottle tumbled down,

The wine ran all away.

This was a circumstance indeed,

Made Mrs. Gilpin sad,

Because she knew it must be paid,
But t'other quart was had.

John Gilpin's health was handed round, "I wish my dearest dear," (Cried Mrs. Gilpin as she drank,) "My honest John was here."

And here he was, just as she spoke,
Bareheaded as before,

Upon his horse which went with speed,
Close to the house once more.

66

The people cried again “a race,"

Which brought them out to view, And there her spouse again she saw, With those who did pursue.

In vain she called, "John Gilpin, stop!

In air her words were lost,

Sure none upon their wedding day,

Were e'er before so crost.

Her heart again began to beat,

And tears bedimm'd each eye,

She call'd the bill, resolv'd soon,
She after him would fly.

She call'd the bill and read it o'er,

Surpris'd it was so large,

And thought the landlord much to blame,

In making such a charge.

Expostulation was in vain,

Her purse must pay the fine,

Still, in her mind she vow'd no more,

At Edmonton to dine.

But those who're frugally inclin'd,
The main chance keep in view,
And will in every thing they can,
Economy pursue.

So, Mrs. Gilpin thought it best,

Remains to take away,

As what she for her husband left,
Might serve another day.

The sav'ry hock-the veal so white,
Each dislocated chick,
Besmear'd with gravy relishing,

At night she thought to pick.

The children with their mother's plan,
Agreed with all their hearts,
And folded in their handkerchiefs,

The remnant of the tarts.

The bill was paid—the waiter too

Had sixpence for his care, And now again they all set out,

All in a chaise and pair.

"Drive gently William on the road,
"And ask as you go on,

"If you can gain intelligence,
"Of my good husband John."

The sun was hasting to the west,
Soft zephyrs fann'd the trees,
The birds sung sweet on every bush,
The fancy for to please.

The prospect round was sweet to sight,
The hills, and dales, and plains,
Gave to their minds the charming thought,
Of rural nymphs and swains.

But neither birds, nor rural plains,

Could Mrs. Gilpin charm,

For fear, alas! her honest John,
Should come to any harm.

Now some who join'd the hue and cry,

Were coming back again, Who full of fun and wicked wit,

But added to her pain.

"How fares John Gilpin?" cries the man,

As he was bid to do,

"Why he has broke his neck," they cried, And vow'd that it was true.

The word was caught by all around,

66

And all around did speak,

The city linendraper 's dead,"

"John Gilpin's broke his neck!"