He soon replied "I do admire Of womankind but one, And you are she, my dearest dear, Therefore it shall be done. "I am a linendraper bold, As all the world doth know, Quoth Mrs. Gilpin,-"That's well said; We will be furnished with our own, John Gilpin kissed his loving wife; That, though on pleasure she was bent, She had a frugal mind. The morning came, the chaise was brought, To drive up to the door, lest all Should say that she was proud. So three doors off the chaise was stayed, Where they did all get in; Six precious souls, and all agog To dash through thick and thin. Smack went the whip, round went the wheels, Were never folk so glad, The stones did rattle underneath, As if Cheapside 2 were mad. 1. Calender. One who runs a calender, a machine to press cloth between rollers to glaze it. 2. Cheapside. One of the principal streets of London. John Gilpin at his horse's side For saddletree scarce reached had he, When, turning round his head, he saw So down he came; for loss of time, 'T was 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!) To hold the liquor that she loved, Each bottle had a curling ear, Then over all, that he might be Equipped from top to toe, His long red cloak, well brushed and neat, He manfully did throw. 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 He grasped the mane with both his hands His horse, who never in that sort 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, Till, loop and button failing both, At last it flew away. Then might all people well discern The dogs did bark, the children screamed, And every soul cried out, "Well done!" Away went Gilpin-who but he? His fame soon spread around; "He carries weight!" "He rides a race!” ""T is for a thousand pound!" And still as fast as he drew near, And now, as he went bowing down 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 seemed to carry weight, With leathern girdle braced; For all might see the bottle necks Thus all through merry Islington, And there he threw the Wash about, Just like unto a trundling mop, Or a wild goose at play. At Edmonton, his loving wife From the balcony spied 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 Inclined to tarry there; For why? his owner had a house So like an arrow swift he flew |