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Smack went the whip, round went the wheels,
Were never folk so glad,
As if Cheapside were mad.
John Gilpin at his horse's side
Seized fast the flowing mané, And up he got, in haste to ride,
But soon came down again;
For saddle-tree scarce reached had he,
His journey to begin,
Three customers come in.
So down he came; for loss of time,
Although it grieved him sore,
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 heyet bring it me,
My leathern belt likewise,
When I do exercise.
Now mistress Gilpin (careful soul!)
Had two stone bottles found, To hold the liquor that she loved,
And keep it safe and sound.
Each bottle had a curling car,
Through which the belt he drew, And hung a bottle on each side,
To make his balance true.
Then over all, that he'night be
Equipped from top to toe,
He 'manfully did throw.
Now see him mounted once again
Upon his nimble steed,
With caution and good heed.
But finding soon a smoother road
Beneath his well-shod feet, The snorting beast began to trot,
Which galled him in his seat.
So, Pair and softly, John he cried,
But John he cried in vain; That trot became a gallop soon,
In spite of curb and rein.
So stooping down, as needs he must
W'ho cannot sit upright, He grasped the mane with both his hands,
And eke with all his might.
His horse, who never in that sort
Had handled been before,
Did wonder more and more.
Away went Gilpin, neck or nought;
Away went hat and wig;
Of running such a rig.
The wind did blow, the cloak did Ay,
Like streamer long and gay, Till, loop and button failing both,
At last it flew away.
Then might all people well discern
The bottles he had slung;
As hath been said or sung.
The dogs did bark, the children screamed,
Up flew the windows all;
As loud as he could bawl.
Away went Gilpin-who but be!
His fame soon spread around, He carries weight! be rides a race!
'Tis for a thousand pound !
And still, as fast as he drew near,
'Twas wouderful to view How in a trice the turnpike men Their gates wide open
And now, as he went bowing down
His reeking head full low,
Were shattered at a blow.
Down ran the wine into the road,
Most piteous to be seen, Which made his horse's ianks to smoke
As they had basted been.
But still he seemed to carry weight,
With leatbern girdle braced; For all might see the bottle-necks
Still dangling at his waist.
Thus all through merry Islington
These gambols be did play, Until he came unto the Wash
Of Edmonton so gay
And there he threw the wash about
On both sides of the way, Just like unto a trundling mop,
Or a wild goose at play.
At Edmonton his loving wife
From the balcony spied
To see how he did ride.
Stop, stop, John Gilpin! Here's the house
They all aloud did cry;
Said Gilpin-So am I!
But yet his horse was not a whit
Inclined to tarry there;
Full ten miles off at Ware.
So like an arrow swift he few,
Shot by an archer strong;
The middle of my sóng.
Away went Gilpip out of breath,
And sore against his will, Till at his friend the calender's
His horse at last stood still.