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JOHN GILPIN was a citizen
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Of credit and renown,
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A train-band captain eke was he
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Of famous London town.
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John Gilpin’s spouse said to her dear,
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‘Though wedded we have been
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These twice ten tedious years, yet we
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No holiday have seen.
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‘To-morrow is our wedding-day,
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And we will then repair
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Unto the Bell at Edmonton,
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All in a chaise and pair.
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‘My sister, and my sister’s child,
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Myself, and children three,
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Will fill the chaise; so you must ride
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On horseback after we.’
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He soon replied, ‘I do admire
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Of womankind but one,
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And you are she, my dearest dear,
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Therefore it shall be done.
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‘I am a linen-draper bold,
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As all the world doth know,
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And my good friend the calender
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Will lend his horse to go.’
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Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, ‘That’s well said;
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And for that wine is dear,
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We will be furnished with our own,
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Which is both bright and clear.’
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John Gilpin kissed his loving wife;
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O’erjoyed was he to find,
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That though on pleasure she was bent,
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She had a frugal mind.
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The morning came, the chaise was brought,
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But yet was not allowed
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To drive up to the door, lest all
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Should say that she was proud.
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So three doors off the chaise was stayed,
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Where they did all get in;
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Six precious souls, and all agog
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To dash through thick and thin.
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Smack went the whip, round went the wheels,
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Were never folk so glad,
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The stones did rattle underneath,
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As if Cheapside were mad.
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John Gilpin at his horse’s side
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Seized fast the flowing mane,
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And up he got, in haste to ride,
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But soon came down again;
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For saddle-tree scarce reached had be,
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His journey to begin,
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When, turning round his head, he saw
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Three customers come in.
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So down he came; for loss of time,
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Although it grieved him sore,
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Yet loss of pence, full well he knew,
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Would trouble him much more.
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’Twas long before the customers
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Were suited to their mind,
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When Betty screaming came down stairs,
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‘The wine is left behind!’
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‘Good lack,’ quoth he—‘yet bring it me,
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My leathern belt likewise,
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In which I bear my trusty sword,
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When I do exercise.’
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Now Mistress Gilpin (careful soul!)
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Had two stone bottles found,
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To hold the liquor that she loved,
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And keep it safe and sound.
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Each bottle had a curling ear,
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Through which the belt he drew,
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And hung a bottle on each side,
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To make his balance true.
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Then over all, that he might be
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Equipped from top to toe,
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His long red cloak, well brushed and neat;
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He manfully did throw.
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Now see him mounted once again
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Upon his nimble steed,
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Full slowly pacing o’er the stones,
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With caution and good heed.
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But finding soon a smoother road
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Beneath his well-shod feet,
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The snorting beast began to trot,
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Which galled him in his seat.
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So, ‘Fair and softly,’ John he cried,
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But John he called in vain;
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That trot became a gallop soon,
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In spite of curb and rein.
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So stooping down as needs he must
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Who cannot sit upright,
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He grasped the mane with both his hands,
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And eke with all his might.
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His horse, who never in that sort
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Had handled been before,
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What thing upon his back had got
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Did wonder more and more.
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Away went Gilpin, neck or nought;
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Away went hat and wig;
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He little dreamt, when he set out,
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Of running such a rig.
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The wind did blow, the cloak did fly,
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Like streamer long and gay,
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Till, loop and button failing both,
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At last it flew away.
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Then might all people well discern
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The bottles he had slung;
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A bottle swinging at each side.
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As hath been said or sung.
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The dogs did bark, the children screamed,
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Up flew the windows all;
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And every soul cried out, ‘Well done!’
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As loud as he could bawl.
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Away went Gilpin—who but he?
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His fame soon spread around;
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‘He carries weight! He rides a race!’
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‘’Tis for a thousand pound!’
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And still, as fast as he drew near,
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’Twas wonderful to view,
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How in a trice the turnpike-men
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Their gates wide open threw.
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And now, as he went bowing down
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His reeking head full low,
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The bottles twain behind his back
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Were shattered at a blow.
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Down ran the wine into the road,
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Most piteous to be seen,
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Which made his horse’s flanks to smoke
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As they had basted been.
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But still he seemed to carry weight,
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With leathern girdle braced;
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For all might see the bottle-necks
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Still dangling at his waist.
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Thus all through merry Islington
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These gambols he did play,
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Until he came unto the Wash
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Of Edmonton so gay;
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And there he threw the Wash about
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On both sides of the way,
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Just like unto a trundling mop,
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Or a wild goose at play.
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At Edmonton his loving wife
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From the balcony spied
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Her tender husband, wondering much
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To see how he did ride.
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‘Stop, stop, John Gilpin!—Here’s the house!’
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They all at once did cry;
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‘The dinner waits, and we are tired;’—
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Said Gilpin—‘So am I!’
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But yet his horse was not a whit
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Inclined to tarry there!
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For why?—his owner had a house
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Full ten miles off at Ware.
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So like an arrow swift he flew,
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Shot by an archer strong;
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So did he fly—which brings me to
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The middle of my song.
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Away went Gilpin, out of breath,
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And sore against his will,
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Till at his friend the calender’s
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His horse at last stood still.
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The calender, amazed to see
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His neighbour in such trim,
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Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate,
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And thus accosted him:
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‘What news? what news? your tidings tell;
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Tell me you must and shall—
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Say why bareheaded you are come,
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Or why you come at all?’
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Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit,
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And loved a timely joke;
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And thus unto the calender
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In merry guise he spoke:
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‘I came because your horse would come,
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And, if I well forebode,
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My hat and wig will soon be here,—
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They are upon the road.’
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The calender, right glad to find
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His friend in merry pin,
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Returned him not a single word,
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But to the house went in;
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Whence straight he came with hat and wig;
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A wig that flowed behind,
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A hat not much the worse for wear,
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Each comely in its kind.
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He held them up, and in his turn
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Thus showed his ready wit,
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‘My head is twice as big as yours,
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They therefore needs must fit.
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‘But let me scrape the dirt away
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That hangs upon your face;
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And stop and eat, for well you may
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Be in a hungry case.’
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Said John, ‘It is my wedding day,
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And all the world would stare,
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If wife should dine at Edmonton,
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And I should dine at Ware.’
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So turning to his horse, he said,
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‘I am in haste to dine;
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’Twas for your pleasure you came here,
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You shall go back for mine.’
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Ah, luckless speech, and bootless boast!
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For which he paid full dear;
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For, while he spake, a braying ass
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Did sing most loud and clear;
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Whereat his horse did snort, as he
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Had heard a lion roar,
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And galloped off with all his might,
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As he had done before.
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Away went Gilpin, and away
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Went Gilpin’s hat and wig;
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He lost them sooner than at first;
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For why?—they were too big.
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Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw
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Her husband posting down
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Into the country far away,
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She pulled out half a crown;
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And thus unto the youth she said
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That drove them to the Bell,
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‘This shall be yours, when you bring back
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My husband safe and well.’
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The youth did ride, and soon did meet
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John coming back again:
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Whom in a trice he tried to stop,
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By catching at his rein;
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But not performing what he meant,
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And gladly would have done,
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The frighted steed he frighted more,
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And made him faster run.
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Away went Gilpin, and away
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Went postboy at his heels,
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The postboy’s horse right glad to miss
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The lumbering of the wheels.
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Six gentlemen upon the road,
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Thus seeing Gilpin fly,
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With postboy scampering in the rear,
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They raised the hue and cry:
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‘Stop thief! stop thief!—a highwayman!’
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Not one of them was mute;
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And all and each that passed that way
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Did join in the pursuit.
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And now the turnpike gates again
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Flew open in short space;
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The toll-men thinking, as before,
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That Gilpin rode a race.
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And so he did, and won it too,
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For he got first to town;
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Nor stopped till where he had got up
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He did again get down.
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Now let us sing, Long live the King!
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And Gilpin, long live he!
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And when he next doth ride abroad
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May I be there to see!
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