I came because your horse would come; And if I well forebode, My hat and wig will soon be here, The Callender, right glad to find Whence straight he came with hat and wig, 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, 'Twas for your pleasure you came here, Ah luckless speech, and bootless boast! Whereat his horse did snort as he And gallop'd off with all his might S. c.-6. Away went Gilpin, and away Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw She pull'd 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 The youth did ride, and soon did meet But not performing what he meant, Away went Gilpin, and away Went post-boy at his heels, The post-boy's horse right glad to miss. Six gentlemen upon the road With post-boy scampering in the rear, Stop thief, stop thief-a highwayman! And now the turnpike gates again The toll-men thinking as before That Gilpin rode a race. And so he did, and won it too, Nor stopp'd till where he had got up Now let us sing, Long live the king, And Gilpin long live he, And when he next doth ride abroad, THE DISTRESSED TRAVELLERS; OR, LABOUR IN VAIN. An excellent New Song, to a Tune never sung before. 1. I SING of a journey to Clifton, We would have perform'd if we could, Poor Mary and me through the mud; Stuck in the mud, Oh it is pretty to wade through a flood! 2. So away we went, slipping and sliding, Go briskly about, But they clatter and rattle, and make such a rout! 3. SHE. Well! now I protest it is charming HE. Pshaw! never mind; 'Tis not in the wind; We are travelling south, and shall leave it behind. 4. SHE. I am glad we are come for an airing, HE. The longer we stay, The longer we may; It's a folly to think about weather or way. 5. SHE. But now I begin to be frighted; I If I fall, what a way I should roll! HE. Nay, never care ! "Tis a common affair; You'll not be the last that will set a foot there. 6. SHE. Let me breathe now a little, and ponder On what it were better to do. That terrible lane, I see yonder, I think we shall never get through! HE. So think I ; But, by the bye, We never shall know, if we never should try. 7. SHE. But should we get there, how shall we get home? Now it is plain That struggling and striving is labour in vain. 8. HE. Stick fast there, while I go and look. SHE. Don't go away, for fear I should fall! HE. I have examined it every nook, And what you have here is a sample of all. The dirt we have found Would be an estate at a farthing a pound. 9. Now, Sister Anne, the guitar you must take; Which critics won't blame, For the sense and the sound, they say, should be the same. A TALE, FOUNDED ON A FACT, WHICH HAPPENED IN JANUARY, 1779. WHERE Humber pours his rich commercial stream, Black as the mine, in which he wrought for bread. |