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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 ! 145

They all at once did cry; “The dinner waits, and we are tired:'

Said Gilpin—'So am I!'

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"What news? what news ? your tidings tell;

Tell me you must and shall-
Say why bareheaded you are come,

Or why you come at all?'


Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit,

And loved a timely joke; And thus unto the calender,

In merry guise, he spoke:

'I came because your horse would come;

And, if I well forebode,
My hat and wig will soon be here, -

They are upon the road.'


The calender, right glad to find

His friend in merry pin, Returned him not a single word,

But to the house went in;


Whence straight he came with hat and wig;

A wig that flowed behind,
A hat not much the worse for wear,

Each comely in its kind.

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So turning to his "horse, he said,

'I am in haste to dine; 'Twas for your pleasure you came here,

You shall go back for mine.'


Ah! luckless speech, and bootless boast,

For which he paid full dear; For while he spake, a braying ass

Did sing most loud and clear;

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And thus unto the youth she said,

That drove them to the Bell, "This shall be yours, when you bring back

My husband safe and well.'


The youth did ride, and soon did meet

John coming back amain; Whom in a trice he tried to stop

By catching at his rein;


But not performing what he meant,

And gladly would have done,
The frighted steed he frighted more,

And made him faster run.


Away went Gilpin, and away

Went postboy at his heels,
The postboy's horse right glad to miss

The lumbering of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road,

Thus seeing Gilpin fly,
With postboy scampering in the rear,

They raised the hue and cry:


Stop thief! stop thief !-a highwayman!'

Not one of them was mute;
And all and each that passed that way

Did join in the pursuit.


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HERE lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,

Nor swifter greyhound follow,
Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,

Nor ear heard huntsman's halloo;


Old Tiny, surliest of his kind,

Who, nursed with tender care, And to domestic bounds confined,

Was still a wild Jack hare.


Though duly from my hand he took

His piţtance every night,
He did it with a jealous look,

And, when he could, would bite.

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Eight years and five round-rolling moons

He thus saw steal away, Dozing out all his idle noons,

And every night at play.


I kept him for his humour's sake,

For he would oft beguile
My heart of thoughts that made it ache,

And force me to a smile.


But now, beneath this walnut shade,

He finds his long, last home,
And waits, in snug concealment laid,

Till gentler Puss shall come.


He, still more aged, feels the shocks,

From which no care can save, And partner once of Tiny's box,

Must soon partake his grave.

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