Some owners win, although their gee

In temper be a "villen;"

As that is not the sort for me,

I favour "Enniskillen."

So fair and softly! JOHNNY cried,

But JOHNNY cried in vain;

That trot became a gallop soon,

In spite of curb and rein.

So, stooping down, as needs he must

Who cannot sit upright,

He grasped the mane with both his hands,

And eke with all his might.

Away went GILPIN neck or nought,

Away went hat and wig;

He little dreamt when he set out

Of running such a rig.

The wind did blow, the cloak did fly

Like streamer long and gay,

Till people thought, and JOHN half feared,

That it might fly away.

Then might all gazers well discern

The bottles he had slung;

A bottle swinging at each side,

As hath been said or sung.

Away went GILPIN—who but he?

His fame soon spread around;

"He carries weight! He rides a race!"

"He'll win it, we'll be bound!"

Then all through merry London Town,

These gambols he did play;

Until he came to rural parts,

Where rustics lined the way.

There labourers shouted, women screamed,

Up flew the felt-hats all;

And every yokel yelled, "Well done!"

As loud as he could bawl.

Away went GILPIN, out of breath,

And fearing much a "spill;"

But knowing till his race was run

His horse would not stand still.

His hat was gone, his W(h)ig also,

His cloak he had to clutch.

Could he hold on? A mile or two

Would put it to the touch.

A church-bell clanging, scared his steed,

Pigs dashed betwixt its feet;

And on his own beloved North Road,

JOHN almost lost his seat.

On the North Road, his sometime friends,

Their sometime favourite spied,

Well-nigh dismounted, wondering much,

To see how he did ride.

"Ride straight, JOHN GILPIN—for the House!"

JOHN's Liberal Dame did cry.

"The Party waits, and we feel tired."

Said GILPIN—"So do I!"

But yet his horse was not a whit

Inclined due North to stay;

For why?—his stables at the House

Were out Westminster way.

So like an arrow swift he flew

Back southward through the throng,

Who shouted loud, "He yet will win!

JOHN GILPIN's going strong!"

And now Town's traffic once again

For horse and man made space,

The drivers thinking, as before,

That GILPIN rode a race.

And so he did—and won it, too,

For he got first to Town;

And, stiff and sore, at the House door,

Bare winner, he got down.

Now let us sing, Long live the QUEEN,

And GILPIN, long live he!

And when he next doth ride due North,

May we be there to see!