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Now, mistress Gilpin, when she faw

Her husband posting down Into the country far away,

She pulld out half a crown;

And thus unto the youth The faid

That drove them to the Bell-
This shall be your's when you bring back

My husband safe and well.

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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 (teed he frighted more,

And made him faster run.

Away went Gilpin, and away

Went poft-boy at his heels!
The post-boy's horse right glad to mifs

The lumb'ring of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road,

Thus seeing Gilpin fly,
With poft-boy scamp'ring in the rear,

They rais'd the hue and cry:

Stop thief! stop thief!-a highwayman!

Not one of them was mute; And all and each that pass'd that way

Did join in the pursuit.

And now the turnpike gates again

Flew open in short space;
The toll-men thinking, as before,

That Gilpin rode a race.

And so he didmand won it too!-

For he got first to town;
Nor stopp'd till where he had got up

He did again get down.

Now let us fing-Long live the king,

And Gilpin long live he;
And, when he next doth ride abroad,
May I be there to see!

Z

VOL. 11.

THE YEARLY DISTRESS,

OR

TITHING TIME AT STOCK IN ESSEX:

Verses addressed to a Country Clergyman complaining the disagreeableness of the day annually appointed for

receiving the Dues at the Parsonage.

Come, ponder well, for ’tis no jest,

To laugh it would be wrong, The troubles of a worthy priest

The burden of my song.

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This priest he merry is and blithe

Three quarters of the year, But oh! it cuts him like a sithe

When tithing time draws near.

He then is full of fright and fears,

As one at point to die,
And long before the day appears

He heaves up many a figh.

For then the farmers come jog, jog,

Along the miry road, Each heart, as heavy as a log,

To make their payments good.

In sooth, the sorrow of such days

Is not to be express’d, When he that takes and he that pays

Are both alike distress’d.

Now all, unwelcome, at his gates

The clumsy swains alight,
With rueful faces and bald pates-

He trembles at the fight.

And well he may, for well he knows

Each bumpkin of the clan, Instead of paying what he owes,

Will cheat him if he can.

So in they come each makes his leg,

And flings his head before, And looks as if he came to beg, And not to quit a score.

"And how does miss and madam dn,

* The little boy and all?'' *All tight and well. And how do you,

• Good Mr. What-d'ye-call?'

The dinner comes, and down they fit:

Were e'er such hungry folk? There's little talking, and no wit;

It is'no time to joke.

One wipes his nofe upon his fleeve,

One spits upon the floor,
Yet, not to give offence or grieve,
Holds

up

the cloth before.

The punch goes round, and they are dull

And lumpish still as ever;
Like barrels with their bellies full,

They only weigh the heavier.

At length the busy time begins :

• Come, neighbours, we must wagThe money chinks, down drop their chins,

Each lugging out his bag.

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