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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-
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,
And made him faster run.
Away went Gilpin, and away
Went poft-boy at his heels!
The lumb'ring of the wheels.
Six gentlemen upon the road,
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,
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;
That Gilpin rode a race.
And so he didmand won it too!-
For he got first to town;
He did again get down.
Now let us fing-Long live the king,
And Gilpin long live he;
THE YEARLY DISTRESS,
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.
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,
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,
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,
the cloth before.
The punch goes round, and they are dull
And lumpish still as ever;
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.