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Now, mistress Gilpin, when the faw

Her husband posting down Into the country far away,

She pull'd out half a crown;

And thus unto the youth the faid
That drove them to the Bell-

This fhall be your's when you bring back
My husband safe and well.

The youth did ride, and foon did meet

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

By catching at his rein;

But, not performing what he meant,
And gladly would have done,
The frighted feed he frighted more,
And made him fafter run.

Away went Gilpin, and away
Went poft-boy at his heels!—

The poft-boy's horfe right glad to mifs
The lumb'ring of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road,

Thus feeing Gilpin fly,

With poft-boy fcamp'ring in the rear, They rais'd the hue and cry:

Stop thief! ftop thief!-a highwayman! Not one of them was mute;

And all and each that pafs'd that way

Did join in the pursuit.

And now the turnpike gates again
Flew open in fhort space;

The toll-men thinking, as before,

That Gilpin rode a race.

And fo he did-and won it too!-

For he got firft 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!

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THE YEARLY DISTRESS,

OR

TITHING TIME AT STOCK IN ESSEX:

VERSES addreffed to a Country Clergyman complaining the disagreeableness of the day annually appointed for receiving the Dues at the Parfonage.

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 prieft he merry is and blithe
Three quarters of the year,

But oh! it cuts him like a fithe
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 footh, the forrow of fuch days
Is not to be exprefs'd,

When he that takes and he that pays
Are both alike diftrefs'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,

Inftead 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 mifs and madam do,

'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 fuch hungry folk?
There's little talking, and no wit;
It is no time to joke.

One wipes his nofe upon his fleeve,

One fpits upon the floor,

Yet, not to give offence or grieve,
Holds up the cloth before.

The punch goes round, and they are dull

And lumpifh ftill as ever;

Like barrels with their bellies full,
They only weigh the heavier.

At length the busy time begins:

'Come, neighbours, we muft wag-'

The money chinks, down drop their chins, Each lugging out his bag.

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