FUN AND FROLIC
THE COMICAL GIRL
There was a child, as I've been told,
Who, when she was young, did not look old.
Another thing, too, some people have said,
At the top of her body there grew a head.
And, what perhaps might make people stare,
Her little bald pate was covered with hair.
Another strange thing that made gossips talk,
Was, that she often attempted to walk.
And then, do you know, she occasioned much fun,
By moving so fast as sometimes to run.
Nay, indeed, I have heard that some people say
She often would smile, and often would play.
And what is a fact, though it seems very odd,
She had a monstrous dislike to the feel of a rod.
This strange little child sometimes hungry would be,
And then was delighted her victuals to see.
Even drink she could swallow, and, though strange it appears,
Whenever she listened, it was with her ears.
With her eyes she could see, and strange to relate,
Her peepers were placed in the front of her pate.
There, too, was her mouth, and also her nose ;
And on her two feet were placed her ten toes.
Her teeth, I've been told, were fixed in her gums ;
And, besides having fingers, she also had thumbs.
A droll child she therefore most surely must be,
For, not being blind, she was able to see.
One circumstance more had nigh slipped my mind,
Which is, when not cross, she always was kind.
And, strangest of any that yet I have said,
She every night went to sleep on her bed.
And what may occasion you no small surprise,
When napping, she always shut close up her eyes.
Anon.
TOPSYTURVY WORLD
If the butterfly courted the bee,
And the owl the porcupine;
If churches were built in the sea,
And three times one was nine;
If the pony rode the master,
And the buttercups ate the cows,
If the cat had the dire disaster
To be worried, sir, by the mouse;
If mamma, sir, sold the baby
To a gipsy for half-a-crown;
If a gentleman, sir, was a lady,—
The world would be Upside-Down!
If any or all of these wonders
Should ever come about,
I should not consider them blunders,
For I should be Inside-Out!
Chorus—
Ba-ba, black wool,
Have you any sheep?
Yes, sir, a pack-ful,
Creep, mouse, creep!
Four-and-twenty little maids
Hanging out the pie,
Out jumped the honey-pot,
Guy-Fawkes, Guy!
Cross-latch, cross-latch,
Sit and spin the fire,
When the pie was opened,
The bird was on the brier.
WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS.
THE CONCEITED PIGGIES
A jolly old sow once lived in a sty,
And three little piggies had she,
And she waddled about saying "grumph! grumph! grumph !*
While the little ones said "wee! wee!"
And she waddled about saying "grumph! grumph! grumph!'*
While the little ones said "wee! wee!'
" My dear little piggies," said one of the brats,
"My dear little brothers," said he,
"Let us all for the future say * grumph! grumph! grumph!'
'Tis so childish to say * wee ! wee!'
Let us all for the future say ' grumph! grumph ! grumph!'
'Tis so childish to say ' wee ! wee !'
These three little piggies grew shining and lean,
And lean they might very well be,
For somehow they couldn't say " grumph ! grumph ! grumph ! *
And they wouldn't once say "wee! wee!'
For somehow they couldn't say " grumph! grumph! grumph!"
And they wouldn't once say " wee! wee!"
So after a time these little pigs died,
They all died of fe-lo-de-see,
From trying too hard to say "grumph! grumph ! grumph!'
When they only could say "wee! wee!'
From trying too hard to say "grumph! grumph! grumph!'
When they only could say "wee! wee!'
A moral there is to this little song,
A moral that's easy to see,
Don't try when you're young to say "grumph! grumph! grumph!'
When you only can say '' wee ! wee !'
Don't try when you're young to say "grumph! grumph! grumph!"
When you only can say "wee! wee!"
Old Rhyme.
THE PRECISE GUINEA-PIG
There was a little guinea-pig,
Who being little, was not big:
He always walked upon his feet,
And never fasted when he eat.
When from a place he ran away,
He never at that place did stay;
And while he ran, as I am told,
He ne'er stood still for young or old.
He often squeaked and sometimes vi'lent,
And when he squeaked he ne'er was silent;
Though ne'er instructed by a cat,
He knew a mouse was not a rat.
One day, as I am certified,
He took a whim and fairly died ;
And I am told by men of sense,
He never has been living since.
Old Rhyme.
A TRAGIC STORY
There lived a sage in days of yore
And he a handsome pigtail wore ;
But wondered much and sorrowed more
Because it hung behind him.
He mused upon his curious case,
And swore he'd change the pigtail's place,
And have it hanging at his face,
Not dangling there behind him.
Says he "The mystery I've found,—
" I'll turn me round,"—he turned him round;
But still it hung behind him.
Then round and round, and out and in,
All day the puzzled sage did spin;
In vain—it mattered not a pin,-
The pigtail hung behind him.
And right and left, and round about,
And up and down, and in and out,
He turned ; but still the pigtail stout
Hung steadily behind him.
And though his efforts never slack,
And though he twist, and twirl, and tack,
Alas! still faithful to his back
The pigtail hangs behind him.
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.
THE LITTLE DOLL'S HOUSE IN ARCADY
The boys and girls were exceeding gay,
With billycock bonnets and curds and whey,
And I thought that I was in Arcady,
For the fringe of the forest was fair to see.
But the very first hayrick that I came to
Did turn to a doll's-house, fair and true;
I saw with my eyes where the same did sit,
And there was a rainbow over it.
The people inside were setting the platters,
And chairs and tables, and suchlike matters,
And making the beds and getting the tea:
But through a bow-window I saw the sea.
Up came a damsel: "Sir," she said,
"Will you walk with me by my garden bed?
Will you sit in my parlour by and by ? "
"I will sit in your parlour, my dear," said I.
1 Will you hear my starling gossip ?' said she,
And now I felt sure it was Arcady;
But a starling never could do the rhyming
That very soon in my ears was chiming:—
" Jigglum-jogglum, Lilliputlandum,
Twopenny tiptop, sugaricandum.
Snip-snap snorum, hot cross buns,
Gongujatorum, double-dunce.
" Fannyfold funnyface, fairy-tale,
Cat in a cockle-boat, wigglum-whale,
Dickory-dolphin, humpty-hoo,
Floppety-fluteykin, tootle-tum-too."
Said I, " There may be a clown outside,
And a clown I never could yet abide,—
A picker and stealer, a clumsy-joker,
Who stirs up his friends with a burning poker.
"But, perhaps," said I, " I mistake the plan;
It may be the Punch-and-Judy man,
Or the other that keeps the galanty show
And the marionettes, for what I know."
Then I opened the window through thick and thin,
And in with a bounce came Harlequin,
And very distinctly I heard a band
Strike up the dances of Lilliput Land.
To wonder at this I did incline,
"And where," said I, "is the Columbine—
Tip-toe twist-about, shimmer and shine,
Where is the beautiful Columbine?"
Then out from the curtains, all shimmer and shine,
With a rose-red sash came Columbine,
And Harlequin took her by the hand,
And they stepped it out in Lilliput Land;
Twirl about, whirl about, shimmer and shine,
O a rose-red sash had Columbine!
Then one of the folks who had set the tea
In Doll's-House fashion, did climb my knee,
And he said, "Would you like, sir, to take a trip
With me? Have you seen my little ship?'
The ship, as he called it, was certainly small,
For the dot of a sailor could carry it all:
So both got in, and away went we,
Coasting the sea-board of Arcady.
Then I told a story, and he told one,
But they both got mixed before they were done;
And so did we, as the day grew dim,
And the child was myself, and myself was him,
But now it was getting time to land,
So I stepped into Fleet Street, and went up the Strand,
For I thought I should like to study the trade
They drive in toys at the Lowther Arcade.
And whom should I see, at a Doll's-House door,
But the very same damsel I met before!
" I thought I should see you again," says she;
"And a few of my friends will be here to tea."
Then the Punch-and-Judy man came in,
And Columbine and the Harlequin,
And the man that patters in front of the show,
And the children—and how their tongues did go!
"But what makes the place so sweet? " thought I,
As scents of the heather and furze went by,
And with them a whiff of the rolling sea;—
And then I remembered Arcady,
As the party were tittering over the tea.
WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS.
THE WIND IN A FROLIC
The wind one morning sprang up from sleep,
Saying, "Now for a frolic! Now for a leap!
Now for a mad-cap galloping chase!
I'll make a commotion in every place."
So it swept with a bustle right through a great town,
Cracking the signs and scattering down
Shutters; and whisking with merciless squalls
Old women's bonnets and gingerbread stalls.
There never was heard a much lustier shout,
As the apples and oranges trundled about;
And the urchins that stand with their thievish eyes
For ever on watch ran off each with a prize.
Then away to the field it went, blustering and humming,
And the cattle all wondered whatever was coming;
It plucked by the tails the grave matronly cows,
And tossed the colts' manes all about their brows;
Till, offended at such an unusual salute,
They all turned their backs, and stood sulky and mute.
So on it went capering and playing its pranks,
Whistling with reeds on the broad river's banks,
Puffing the birds as they sat on the spray,
Or the traveller grave on the king's highway.
It was not too nice to hustle the bags
Of the beggar, and flutter his dirty rags;
'Twas so bold, that it feared not to play its joke
With the doctor's wig, or the gentleman's cloak.
Through the forest it roared, and cried gaily, " Now,
You sturdy old oaks, I'll make you bow!"
And it made them bow without more ado,
Or it cracked their great branches through and through.
Then it rushed like a monster on cottage and farm,
Striking their dwellers with sudden alarm ;
And they ran out like bees in a midsummer swarm;
There were dames with their kerchiefs tied over their caps,
To see if their poultry were free from mishaps ;
The turkeys they gobbled, the geese screamed aloud,
And the hens crept to roost in a terrified crowd ;
There was rearing of ladders, and logs laying on,
Where the thatch from the roof threatened soon to be gone.
But the wind had swept on, and had met in a lane
With a schoolboy who panted and struggled in vain ;
For it tossed him and twirled him, then passed, and he stood
With his hat in a pool and his shoes in the mud.
Then away went the wind in its holiday glee,
And now it was far on the billowy sea,
And the lordly ships felt its staggering blow,
And the little boats darted to and fro.
But lo ! it was night, and it sank to rest
On the sea-birds' rock in the gleaming west,
Laughing to think, in its fearful fun,
How little of mischief it had done.
WILLIAM HOWITT.
UNLESS
" I wish, I wish I were a fish,"
Said Bobbie to his sister,
As in his net he chanced to get
A little speckled twister.
" Precisely so," the fish replied,
As he kept twisting faster,
" Unless you find in your inside
A hook, my little master!"
" I wish, I wish I were a fish,"
With all my dear relations ;
No need to go to school, you know,
And never do dictations.
And never have to wash or dress,
And never to be beaten!'
" Quite so," the fish remarked, "unless
You happen to be eaten!'
FRED. E. WEATHERLY.
THE LOBSTER AND THE MAID
He was a gentle lobster
(The boats had just come in)—
He did not love the fishermen,
He could not stand their din;
And so he quietly stole off,
As if it were no sin.
She was a little maiden,
He met her on the sand,
"And how d'you do?' the lobster said;
"Why don't you give your hand?'
For why she edged away from him
He could not understand.
" Excuse me, sir," the maiden said,
" Excuse me, if you please,"
And put her hands behind her back,
And doubled up her knees;
" I always thought that lobsters were
A little apt to squeeze."
" Your ignorance," the lobster said,
" Is natural, I fear ;
Such scandal is a shame," he sobbed,
"It is not true, my dear!'
And with his pocket handkerchief
He wiped away a tear.
So out she put her little hand,
As though she feared him not,
When some one grabbed him suddenly,
And put him in a pot,
With water which, I think, he found
Uncomfortably hot.
It may have been the water made
The blood flow to his head,
It may have been that dreadful fib
Lay on his soul like lead:
This much is true—he went in grey
And came out very red.
FRED. E. WEATHERLY.
CLEAN CLARA
What! not know our Clean Clara ?
Why, the hot folks in Sahara,
And the cold Esquimaux,
Our little Clara know!
Clean Clara, the poet sings,
Cleaned a hundred thousand things!
She cleaned the keys of the harpsichord,
She cleaned the hilt of the family sword,
She cleaned my lady, she cleaned my lord;
All the pictures in their frames,
Knights with daggers, and stomachered dames—
Cecils, Godfreys, Montforts, Graemes,
Winifreds—all those nice old names!
She cleaned the works of the eight-day clock,
She cleaned the spring of a secret lock;
She cleaned the mirror, she cleaned the cupboard ;
All the books she India-rubbered!
She cleaned the Dutch-tiles in the place,
She cleaned some very old-fashioned lace;
The Countess of Miniver came to her,
"Pray, my dear, will you clean my fur?"
All her cleanings are admirable;
To count your teeth you will be able,
If you look in the walnut-table!
She cleaned the tent-stitch and the sampler ;
She cleaned the tapestry, which was ampler;
She cleaned the drops of the chandeliers,
Madam in mittens was moved to tears!
She cleaned the cage of the cockatoo,
The oldest bird that ever grew;
I should say a thousand years would do—
I'm sure he looked it, but nobody knew;
She cleaned the china, she cleaned the delf,
She cleaned the baby, she cleaned herself!
To-morrow morning she means to try
To clean the cobwebs from the sky ;
Some people say the girl will rue it,
But my belief is she will do it.
So I've made up my mind to be there to see,
There's a beautiful place in the walnut-tree,
The bough is as firm as the solid rock ;
She brings out her broom at six o'clock.
WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS.
THE DREAM OF A BOY WHO LIVED AT NINE-ELMS
Nine grenadiers, with bayonets in their guns;
Nine bakers' baskets, with hot-cross buns;
Nine brown elephants, standing in a row;
Nine new velocipedes, good ones to go ;
Nine knickerbocker suits, with buttons all complete;
Nine pairs of skates with straps for the feet;
Nine clever conjurers eating hot coals ;
Nine sturdy mountaineers leaping on their poles;
Nine little drummer-boys beating on their drums ;
Nine fat aldermen sitting on their thumbs;
Nine new knockers to our front door ;
Nine new neighbours that I never saw before;
Nine times running I dreamt it all plain ;
With bread and cheese for supper I could dream it all again.
WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS.
THE DREAM OF A GIRL WHO LIVED AT SEVEN-OAKS
Seven sweet singing birds up in a tree;
Seven swift sailing-ships white upon the sea;
Seven bright weather-cocks shining in the sun ;
Seven slim race-horses ready for a run ;
Seven gold butterflies, flitting overhead ;
Seven red roses blowing in a garden bed;
Seven white lilies, with honey bees inside them ;
Seven round rainbows with clouds to divide them ;
Seven pretty little girls with sugar on their lips;
Seven witty little boys, whom everybody tips;
Seven nice fathers, to call little maids joys ;
Seven nice mothers, to kiss the little boys;
Seven nights running I dreamt it all plain ;
With bread and jam for supper I could dream it all again.
WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS.
THE OWL-CRITIC
"Who stuffed that white owl?' No one spoke in the shop
The barber was busy, and he couldn't stop ;
The customers, waiting their turns, were all reading
The Daily, the Herald, the Post, little heeding
The young man who blurted out such a blunt question;
Not one raised a head, or even made a suggestion ;
And the barber kept on shaving.
"Don't you see, Mister Brown,
" Cried the youth, with a frown,
"How wrong the whole thing is,
How preposterous each wing is,
How flattened the head is, how jammed down the neck is—
In short, the whole owl, what an ignorant wreck 'tis!
I make no apology; I've learned owl-eology.
I've passed days and nights in a hundred collections,
And cannot be blinded to any deflections,
Arising from unskilful fingers that fail
To stuff a bird right, from his beak to his tail.
Mister Brown ! Mister Brown !
Do take that bird down,
Or you'll soon be the laughing-stock all over town!"
And the barber kept on shaving,
"I've studied owls
And other night fowls,
And I tell you
What I know to be true:
An owl cannot roost
With his limbs so unloosed;
No owl in this world
Ever had his claws curled,
Ever had his legs slanted,
Ever had his bill canted,
Ever had his neck screwed
Into that attitude.
He can't do it, because
Tis against all bird-laws.
Anatomy teaches,
Ornithology preaches
An owl has a toe
That can't turn out so!
I've made the white owl my study for years,
And to see such a job almost moves me to tears!
Mister Brown, I'm amazed
You should be so gone crazed
As to put up a bird In that posture absurd!
To look at that owl really brings on a dizziness;
The man who stuffed him don't half know his business!"
And the barber kept on shaving.
"Examine those eyes.
I'm filled with surprise
Taxidermists should pass
Off on you such poor glass;
So unnatural they seem
They'd make Audubon scream,
And John Burroughs laugh
To encounter such chaff.
Do take that bird down;
Have him stuffed again, Brown !"
And the barber kept on shaving.
"With some sawdust and bark
I could stuff in the dark
An owl better than that.
I could make an old hat
Look more like an owl
Than that horrid fowl,
Stuck up there so stiff like a side of coarse leather.
In fact, about him there's not one natural feather."
Just then, with a wink and a sly normal lurch,
The owl, very gravely, got down from his perch,
Walked round, and regarded his fault-finding critic
(Who thought he was stuffed) with a glance analytic,
And then fairly hooted, as if he should say:
"Your learning's at fault this time, anyway;
Don't waste it again on a live bird, I pray.
I'm an owl; you're another. Sir Critic, good-day!"
And the barber kept on shaving.
JAMES T. FIELDS.
THE MOCK TURTLE'S SONG
" Will you walk a little faster ?' said a whiting to a snail,
"There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle—will you come and join the dance ?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance ?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance ?
"You can really have no notion how delightful it will be,
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!"
But the snail replied, "Too far, too far!' and gave a look askance—
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.
"What matters it how far we go?" his scaly friend replied,
"There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The further off from England the nearer is to France—
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance ?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance ? "
LEWIS CARROLL.
FATHER WILLIAM
"You are old, Father William," the young man said,
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head—
Do you think, at your age, it is right ? "
"In my youth," Father William replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again."
"You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door—
Pay, what is the reason of that ?"
"In my youth," said the sage, as he shock his grey locks,
"I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment—one shilling the box—
Allow me to sell you a couple?"
"You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak—
Pray, how did you manage to do it ?'
"In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife ;
And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life."
"You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose—
What made you so awfully clever ?
"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"
Said his father; " don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs!"
LEWIS CARROLL.
THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN
John Gilpin was a citizen
Of credit and renown,
A train-band captain eke was he,
Of famous London town.
John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear,
"Though wedded we have been
These twice ten tedious years, yet we
No holiday have seen.
"To-morrow is our wedding-day,
And we will then repair
Unto the Bell at Edmonton,
All in a chaise and pair.
"My sister, and my sister's child,
Myself, and children three,
Will fill the chaise ; so you must ride
On horseback after we."
He soon replied: "I do admire
Of womankind but one,
And you are she, my dearest dear,
Therefore it shall be done.
"I am a linen-draper bold,
As all the world doth know,
And my good friend the calender
Will lend his horse to go."
Quoth Mrs Gilpin: "That's well said;
And for that wine is dear,
We will be furnished with our own,
Which is both bright and clear.'
"John Gilpin kissed his loving wife ;
O'erjoyed was he to find
That, though on pleasure she was bent,
She had a frugal mind.
The morning came, the chaise was brought,
But yet was not allowed
To drive up to the door, lest all
Should say that she was proud.
So three doors off the chaise was stayed,
Where they did all get in ;
Six precious souls, and all agog
To dash through thick and thin.
Smack went the whip, round went the wheels,
Were never folk so glad,
The stones did rattle underneath,
As if Gheapside were mad.
John Gilpin at his horse's side
Seized fast the flowing mane,
And up he got, in haste to ride,
But soon came down again ;
For saddle-tree scarce reach'd had he,
His journey to begin,
When, turning round his head, he saw
Three customers come in.
So down he came ; for loss of time,
Although it grieved him sore,
Yet loss of pence, full well he knew,
Would trouble him much more.
'Twas long before the customers
Were suited to their mind,
When Betty, screaming, came down stairs—
"The wine is left behind!"
" Good lack!' quoth he, "yet bring it me,
My leathern belt likewise,
In which I bear my trusty sword,
When I do exercise."
Now, Mistress Gilpin (careful soul!)
Had two stone bottles found,
To hold the liquor that she loved,
And keep it safe and sound.
Each bottle had a curling ear,
Through which the belt he drew,
And hung a bottle on each side,
To make his balance true.
Then over all, that he might be
Equipped from top to toe,
His long red cloak, well brushed and neat,
He manfully did throw.
Now see him mounted once again
Upon his nimble steed,
Full slowly pacing o'er the stones
With caution and good heed.
But finding soon a smoother road
Beneath his well-shod feet,
The snorting beast began to trot,
Which galled him in his seat.
So " Fair and softly," John he cried,
But John he 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.
His horse, who never in that sort
Had handled been before,
What thing upon his back had got
Did wonder more and more.
Away went Gilpin, neck or naught ;
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, loop and button failing both,
At last it flew away.
Then might all people well discern
The bottles he had slung ;
A bottle swinging at each side,
As hath been said or sung.
The dogs did bark, the children screamed,
Up flew the windows all ;
And every soul cried out, "Well done!'
As loud as he could bawl.
Away went Gilpin—who but he ?
His fame soon spread around ;
He carries weight! He rides a race !
' Tis for a thousand pound
And still, as fast as he drew near,
'Twas wonderful to view,
How in a trice the turnpike men
Their gates wide open threw.
And now, as he went bowing down
His reeking head full low,
The bottles twain behind his back
Were shattered at a blow.
Down ran the wine into the road,
Most piteous to be seen,
Which made his horse's flanks to smoke,
As they had basted been.
But still he seemed to carry weight
With leathern girdle braced,
For all might see the bottle-necks
Still dangling at his waist.
Thus all through merry Islington
Those gambols he did play,
Until he came unto the Wash
Of Edmonton so gay ;
And there he threw the Wash about
On both sides of the way,
Just like unto a trundling mop,
Or a wild goose at play.
At Edmonton, his loving wife
From the balcony espied
Her tender husband, wondering much
To see how he did ride.
" Stop, stop, John Gilpin ! here's the house !'
They all at once did cry ;
" The dinner waits, and we are tired ;'
Said Gilpin—"So am I!"
But yet his horse was not a whit
Inclined to tarry there ;
For why ?—his owner had a house
Full ten miles off, at Ware.
So, like an arrow swift he flew,
Shot by an archer strong ;
So did he fly—which brings me to
The middle of my song.
Away went Gilpin, out of breath,
And sore against his will,
Till at his friend the calender's,
His horse at last stood still.
The calender, amazed to see
His neighbour in such trim,
Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate,
And thus accosted him :
" 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 forbode,
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 comelv in its kind.
He held them up, and in his turn
Thus showed his ready wit :
" My head is twice as big as yours,
They therefore needs must fit.
11 But let me scrape the dirt away
That hangs upon your face ;
And stop and eat, for well you may
Be in a hungry case."
Said John : " It is my wedding-day,
And all the world would stare,
If wife should dine at Edmonton,
And I should dine at Ware."
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 ;
Whereat his horse did snort, as he
Had heard a lion roar,
And galloped off with all his might,
As he had done before.
Away went Gilpin, and away
Went Gilpin's hat and wig!
He lost them sooner than the first ;
For why ?—they were too big.
Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw
Her husband posting down
Into the country far away,
She pulled out half-a-crown ;
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 frightened steed he frightened 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 I"
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 did, and won it too,
For he got first to town;
Nor stopped till where he had got up
He did again get down.
Now let us sing, long live the King!
And Gilpin, long live he!
And, when he next doth ride abroad,
May I be there to see!
WILLIAM GOWPER.
