Smuggler Bill rides on amain, He slacks not girth—and he draws not rein, Yet the dapple-grey mare bounds on in vain, For nearer now—and he hears it plain— Sounds the tramp of a horse—"'Tis the Gauger again!" Smuggler Bill Dashes round by the mill That stands near the road upon Monkton Hill,— "Now speed,—now speed, My dapple-grey steed, Thou ever, my dapple, wert good at need! O'er Monkton Mead, and through Minster Level, We'll baffle him yet, be he gauger or devil! For Manston Cave, away! away! Now speed thee, now speed thee, my good dapple-grey! It shall never be said that Smuggler Bill Was run down like a hare by Exciseman Gill!"
Manston Cave was Bill's abode; A mile to the north of the Ramsgate Road, (Of late they say It's been taken away, That is, levell'd, and filled up with chalk and clay, By a gentleman there of the name of Day,) Thither he urges his good dapple-grey; And the dapple-grey steed, Still good at need, Though her chest it pants, and her flanks they bleed, Dashes along at the top of her speed; But nearer and nearer Exciseman Gill Cries "Yield thee! now yield thee, thou Smuggler Bill!"
Smuggler Bill, he looks behind, And he sees a Dun horse come swift as the wind, And his nostrils smoke, and his eyes they blaze Like a couple of lamps on a yellow post-chaise! Every shoe he has got Appears red-hot! And sparks round his ears snap, crackle, and play, And his tail cocks up in a very odd way, Every hair in his mane seems a porcupine's quill, And there on his back sits Exciseman Gill, Crying "Yield thee! now yield thee, thou Smuggler Bill!"
Smuggler Bill from his holster drew A large horse-pistol, of which he had two, Made by Nock; He pull'd back the cock As far as he could to the back of the lock; The trigger he touch'd, and the welkin rang To the sound of the weapon, it made such a bang; Smuggler Bill ne'er miss'd his aim, The shot told true on the Dun—but there came From the hole where it enter'd,—not blood,—but flame! —He changed his plan, And fired at the man; But his second horse-pistol flashed in the pan! And Exciseman Gill, with a hearty good will, Made a grab at the collar of Smuggler Bill.
The dapple-grey mare made a desperate bound When that queer Dun horse on her flank she found, Alack! and alas! on what dangerous ground! It's enough to make one's flesh to creep To stand on that fearful verge, and peep Down the rugged sides so dreadfully steep, Where the chalk-hole yawns full sixty feet deep, O'er which that steed took that desperate leap! It was so dark then under the trees, No horse in the world could tell chalk from cheese— Down they went—o'er that terrible fall,— Horses, Exciseman, Smuggler, and all!!
Below were found Next day on the ground, By an elderly Gentleman walking his round, (I wouldn't have seen such a sight for a pound,) All smash'd and dash'd, three mangled corses, Two of them human,—the third was a horse's,— That good dapple-grey,—and Exciseman Gill Yet grasping the collar of Smuggler Bill!
But where was the Dun? that terrible Dun?— From that terrible night he was seen by none!— There are some people think, though I am not one, That part of the story all nonsense and fun, But the country-folks there, One and all, declare, When the "Crowner's 'Quest" came to sit on the pair, They heard a loud Horse-laugh up in the air!— —If in one of the trips Of the steam-boat Eclipse You should go down to Margate to look at the ships, Or to take what the bathing-room people call "Dips," You may hear old folks talk Of that quarry of chalk; Or go over—it's rather too far for a walk, But a three shilling drive will give you a peep At that fearful chalk-pit—so awfully deep, Which is call'd to this moment "The Smuggler's Leap!" Nay more, I am told, on a moonshiny night, If you're "plucky," and not over-subject to fright, And go and look over that chalk-pit white, You may see, if you will, The Ghost of Old Gill Grappling the Ghost of Smuggler Bill, And the Ghost of the dapple-grey lying between 'em.— I'm told so—I can't say I know one who's seen 'em!
And now, gentle Reader, one word ere we part, Just take a friend's counsel, and lay it to heart. Imprimis, don't smuggle!—if, bent to please Beauty, You must buy French lace,—purchase what has paid duty! Don't use naughty words, in the next place,—and ne'er in Your language adopt a bad habit of swearing! Never say "Devil take me!"— Or, "shake me!"—or, "bake me!" Or such-like expressions.—Remember Old Nick To take folks at their word is remarkably quick. Another sound maxim I'd wish you to keep, Is, "Mind what you are after, and—Look ere you Leap!"
Above all, to my last gravest caution attend— Never borrow a horse you don't know of a friend!!!