Now see him in a second train,
Behind the iron steed,
Borne on, slap dash-for life or bones
With small concern or heed.
Away went GILPIN, neck or naught,
Exclaiming, "Dash my wig!
Oh, here's a game! oh, here's a go!
A running such a rig!"
A signal, hark!—the whistle screamed—
Smash! went the windows all:
"An accident!" cried out each one,
As loud as he could bawl.
Away went GILPIN, never mind—
His brain seemed spinning round;
Thought he, "This speed a killing pace
Will prove, I'll bet a pound !"
And still, as stations they drew near,
The whistle shrilly blew,
And in a trice, past signal-men,
The train like lightning flew.
Thus, all through merry Killbury,
Without a stop shot they;
But paused, to 'scape a second smash,
At Dedmanton so gay.
At Dedmanton his loving wife,
On platform waiting, spied
Her tender husband, striving much
To let himself outside.
"Hallo! JOHN GILPIN, here we are—
Come out!" they all did cry;
"To death with waiting we are tired!"
"Guard!" shouted GILPIN, "Hi!"
But no—the train was not a bit
Arranged to tarry there,
For why?—because 't was an Express,
And did dispatches bear.
So, in a second, off it flew
Again, and dashed along,
As if the deuce't were going to,
With motive impulse strong.
Away went GILPIN, on the breath
Of puffing steam, until
They came unto their journey's end,
Where they at last stood still