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 fell 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 These gambols did he 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 spied 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!"