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 at first; For why?--they were too big. Now Mrs. 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 frighted steed he frighted more, And made him faster run. Away went Gilpin, and away Went post-boy at his heels, The post-boy's horse right glad to miss The lumbering of the wheels. Six gentlemen upon the road Thus seeing Gilpin fly, With post-boy scampering in the rear, They raised the hue and cry: 'Stop thief! stop thief!'--a highwayman, Not one of them was mute; And all and each that passed that way Did join in the pursuit. And now the turnpike gates again Flew open in short space; The tollmen 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! THE 'ROYAL GEORGE' Toll for the Brave! The brave that are no more! All sunk beneath the wave Fast by their native shore! Eight hundred of the brave, Whose courage well was tried, Had made the vessel heel And laid her on her side. A land-breeze shook the shrouds, And she was overset; Down went the _Royal George_ With all her crew complete. Toll for the brave! Brave Kempenfelt is gone; His last sea-fight is fought, His work of glory done. It was not in the battle; No tempest gave the shock, She sprang no fatal leak, She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men. Weigh the vessel up, Once dreaded by our foes! And mingle with our cup The tear that England owes. Her timbers yet are sound, And she may float again Full charged with England's thunder, And plough the distant main: