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! MORAL.