R. CALDECOTT'S PICTURE BOOK (No. 1)
R. Caldecott's Picture Book
John Gilpin
The House that Jack built.
The Mad Dog
The Babes in the Wood
Frederick Warne & Co Ltd.
CONTAINING
THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN
THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT
AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG
THE BABES IN THE WOOD
LONDON
FREDERICK WARNE AND CO., Ltd.
AND NEW YORK
Printed in Great Britain
THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN:
Showing how he went farther than he intended, and came safe home again.
WRITTEN BY Wm. COWPER
WITH DRAWINGS BY R. CALDECOTT
JOHN GILPIN was a citizen
Of credit and renown,
A train-band captain eke was he,
Of famous London town.
"Though wedded we have been
These twice ten tedious years, yet we
No holiday have seen.
And we will then repair
Unto the 'Bell' at Edmonton,
All in a chaise and pair.
Myself, and children three,
Will fill the chaise; so you must ride
On horseback after we."
The Linendraper bold
Of womankind but one,
And you are she, my dearest dear,
Therefore it shall be done.
As all the world doth know,
And my good friend the calender
Will lend his horse to go."
And for that wine is dear,
We will be furnished with our own,
Which is both bright and clear."
O'erjoyed was he to find,
That though on pleasure she was bent,
She had a frugal mind.
But yet was not allowed
To drive up to the door, lest all
Should say that she was proud.
Where they did all get in;
Six precious souls, and all agog
To dash through thick and thin.
Were never folks so glad!
The stones did rattle underneath,
As if Cheapside were mad.
Seized fast the flowing mane,
And up he got, in haste to ride,
But soon came down again;
His journey to begin,
When, turning round his head, he saw
Three customers come in.
Although it grieved him sore,
Yet loss of pence, full well he knew,
Would trouble him much more.
The 3 customers
Were suited to their mind,
When Betty screaming came downstairs,
"The wine is left behind!"
My leathern belt likewise,
In which I bear my trusty sword
When I do exercise."
Had two stone bottles found,
To hold the liquor that she loved,
And keep it safe and sound.
Through which the belt he drew,
And hung a bottle on each side,
To make his balance true.
Equipped from top to toe,
His long red cloak, well brushed and neat,
He manfully did throw.
Upon his nimble steed,
Full slowly pacing o'er the stones,
With caution and good heed.
But finding soon a smoother road
Beneath his well-shod feet,
The snorting beast began to trot,
Which galled him in his seat.
But John he cried in vain;
That trot became a gallop soon,
In spite of curb and rein.
Who cannot sit upright,
He grasped the mane with both his hands,
And eke with all his might.
Had handled been before,
Did wonder more and more.
Away went hat and wig;
He little dreamt, when he set out,
Of running such a rig.
Like streamer long and gay,
Till, loop and button failing both,
At last it flew away.
The bottles he had slung;
A bottle swinging at each side,
As hath been said or sung.
Up flew the windows all;
And every soul cried out, "Well done!"
As loud as he could bawl.
His fame soon spread around;
"He carries weight! he rides a race
'Tis for a thousand pound!"
'Twas wonderful to view
How in a trice the turnpike-men
Their gates wide open threw.
His reeking head full low,
The bottles twain behind his back
Were shattered at a blow.
Most piteous to be seen,
Which made the 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 he did 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.
From the balcony spied
Her tender husband, wondering much
To see how he did ride.
They all at once did cry;
"The dinner waits, and we are tired;"
Said Gilpin—"So am I!"
Inclined to tarry there;
For why?—his owner had a house
Full ten miles off, at Ware.
Shot by an archer strong;
So did he fly—which brings me to
The middle of my song.
And sore against his will,
Till at his friend the calender's
His horse at last stood still.
His neighbour in such trim,
Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate,
And thus accosted him:
Tell me you must and shall—
Say why bareheaded you are come,
Or why you come at all?"
And loved a timely joke;
And thus unto the calender
In merry guise he spoke:
And, if I well forebode,
My hat and wig will soon be here,
They are upon the road."
His friend in merry pin,
Returned him not a single word,
But to the house went in;
A wig that flowed behind,
A hat not much the worse for wear,
Each comely in its kind.
Thus showed his ready wit:
"My head is twice as big as yours,
They therefore needs must fit."
That hangs upon your face;
And stop and eat, for well you may
Be in a hungry case."
And all the world would stare
If wife should dine at Edmonton,
And I should dine at Ware."
"I am in haste to dine;
You shall go back for mine."
For which he paid full dear;
For while he spake, a braying ass
Did sing most loud and clear;
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.
Her husband posting down
Into the country far away,
She pulled out half-a-crown;
That drove them to the "Bell,"
"This shall be yours when you bring back
My husband safe and well."
John coming back amain;
Whom in a trice he tried to stop,
By catching at his rein.
And gladly would have done,
And made him faster run.
Went postboy at his heels,
The postboy's horse right glad to miss
The lumbering of the wheels.
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,
With postboy scampering in the rear,
They raised the hue and cry.
Not one of them was mute;
And all and each that passed that way
Did join in the pursuit.
Flew open in short space;
The toll-man thinking, as before,
That Gilpin rode a race.
For he got first to town;
Nor stopped till where he had got up,
He did again get down.
And Gilpin, long live he;
And when he next doth ride abroad,
May I be there to see.
THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT
This is the House that Jack built.
This is the Malt,
That lay in the House that Jack built.
This is the Rat,
That ate the Malt,
That lay in the House that Jack built.
This is the Cat,
That killed the Rat,
That ate the Malt,
That lay in the House that Jack built.
This is the Dog,
That worried the Cat,
That killed the Rat,
That ate the Malt,
That lay in the House that Jack built.
This is the Cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the Dog,
That worried the Cat,
That killed the Rat,
That ate the Malt,
That lay in the House that Jack built.
This is the Maiden all forlorn,
That milked the Cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the Dog,
That worried the Cat,
That killed the Rat,
That ate the Malt,
That lay in the House that Jack built.
This is the Man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the Maiden all forlorn,
That milked the Cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the Dog,
That worried the Cat,
That killed the Rat,
That ate the Malt,
That lay in the House that Jack built.
This is the Priest, all shaven and shorn,
That married the Man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the Maiden all forlorn,
That milked the Cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the Dog,
That worried the Cat,
That killed the Rat,
That ate the Malt,
That lay in the House that Jack built.
This is the Cock that crowed in the morn;
That waked the Priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the Man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the Maiden all forlorn,
That milked the Cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the Dog,
That worried the Cat,
That killed the Rat,
That ate the Malt,
That lay in the House that Jack built.
This is the Farmer who sowed the corn,
That fed the Cock that crowed in the morn,
That waked the Priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the Man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the Maiden all forlorn,
That milked the Cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the Dog,
That worried the Cat,
That killed the Rat,
That ate the Malt,
That lay in the House that Jack built.
AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG
An ELEGY on the DEATH of a MAD DOG.
WRITTEN By Dr GOLDSMITH
PICTURED By R. Caldecott
SUNG By Master Bill Primrose
IN MEMORY OF TOBY
GOOD people all, of every sort,
Give ear unto my song;
And if you find it wondrous short,
It cannot hold you long.
In Islington there lived a man,
Of whom the world might say,
That still a godly race he ran,
Whene'er he went
to pray.
A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad,
When he put on
his clothes.
And in that town a dog was found:
As many dogs there be—
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp and hound,
And curs of low degree.
This dog and man at first were friends;
But, when a pique began,
The dog, to gain some private ends,
Went mad, and bit the man.
Around from all
the neighbouring streets
The wondering neighbours ran;
And swore the dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a man.
The wound it seem'd both sore and sad To every christian eye;
And while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die.
But soon a wonder came to light,
That show'd the rogues they lied—
The man recover'd of the bite;
The dog it was that died.
THE BABES IN THE WOOD
SORE SICKE THEY WERE AND LIKE TO DYE
Now ponder well, you parents deare,
These wordes which I shall write;
A doleful story you shall heare,
In time brought forth to light.
A gentleman of good account
In Norfolke dwelt of late,
Who did in honour far surmount
Most men of his estate.
Sore sicke he was, and like to dye,
No helpe his life could save;
His wife by him as sicke did lye,
And both possest one grave.
No love between these two was lost,
Each was to other kinde;
In love they liv'd, in love they dyed,
And left two babes behinde:
The one a fine and pretty boy,
Not passing three yeares olde;
The other a girl more young than he
And fram'd in beautye's molde.
The father left his little son,
As plainlye doth appeare,
When he to perfect age should come
Three hundred poundes a yeare.
And to his little daughter Jane
Five hundred poundes in gold,
To be paid downe on marriage-day,
Which might not be controll'd:
But if the children chanced to dye,
Ere they to age should come,
Their uncle should possesse their wealth;
For so the wille did run.
Now, Brother, said the dying man, Look to my children deare.
"Now, brother," said the dying man,
"Look to my children deare;
Be good unto my boy and girl,
No friendes else have they here:
"To God and you I do commend
My children deare this daye;
But little while be sure we have
Within this world to staye.
"You must be father and mother both,
And uncle all in one;
God knowes what will become of them,
When I am dead and gone."
With that bespake their mother deare:
"O brother kinde," quoth shee,
"You are the man must bring our babes
To wealth or miserie:
"And if you keep them carefully,
Then God will you reward;
But if you otherwise should deal,
God will your deedes regard."
With lippes as cold as any stone, they kist the children small
With lippes as cold as any stone,
They kist the children small:
"God bless you both, my children deare:"
With that the teares did fall.
These speeches then their brother spake
To this sicke couple there:
"The keeping of your little ones,
Sweet sister, do not feare:
"God never prosper me nor mine,
Nor aught else that I have,
If I do wrong your children deare,
When you are layd in grave."
Their Parents being Dead & Gone, The Children home he takes.
The parents being dead and gone,
The children home he takes,
And bringes them straite unto his house,
Where much of them he makes.
He had not kept these pretty babes
A twelvemonth and a daye,
But, for their wealth, he did devise
To make them both awaye.
He bargain'd with two ruffians strong,
Which were of furious mood,
That they should take the children young,
And slaye them in a wood.
He told his wife an artful tale,
He would the children send
To be brought up in faire London,
With one that was his friend.
Away then went those pretty babes,
Rejoycing at that tide,
Rejoycing with a merry minde,
They should on cock-horse ride.
Away then went the Pretty Babes Rejoycing at that tide.
They prate and prattle pleasantly
As they rode on the waye,
To those that should their butchers be,
And work their lives' decaye:
So that the pretty speeche they had,
Made murderers' heart relent:
And they that undertooke the deed,
Full sore did now repent.
Yet one of them, more hard of heart,
Did vow to do his charge,
Because the wretch, that hired him,
Had paid him very large.
The other would not agree thereto,
So here they fell to strife;
With one another they did fight,
About the children's life:
And he that was of mildest mood,
Did slaye the other there,
Within an unfrequented wood,
Where babes did quake for feare!
And he that was of mildest mood did slaye the other there
He took the children by the hand,
While teares stood in their eye,
And bade them come and go with him,
And look they did not crye:
And two long miles he ledd them on,
While they for food complaine:
"Stay here," quoth he, "I'll bring ye bread,
When I come back againe."
These prettye babes, with hand in hand,
Went wandering up and downe;
But never more they sawe the man Approaching from the town.
Their prettye lippes with blackberries
Were all besmear'd and dyed;
And when they sawe the darksome night,
They sat them downe and cryed.
Thus wandered these two prettye babes,
Till death did end their grief;
In one another's armes they dyed,
As babes wanting relief.
No burial these prettye babes
Of any man receives,
Till Robin-redbreast painfully
Did cover them with leaves.
In one another's arms they dyed.