Should it e'er be my lot to ride backwards that way, At the door of the Crown I will certainly stay; I'll summon the landlord—I'll call for the Bowl, And drink a deep draught to the health of my soul! Whatever may hap, I'll taste of the tap, To keep up my spirits when brought to the crap! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of St. ” The tired woman shut her eyes tightly for a moment, and then looked with them at Ann Veronica. " "Well then, to change it," replied Thames, gravely, "suppose I should be obliged to leave you. .
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