A question next arose whether the prisoner could be executed under the existing warrant,—some inclining to one opinion, some to another. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. There MULSACK and SWIFTNECK, both prigs from their birth, OLD MOB and TOM COX took their last draught on earth: There RANDAL, and SHORTER, and WHITNEY pulled up, And jolly JACK JOYCE drank his finishing cup! For a can of ale calms, A highwayman's qualms, And makes him sing blithely his dolorous psalms And nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! "Singing's dry work," observed the stranger, pausing to take a pull at the bottle.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-09-2024 11:41:26