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It keeps dangling in front of my eyes. Pull yourself together now. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. 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. And we men would work for them and serve them in loyal fealty.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 30-09-2024 10:54:13