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. ” She spoke with a certain asperity. 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. His conscience never told him to go back and take his punishment; it tortured him only in regard to the deed itself. Here again the clothes were minus the labels. "Austin will stare," thought Jack, "when he comes here in the morning.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 01-10-2024 08:03:37