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. Before proceeding to Wych Street, he called at the Lodge to see how matters were going on, and found Mrs. Unless he can arise from the bottom of the Thames, where he and his abhorred father lie buried, you will never behold him again in this world. . The room they were in was a sort of closet, with the door locked outside; but this was only a moment's obstacle to Jack, who with a chisel forced back the bolt.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 24-09-2024 18:27:44