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. ’ ‘You surprise me. “I want to make you happy, Lucy. " "You'll never live to see that day," cried Blueskin, fixing a menacing look upon him.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 18:45:20