EPOCH THE FIRST, 1703. 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. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. And of course! She had a brilliant idea. Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank. ” She had no way of retaliating, so she made a decision. ‘You wish to tell me something? Parbleu, I have nearly forgot once more.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 02-10-2024 13:37:41