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. " "I can't. Almost simultaneously they burst out laughing. ’ ‘Well, she didn’t walk through the walls, that’s certain,’ said Hilary acidly.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 20-09-2024 03:12:19
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