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. Blueskin fought his way towards it, and exerting all his strength, cutting right and left as he proceeded, reached it at the same time. " "Of course," rejoined Quilt, maliciously; "every thief is so. “Just at present my mind simply won’t take hold of this at all. ” “I suppose all IS well that ends well. It was the last thing she felt like drinking. He had dungarees on and a blue work shirt. He will be here in a moment or so, and you will then learn his determination. “Well, hello there.
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