” She stopped. 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. ‘And I don’t mind telling you it goes agin’ the grain with me to let you go free and all, missie. Don’t be late if you can help it.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 25-06-2024 09:36:28
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