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. Gerald went through all the papers in front of Gosse and that woman of his, one by one. ” And then he speculated. If he took a fancy to you, he invited you to the house for tea, bitter and yellow and served in little cups without handles. ’ ‘It is you who will get the head blown off,’ threatened the young lady fiercely.
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