You shall swing for this after next sessions, or my name's not Jonathan Wild. 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. " Upon which, Mr. ’ ‘It is true,’ insisted the lady. ’ ‘Useful certainly. These joyful bounds just lace into the stuff of my memories and stay there forever. The stags and oxen and things all have to fight for us, everywhere. "But clear the room of this rabble, if you have sufficient authority over them. ” End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ann Veronica, by H.
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