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. Wished to see you. !" "I understand," interrupted McClintock. " "You say that the miniature was abstracted from Lady Trafford's jewel-box," said Jonathan, in a loud voice. So, instead, they talked of dancing and what it might mean in a human life. The child was still safe.
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