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But I liked to say it. Wood having laid hold of the canvass-bag. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. 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. "No, no, let him alone," interposed Wood.
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This video was uploaded to wallpapersexpert.com on 21-09-2024 13:26:15
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