All the precious paintings and statues of the divine family were here, as was the enormous wooden crucifix set above the altar. 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. “I expected to stay with a relation, but I found that their arrangements did not allow of it. The door opened. I haven’t taken much account of it until now. What will you give me to save you from your pursuers?" "Can you do so?" asked the other, doubtfully. Old London Bridge. "I shall breathe more freely dere.
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