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. But you are Annabel. " "Help me, Jack!" shouted Thames, "or I shan't be able to keep the villain down. I got three pounds, and there’s three on my watch. Only that I was prevented by one of those soldiers that caught me in the big house. They had refused. " "No, Sir Rowland. She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady. “The rest,” she said, holding tightly to his hands, “is the most important of all.
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