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. The blouse dried nicely, it would only need a touch of starch and a little ironing. Then he goes stony, and beats his way around the islands for another three months. " "By the name of The Tigress?" The doctor smiled, but shook his head. I need hardly say that your aunt joins with me very heartily in this request.
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