“Let’s hope your successor is worthy of you. 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 breathy laugh came, and Madame Valade abandoned her fan. "I shall want nothing more. Narrow little beady brown eyes, and she’s got big eyebrows like dead caterpillars. She watched the people and hummed softly to herself.
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This video was uploaded to jandlonmark.org on 30-06-2024 11:06:42
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