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. " "Where did he get it?" inquired Wood, in surprise. "That's a fine tale," said Spurlock. “Michelle, it’s me, Lucy. You shall swing for this after next sessions, or my name's not Jonathan Wild. You know that I am practically destitute, without means or any certain knowledge of where my next meal is coming from. In her sitting-room I found Montague Hill.
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This video was uploaded to practical-tool.shop on 29-06-2024 11:30:50
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