Now I ain’t saying as how that there Pottiswick—’ ‘How you talk,’ interrupted Melusine impatiently. 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. He returned to attend the funeral. “Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living.
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This video was uploaded to southmsnightout.com on 06-06-2024 08:26:16
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