The less she lived, in fact, the better. 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. I was curious about that. "I hear you plotting with your wicked associates," cried Mrs. “Yes, I remember,” she said. “I throw it out in passing,” he said. But never mind that. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date. "Proclaim a public fight. At a little after five, on that day, four horses dashed round the corner of the Old Bailey, and drew up before the door of the Lodge.
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