She was saying good-bye to childhood and home, and her making; she was going out into the great, multitudinous world; this time there would be no returning. Should it e'er be my lot to ride backwards that way, At the door of the Crown I will certainly stay; I'll summon the landlord—I'll call for the Bowl, And drink a deep draught to the health of my soul! Whatever may hap, I'll taste of the tap, To keep up my spirits when brought to the crap! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of St. "Ah! who have we here?" exclaimed Griffin.
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