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. With this view, Jack was carried—for he was no longer able to move without assistance— to a ward called the Castle, situated over the gateway on the western side, in what was considered the strongest part of the jail. 130 “You look fantastic!” He said, sitting down next to her on the sectional sofa, his black tee shirt and blue jeans in stark contrast to her cream colored princess gown. She had to exert tremendous energy not to sniff the air for his blood.
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