" "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. Gerald lost his head. In some incomprehensible way that back view made her feel sorry for Alice. I’ve got nothing to do for a month but think. . . “Let’s go. “Not a bit of it. 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. "You heard me say it! It was inevitable.
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This video was uploaded to sport-caps-making.info on 10-06-2024 11:10:51
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