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. ’
‘Glad you’re so sanguine,’ interrupted Captain Roding. We were only—les autres. ”
“I have a clue, at any rate,” he remarked, smiling. ’
‘For God’s sake,’ protested his junior. And all this time
perhaps you have been waiting, expecting to hear from me. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. “You’re splendid.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 06-07-2024 11:26:47