"Coupling their presence with Jack's speech, I couldn't help fearing some mischief might ensue. ‘How did you get in? The house is all locked up. “Very well,” said Ann Veronica, with an air of concluding the discussion. 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. This is a tale of two young fools. "No Mohocks! No Scourers!" cried the mob. He seemed to know a great deal about life. ” She found herself trying to remember all the old tunes her mother had taught her, as they were bright as little stars.
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