from many ships. 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. That night a grave was dug in Willesden churchyard, next to that in which Mrs. On Thursday we embark for South America. He parried without apparent effort. Just as he got on the roof of the prison, St.
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