Only her babe died. Where the robber may cheer His spirit with beer, And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! III. “Please play something for us,” Carol asked, her eyes aglow. Well, I was all for dragging in Bow Street there and then, and getting the pair of those fraudsters thrown in gaol.
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