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. \"Hi Missy, have you met Lucy Albert?\" Lucy contrived a smile. " "I'll forgive you all the harm you do me," rejoined the Amazon. No other man should touch her; she was Hoddy's, body and soul, in this life and after.
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