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. Kneebone's habitation, the shutters of which were closed, and knocked at the door. After this occurence, not a word was exchanged between them until they came in sight of the sloop, which was lying at anchor off Wapping. Indeed, I've heard him say that, but for his wife, he would shelter her under his own roof. " Spurlock turned his dull eyes and tried to focus hers.
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