XII JACK SHEPPARD A Romance BY W. The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. \"Hey, don't be a stranger, Lucy. . 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.
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