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. “I was sent for to go to the Hospital St. ’ ‘Ah, no?’ She saw his guard relax and lunged again. ’ ‘You’re going to break into the house? You’re mad. Them young prigs is all alike.
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