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. It was not necessary to appease the wrath of human society; it was necessary only to appease that of God for the broken Commandment. " "Do not go with him, Jack!" shrieked his mother. She gathered up the chain, revealing a locket which had lain hidden in her bosom.
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