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. His face brightened at the sight of her, and he came toward her. Come! come!" "Hear me, mother," cried Jack, "and I will explain to you why the villain makes this strange and revolting proposal. I was his wife. Say that I will call again or let him know my address in London. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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