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. Tell me, what are these bananas and nuts for?” “Dessert. ‘Monsieur, my wife intended not to anger you,’ he said in a tone of apology. She went to the basement and shed her sodden coat and scarf, tossing them into her favorite modern appliance, the electric dryer.
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