“Look, dear,” she said presently, “you can put the ten on the Jack. And though I say it that shouldn't say it, no man can tie a better knot. “Will you be moral and your species, or immoral and yourself? We’ve decided to be immoral. 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. “I had no idea that it was so abominably late. Like carpenter, like chips. " Spurlock laughed. ’ ‘He doesn’t sound like a desirable parti.
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