The winters were bitter here, they could have just as easily been frozen off. She thought of how much she wanted to eat the foods she had once feasted on that now smelled as innocuous as spring flowers. She ran down alleyways and between buildings, faster than an Olympian, until she could hear his voice no more. 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.
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This video was uploaded to fairlopwaters.info on 09-07-2024 13:39:01
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