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St. Giles's Bowl |
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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 Witney 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 ! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles !
When gallant Jack Sheppard to Tyburn was led, " Stop the cart at the Crown—stop a moment," he said. He was offered the Bowl, but he left it and smiled, Crying, " Keep it till called for by Jonathan Wild ! The rascal one day Will pass by this way, And drink a full measure to moisten his clay ! And never will Bowl of Saint Giles have beguiled Such a thorough-paced scoundrel as Jonathan Wild!"
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 for 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 Saint Giles 3 |
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141 |
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