"It is Sheppard—Jack Sheppard—stop him!" And his shouts were reiterated by the pack of bloodhounds at his heels. A dull light shone through the open window blinds and softened the room with parchment yellowness. 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. Another car followed, a rusty Cadillac sedan full of kids. This was his humiliation as well as hers. “Oh, yes,” the stranger remarked good-humouredly.
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This video was uploaded to bbdy.space on 30-05-2024 05:07:13
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