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 to 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 St. "I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow. "He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting. . "Do you not know me, father?" said the young man, advancing towards him, and warmly grasping his hand.
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