You know as well as I do that it was accident. I should know you—in Heaven or Hell. 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. Master and missis have been talking all day long about Jack Sheppard, and I'm dying to read his life.
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