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. She will cry for days and nights together. ] THE RAGGED EDGE BY HAROLD MACGRATH AUTHOR OF DRUMS OF JEOPARDY, ETC. From the sounds of it, he was better off dead. His two wives have been here. "And you will answer it frankly?" "Certainly. What more could any reasonable man— especially a watchman—desire? Besides, the Marquis, is a devilish fine fellow, and a particular friend of mine.
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