But, hang it, I know it's good!" "Of course it is!" In the afternoon he began work on another tale. Here Jack Sheppard was unable to repress an exclamation of astonishment. Then she sang. 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. ‘Yes, that is what the nuns they said of me.
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