A black-garbed
figure crept forward, noiselessly, towards Gosse’s back. 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. John moved closer to her, getting up
from his roost by one bench, he joined her at the bench
where she sat. He made her tell him the core of the difficulty. Parbleu, but must she do this all through the house?
Evidently she must, for not only could she not properly see the paintings and
portraits that hung on the walls, but she was in imminent danger of bumping into
the sheet-shrouded furniture.
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This video was uploaded to golfrealestateonline.com on 06-07-2024 18:13:35