Gosse were you born, and Gosse will you remain to your death. 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. But it’s only now I’m able to do it. He laughs at locks and bolts; and the more carefully you guard your premises from him, the more likely are you to insure an attack. “What have you done to yourself?” he muttered. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. " "Then I must wait a long time," grumbled Blueskin. " "How so?" asked Thames. He stood away from her. \" \"All right.
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