More than half the city perished. ‘Yes, don’t interrupt me,’ said Captain Roding severely. ‘What else do you expect? It’s the penalty you pay for marrying an Englishman. You shall tell me if I am wrong. “Call me Annabel. 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.
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