If the boy had done anything wrong back there in the States, his would be the brand of conscience to pay him out in full. . He carried a small bag. ‘Why, that’s it. 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. And if she is not a nun, nor a refugee, and yet is entirely English, I’m hanged if I know what she is.
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