Thames Darrell, I've said, is at Mr. 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. ’ She spoke with difficulty, holding down the rising emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. “Look, dear,” she said presently, “you can put the ten on the Jack.
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