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. I will not trust you. " "Merciful providence!" exclaimed the female. Wrenched from their holds, the iron palisades in front of the thief-taker's dwelling were used as weapons to burst open the door.
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