This lady was singularly lucky in her matrimonial connections. 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. You haven’t an idea what the sort of employment you could get there would be like, the sort of people you would be mixed up with. Oh, I grew fond of you as the years went by.
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