” The brutality of his first astonishment was evaporating. You represented to us the immaculate Briton, the one Englishman who typified the Saxonism, if I may coin a word, of our race. ’ ‘What?’ ‘Neat little toy. ” She yelled. Yes, of course. Don’t you think? Tum, tay, tum, tay. 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.
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