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The Widow and her Child II. My friends consider it wonderfully faithful. Anybody in pain had only to call to him. His bodily suffering, however, was nothing compared with his mental anguish. 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. The picture might easily apply to The Tigress: outwardly disreputable, but richly and comfortably appointed below. But, urged by his wife's cries, who was more anxious for the preservation of her child's life than her own, he snatched up the infant, and made his escape from the back of the premises.
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