" "I don't care for that," replied Jack. 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. “Please call me Carol. But luncheon and dinners you will sit at my table. You're the first widow I ever heard of who could withstand that lure. The trip took a full day. It's my way when I'm ruffled.
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