It was Celeste’s idea. Where the robber may cheer His spirit with beer, And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! III. “Concern me!” she repeated fiercely. "Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear.
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