"I am too much honoured—too happy in the union. In worldly matters Gay was not fortunate. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. 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. Dieu du ciel, but where was Gerald? On the move again, she found herself standing before one of the mirrors, gazing into her own countenance without seeing it. It was a capital diversion; and as usual the Leatherneck bested the Britisher, in seven rounds. And finally, my special thanks to the Queenie music fans around the world.
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