The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. But that was all over. 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. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem.
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