human
Bowl for a bottle of sack, And promised to pay for it when he came back. His waistcoat and stockings and breeches were white, His cap had a new cherry ribbon to tie't. The maids to the doors and the balconies ran, And said,
gpt
Lack-a-day, he's a proper young man! And as at the windows the ladies he spied, Like a beau in a box, he bowed low on each side, And when his last speech the loud hawkers did cry, He swore from the cart,
human
It was all a damn'd lie! The hangman for pardon fell down on his knee: Tom gave him a kick in the guts for his fee: Then said,
gpt
I must speak to the people a little; But I'll see you all damn'd before I will whittle! My honest friend Wild (may he long hold his place), He lengthen'd my life with a whole year of grace. Take courage, dear comrades, and be not afraid, Nor slip this occasion to follow your trade; My conscience is clear, and my spirits are calm, And thus I go off, without prayer-book or psalm; Then follow the practice of clever Tom Clinch, Who hung like a hero, and never would flinch.