” He crossed his arms. His face fell. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. I'll be feeling fine in no time. The ladies can't sleep in their beds for him; and as to the men, they daren't go to bed at all. Seeing from the threatening looks of his captors, that they were about to wreak their vengeance upon him, the miserable wretch besought mercy in abject terms, and charged his master with the most atrocious crimes.
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