Where Saint Giles' church stands, once a lazar-house stood; And, chain'd to its gates, was a vessel of wood; A broad-bottom'd bowl, from which all the fine fellows, Who pass'd by that spot, on their way to the gallows, Might tipple strong beer, Their spirits to cheer, 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! II. Certainly your major—’ ‘Ah, now that’s just it, missie. ’ Madame gave one of those breathy laughs. Your Mom says to come downstairs for dessert. There was a pause, while the steel grey eyes sliced at her. Ruth crossed over to the dramatist of this tragicomedy and put a hand on his shoulder.
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This video was uploaded to sport-caps-making.info on 07-06-2024 07:24:16
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