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‘When she lies outright, she thinks about it. 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. "Poor fellow! I'm glad he has escaped. . "What did the old fellow judge from, eh, Joan?" asked he. This time he couldn't get far. " "Quite natural! Never forgive an injury!—I never do!—ha! ha!" "Really, Mr. She twisted her fingers tightly. ‘R-rien.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 25-09-2024 20:16:36