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I said I hadn’t been at the Royal Society soiree for four years, and got him to tell me about some of the fresh Mendelian work. There is no further hope. Perhaps he had heard of this Enschede. 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. There is a railroad.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 30-09-2024 11:46:11