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There MULSACK and SWIFTNECK, both prigs from their birth, OLD MOB and TOM COX took their last draught on earth: There RANDAL, and SHORTER, and WHITNEY pulled up, And jolly JACK JOYCE drank his finishing cup! For a can of ale calms, A highwayman's qualms, And makes him sing blithely his dolorous psalms And nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! "Singing's dry work," observed the stranger, pausing to take a pull at the bottle. Briefly explained, she was as the child who discards the rag baby for the living one. E. Wood. Fritz sang for her sometimes, for Fritz could sing even before he was able to form words. What would it be without that safeguard?” Ogilvy pursued his own topic.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 01-10-2024 11:19:40