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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. "Go on. "I will live," cried Blueskin, with a look of the deadliest hatred at Wild, "to be revenged on you. She broke a cobblestone over his head and he was out. ” Annabel shrugged her shoulders. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked. "Lord, if I can only remember to write it exactly as you told it!" He jumped to his feet. Presently he heard her voice. “Nor am I now,” he answered.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 21:42:46