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The policeman raised his voice, slightly agitated. 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. "But I like Bobby Burns best. Ramage back his forty pounds. Now you will learn the result. She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious. ” He caught her wrist and turned her face towards him. That’s my point. ’ ‘Unfair!’ echoed his junior.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 23-09-2024 16:13:30