To view this video please enable JavaScript, and consider upgrading to a web browser that supports HTML5 video
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. It simply doesn’t count. “I can’t see what possible benefit can come of discussing things that are settled. The knife is at my breast. They poisoned the system with lead and exploded half the time on the other side.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ1LjEyNS4yMDUgLSAyNC0wOS0yMDI0IDE4OjI3OjA3IC0gMTEwODc1MjU5Mg==
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 21-09-2024 11:50:29