’ ‘I presume you were not with her in France?’ Kimble stared. "He has fallen by the hand of Blueskin, who brought me these packets. 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. ‘I’ll wager that militiaman never rode the animal, then. "It's very well you haven't crushed the poor little thing to death with this confounded clothes'-bag. ’ ‘Will you have done, Gerald?’ demanded Hilary, exasperated.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTMzLjExMy42NCAtIDE4LTA5LTIwMjQgMTM6NDU6MDAgLSA4MzY0MDIzNDc=
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 13-09-2024 14:16:55
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9 - Ref10 - Ref11