Should it e'er be my lot to ride backwards that way, At the door of the Crown I will certainly stay; I'll summon the landlord—I'll call for the Bowl, And drink a deep draught to the health of my soul! Whatever may hap, I'll taste of the tap, To keep up my spirits when brought to the crap! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of St. “Just remember, I have to make this up to you. "But it is much to me. Very fascinating, though, trying to analyse the impulse. ‘And you, my girl, if you’d been born at all, would have been just what you think you are.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 30-09-2024 01:43:42