‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. “Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living. Where the robber may cheer His spirit with beer, 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! III. Come now, I am very glad to see you again so soon, mademoiselle whatever-your-name-is.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 30-06-2024 10:22:16
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