Mr. Remember that. Sheppard. She longed to own something lasting, anything, but knew her wishes to be stupid. "Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. But I wanted to find out more, partly so I could share it with him. After the sights he would have to twiddle his thumbs until the joints cracked. While this took place, while Quilt thundered at the inner door, and Jack drew back the bolts of the outer, a deep, manly voice was heard chanting—as if in contempt of the general uproar—the following strain:— With pipe and punch upon the board, And smiling nymphs around us; No tavern could more mirth afford Than old Saint Giles's round-house! The round-house! the round-house! The jolly—jolly round-house! "The jolly, jolly round-house!" chorussed Sheppard, as the last bar yielded to his efforts.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 01-10-2024 05:06:03