She exited solemnly, retrieving and carrying Michelle’s unconscious figure into the forest like a reluctant bridegroom. “I’ve got nothing in the world to pack with except a toy size portmanteau. “Oh, Veronica!” she said, “to leave your home!” She had been weeping. “Those were good. It was less will than education. It’s a mismatch. “There’s no one here except me. There MULSACK and SWIFTNECK, both prigs from their birth, OLD MOB and TOM COX took their last draught on earth: There RANDAL, and SHORTER, and WHITNEY pulled up, And jolly JACK JOYCE drank his finishing cup! For a can of ale calms, A highwayman's qualms, And makes him sing blithely his dolorous psalms And nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! "Singing's dry work," observed the stranger, pausing to take a pull at the bottle.
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This video was uploaded to mine-tec.com on 17-05-2024 19:23:11
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