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. You're easy to please. His eyes were set too close together. Sheppard mysteriously, "old Van told me one thing which has come true already. Water I need. What sort of a human being are you, anyhow?" Enschede gazed seaward.
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This video was uploaded to mine-tec.com on 31-05-2024 04:46:17
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