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. ‘No, for you had your own selfish plans already made, that is now seen. Lucy stared out to the busy streets beyond. “He’s got good taste, you know. Ramage—about the forty pounds. . ” She smiled at him. And, turning to his daughter, he gave the necessary directions in a low tone. She put out her hands to avoid his embrace. But I mustn't think of these things, or I shall grow mad.
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This video was uploaded to bbdy.space on 18-07-2024 01:38:21
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