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. “Mike, what’s going on?” She sat up, groggily rubbing her eyes. Earles, but it is a good one. " "Come along, master," said the waterman. “That sounds so uncouth,” she murmured. “Please make yourselves comfortable while I see to the coffee.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ1LjE3OC4xNCAtIDE4LTA5LTIwMjQgMTA6NTU6MzIgLSA3NjczODczOTg=
This video was uploaded to uggpascherfo.com on 16-09-2024 00:20:57
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9 - Ref10