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Her bald head had swollen on her shoulders, puffy with fresh blood that ringed her mouth. Rushing towards the entrance of the well-hole, Blueskin touched the secret spring. "Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. I’ll mention it. "Well, since you force me to betray my master's secrets," replied Quilt, sullenly, "I've ridden express to Manchester to deliver a message to Sir Rowland. 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.
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This video was uploaded to uggpascherfo.com on 19-09-2024 20:27:04
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