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. Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years. ” “It’s an unrest—a longing—What’s that?” The waiter had intervened.
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This video was uploaded to uggpascherfo.com on 22-09-2024 13:09:15
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