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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. “My dear friend,” she laughed, “not so tragic, if you please. She wondered when her tormentors would simply lose interest now that Katy had been discovered and suspended. Coffee à la Turque wasn't so bad; but a guy couldn't soak his breakfast toast in it. She too at once developed an anxious interest in the street outside. .
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This video was uploaded to sportbetting6.info on 12-07-2024 21:45:44
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