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‘She would say, espéce de diable, this Melusine. 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. She realized in a moment what had happened. So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it.

Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTI4LjE5OS4xMzggLSAyNC0wOS0yMDI0IDEzOjMxOjQ0IC0gMjIyODQ1NTQw

This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 21-09-2024 23:36:33

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