So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. “Agreed,” he said, “certainly,” and drew a checkbook toward him. But since you assure me you didn't write the letters, and Mr. 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 said. You must tell me what it all means.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 22-09-2024 07:29:41
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