. ’ ‘I think he only wants to help you, miss,’ offered Jack. “You’ll be there, right?” She asked, hearing his breathing audibly jump. I'm not hungry. 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. ” “But waive that point.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIxNy4xNjQuMTQzIC0gMjQtMDktMjAyNCAxODozMTowNyAtIDQyMzAyNTgxNQ==
This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 21-09-2024 05:56:56