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. A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY. We pretend we never think of everything that makes us what we are. "I owe you nothing," he repeated, dully. ToC Mr. " Man is a peculiar animal. ” “You have been to her?” he asked.
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This video was uploaded to pornografico.mobi on 19-07-2024 15:44:06
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