The black clad students streamed slowly to their positions carrying their instruments like offerings to the pilgrimage. Should it e'er be my lot to ride backwards that way, At the door of the Crown I will certainly stay; I'll summon the landlord—I'll call for the Bowl, And drink a deep draught to the health of my soul! Whatever may hap, I'll taste of the tap, To keep up my spirits when brought to the crap! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of St. Then he understood.
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This video was uploaded to southmsnightout.com on 28-06-2024 11:52:37
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