Who is the other?” “What other?” Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. She is the image of what I was like, and she has a better voice. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. . 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.
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This video was uploaded to southmsnightout.com on 19-07-2024 06:36:57
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