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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. So he shut his eyes. An early bird clarinetist burst through in a long black skirt, swishing like a bell. "Take me, then," replied the widow. “Have you any money?” “Lots,” Anna answered laconically. " "Make your choice," said Jonathan. "Raise your vice, and lave off coughin'," added Terence.

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This video was uploaded to adiszena.com on 01-06-2024 23:36:22

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