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. You know the sort of thing. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house.
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This video was uploaded to shootingsportsretailer.info on 29-06-2024 22:10:58
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