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One night, she drew close to him in bed, trying to warm herself by embracing his back. There MULSACK and SWIFTNECK, both prigs from their birth, OLD MOB and TOM COX took their last draught on earth: There RANDAL, and SHORTER, and WHITNEY pulled up, And jolly JACK JOYCE drank his finishing cup! For a can of ale calms, A highwayman's qualms, And makes him sing blithely his dolorous psalms And nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! "Singing's dry work," observed the stranger, pausing to take a pull at the bottle. ‘This is insupportable. Listen to your mother's prayers, and do not let her die brokenhearted. The horror of those few minutes was still with her.
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This video was uploaded to pok-ddal23.live on 01-06-2024 12:36:51
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