A young woman with a white badge on her arm stood and counted the sections as they entered their vans. 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. " "In whose favour is it made?" he inquired, sternly. A tall, clean-shaven man came out and walked rapidly through the room, exchanging greetings right and left, but evidently anxious to avoid being detained. ‘Gammon. Thanks. I had to go at a moment’s notice. " "You're a philosopher, too.
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This video was uploaded to pok-ddal23.live on 08-06-2024 08:48:52
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