“Stop! Don’t put your face there. Our heads swim with the thought of being together. Each one had been different from the others, each had had a quality all its own, a distinctive freshness, a distinctive beauty. 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.
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This video was uploaded to pok-ddal23.live on 05-06-2024 11:17:52
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