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’ ‘Without permission. 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. Annabel! Annabel!” His voice became a shriek. He sat with folded arms and knitted brows, thinking intently. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. “For no other reason than you talk too much. Before we start, I'll accommodate you with a pair of ruffles.
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This video was uploaded to sports-card-supplies.info on 26-06-2024 05:54:34
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