They were on their way back home, or so she had thought. Perhaps I ate something spoiled for breakfast. 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. "Gracious Heavens! this is more wonderful than all the rest," cried the carpenter, rubbing his eyes. They were exquisite.
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This video was uploaded to zbrushcore.club on 17-09-2024 15:31:29
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