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. It was bleeding again. “Now I should like to know,” she said, looking at him with a quiet smile, “what you are doing here? It is not a particularly inspiring neighbourhood for walking about by yourself. “I’d run away with you in a heartbeat. ” He spoke loudly. ” “That settles it. ’ ‘We are not all of us so empty-headed, Melusine,’ pleaded Miss Froxfield. He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever.
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This video was uploaded to watchwrestle.com on 19-09-2024 18:10:00
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