Shari draped herself lazily upon her unmade bed. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. go. 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. He wondered why she thought love made people happy, and began to talk of the smilax and pinks that adorned the table. I—I am a lovesick idiot, and not accountable for my actions.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExOC4yLjIyNSAtIDIyLTA5LTIwMjQgMDA6MjE6MjggLSA2MDMwMTAwNTY=
This video was uploaded to watchwrestle.com on 21-09-2024 08:43:20
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9 - Ref10