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\" He said. 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. His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round. After that consolations fled. There's something queer about that young man; but we'll never be able to find out what it is.

Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDUyLjE0LjE3Mi45MyAtIDIxLTA5LTIwMjQgMTc6MDE6NDggLSAyMTI5OTkzMTA2

This video was uploaded to woodsdrivingschool.com on 17-09-2024 10:45:58

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