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He flung open the door and cast a quick glance round. You
simply can't get good oil down there, so I must husband the few drams I carry. “I wonder if you will?”
“Let me say one thing,” he said. She
must kill this man, or kill herself. 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. According to what I’ve heard, you oughtn’t to
be here. Lost from all protection, all her
family dead—as are mine. He made it brief.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 24-06-2024 04:59:08