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"How are you off there, Shoplatch?" inquired Kneebone. Should it e'er be my lot to ride backwards that way, At the door of the Crown I will certainly stay; I'll summon the landlord—I'll call for the Bowl, And drink a deep draught to the health of my soul! Whatever may hap, I'll taste of the tap, To keep up my spirits when brought to the crap! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of St. She spied him sitting on his armless black couch, his feet splayed as he stared at his television blankly.
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This video was uploaded to launchmysitenow.com on 09-07-2024 23:15:03
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