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He will let you live if it pleases him. 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. That’s who you ought to go and see, miss. Taking hold of the hilt of his own foil, he drew it forth. “Yes! I must! The thing is becoming a torture to me. ” “You have it,” he declared confidently.
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This video was uploaded to brazilian-portuguese-translator.info on 10-06-2024 20:29:08
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