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” Again on his way homeward from Cavendish Square he abandoned the direct route to pass by the door of Anna’s flat. 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. He was fast rising to an eminence that no one of his nefarious profession ever reached before him, nor, it is to be hoped, will ever reach again. ’ ‘Believe me, she wouldn’t have cared. So that Ann Veronica was not able to get the expert advice she certainly needed upon her spiritual state.
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This video was uploaded to freechristian.online on 08-06-2024 22:28:17
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