“I tell my Mom everything. I don't want her hurt. It amounted to two-and-twenty pounds. ‘To take a baby all the way to France without a wet-nurse. 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. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek.
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This video was uploaded to thiruvalluvan.com on 22-09-2024 00:57:04
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