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I swear it. 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. “No, he wouldn’t come here of all places—just now. ‘Don’t concern yourself.
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This video was uploaded to fairlopwaters.info on 25-05-2024 21:35:00
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