The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. It was a unique experience for her to wash him. Wood obeyed. Rhea’s head exploded into a spray of blood, brain, and bone. 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. The calvacade was now put slowly in motion. "It's wretched enough, indeed, Sir," rejoined the widow; "but, poor as it is, it's better than the cold stones and open streets.
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This video was uploaded to dogtrainingengineering.online on 01-06-2024 00:14:06
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