Majorities, right or wrong, dare not revolt. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing. 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. ‘Danged if I ever hear the like! A Frenchie is what you are, and there ain’t no granddaughter Charvill no more. Ennison listened, and his eyes glowed. There will be no more children in this house, not ever! And if anyone ever tries bringing children into our house again, I shall kill the lot of them. "Stop thief!" clamoured the rabble behind. His fears supplied him with unwonted vigour.
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This video was uploaded to jandlonmark.org on 04-07-2024 19:31:07
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