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It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. But Ruth was his woman, and he had sworn to God to defend her. 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. " He smiled at her as he smiled at death, cheerfully.

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This video was uploaded to ssibasmatirice.com on 21-07-2024 14:16:00

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