“You’re our superstar!” Turning to her foster father, she was bear hugged again, squashing the white carnations. ‘For once, you’re talking like a sensible man. There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. 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.
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This video was uploaded to warmfuckclips.com on 17-09-2024 04:28:20
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