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. The way—the way we are led on! We are taught to believe we are free in the world, to think we are queens. “Excellent!” he exclaimed. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. “I think,” she said, “that I will tell you everything.
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This video was uploaded to warmfuckclips.com on 22-09-2024 01:46:56
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