Love!” He held her arm and abandoned it again at her quick defensive movement. 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. Just me and another girl named Krista who turned eighteen and left right about when I got there. He was a man tout à fait capable, this Gerald. “And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather.
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