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. Yet he’s been here for six years, and he’s as much a fixture as that sham mahogany sideboard. “I’m not in the mood right this instant. ’ Mrs Sindlesham’s alert glance found his.
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This video was uploaded to amateur-porno.info on 01-05-2024 23:10:30
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