Rise that heater, tap that mash They don't come outside their flats Decamp, decamp, aim this toolie at your hat They piss us off on Snap, so we rise up and load them straps

These were confusing times for all railwaymen, said Dr. Beeching in a message to B.R. staff, enclosed in their pay packets one week in July.

Elena went on to Boston Latin alone, and Genette got into a crowd in her middle school. Even though Elena was in seventh grade, at Boston Latin she was called a sixie, and they were the bottom of the heap.

I extended my hand and barely got “great to see you again, Kurt” out before he brushed it aside, going in for a hearty brohug.