So ofte a-daye I mot thy werk renewe, It to correcte and eek to rubbe and scrape; And al is thorugh thy negligence and rape.
The bartender looked at her malevolently for a moment, shook his head, and walked away to mix the drink. I never had one of those, those vermouth cassises, Freddie said.
I never had one of those, those vermouth cassises,
Along the kerb-stone, itinerant vendors of prints, and stain-cleaning pastes, and mosaic gold chains, and studs, display their merchandise; and round the corner, near the tavern door, the Italian boy grinds his pianoorgan in dumb show.
No, I don’t like work. I had rather laze about and think of all the fine things that can be done.
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