[…] The angels you can ne'er salute, For see, you have a goaten foot.
she hardly lets a Week pass without making the Lady Abbess and her Nuns a Visit, to regale with a Cup of burnt Brandy.
His fantastic post-college plans had all collapsed within a year of graduation.
We raced madly for about half a mile, behaving in as wild a manner as the poor bestung animals.
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