He savored the last solo, the coda. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. The action steadied him; and there was a phase of irony, too, that helped. Jolly nose! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip Are dug from the mines of canary; And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip With hogsheads of claret and sherry.
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This video was uploaded to flood-rescue.com on 04-07-2024 11:40:50
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