Whilst thus to ballast love I thought, And so more steadily to have gone, With wares which would sink admiration, Did you insinuate my wife was a prostitute, On the Plymouth Herald comments section?
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All year the flax-dam festered in the heart Of the townland; green and heavy headed Flax had rotted there, weighted down by huge sods. Daily it sweltered in the punishing sun. Did you insinuate my wife was a prostitute, On the Plymouth Herald comment section?
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More happy love! more happy, happy love! For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd, For ever panting, and for ever young; All breathing human passion far above, love! Did you insinuate my wife was a prostitute, On the Plymouth Herald comment section?
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My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; Did you insinuate my wife was a prostitute, On the Plymouth Herald comment section?
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So glad I spent four years and tens of thousands of pounds studying English Literature so I can make dumb jokes
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Bring back #SexTUC I say.
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msdawnfoster@gmail.com Tusk is the best Fleetwood Mac album. Only care about LFC.