#66250 - Then I'd want that bitch to make me dinner. Twas with thine sprightly blunderbuss We walked the winding road Wilst winter whipped it's winds around Snow swirled sweeping round On Sunday we ate the Jesus wafer Thine glory is not diminished But ye that did cleave unto Mine flesh torpedo That thou shalt take Mine flesh torpedo Whose glory is not diminished Then you could grab me a beer And make me dinner.
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