He won't, won't he? Then bring me my boots.
He won't, won't he? Then bring me my boots.
Knight without fear and without reproach.
His eyes so dim, so wasted each limb, that, heedless of grammar, they all cried, that's him!
Right as a trivet.
Ghosts, like ladies, never speak till spoke to.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories