Dear dead Victoria Rotted cosily; In excelsis gloria, And R. I. P. And her shroud was buttoned neat, And her bones were clean and round, And her soul was at her feet Like a bishop`s marble hound. Albert lay a-drying, Lavishly arrayed, With his soul out flying Where his heart had stayed. And there`s some could tell you what land His spirit walks serene (But I`ve heard them say in Scotland It`s never been seen).SourceThe script ran 0.007 seconds.
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