ROADS OF LONDON. Ralph Mc Legends.

You saw the old man in in block to the bottom the market.
Taking a step paper with its carried shoes.
In you do not see its eyes, of pride.
Hands held loosely by its side.
Yesterday papers, which explain information yesterday.

Thus, as can you declare me which you are alone?
And legends, for it, which it sun, not to seem let take me to you by the hand.
And lead by the roads of London.
I show you something to make modify to you your understanding.

Did you see the old girl who goes the roads of London?
Dirtiness in their hair and their clothing in the rags.
It is not a time for the leisures; it precisely holds towards the line on going.
Stretchers of their house in two bags of winding engine.

In all the coffee of night to a quarter behind eleven.
The same old man who sat there on his itself.
To consider the world on the edge his teacup.
Each tea then lasts an hour, which him at the house only wanders.

You did see the old man outside the mission of the sailor?
Memory, which as the medal of herbalist쳌fs volumes which it carries.
In our town of winter go the rain a little compassion.
Not interested in a hero verges sceneries in a world, not.