‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. “And all the rest of it perhaps is a song. The key is in my trousers. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTcuMjguMTA2IC0gMTgtMDUtMjAyNCAwMjowNDo0OSAtIDIxMjQ3MjQ2Nzg=
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