ChatterBank6 mins ago
On What Date And At What Time
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can I start stuffing my face with food I don't normally eat? I need to know exactly when it's the right time to say, 'Well, it is Christmas!'
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No best answer has yet been selected by Tilly2. Once a best answer has been selected, it will be shown here.
For more on marking an answer as the "Best Answer", please visit our FAQ.Just had a look round at fridge,cupboard and order due tomorrow - the only thing I wouldn't normally buy is a Ginger sponge pud for Christmas day dessert.
I rarely eat dessert,don't like mince pies,Christmas cake or pudding, so mainly the usual ingredients here.
Oh and I eat sprouts at least once a week all year through.
Enjoy Tilly.
I rarely eat dessert,don't like mince pies,Christmas cake or pudding, so mainly the usual ingredients here.
Oh and I eat sprouts at least once a week all year through.
Enjoy Tilly.
Tilly cannot determine the meaning
Of sorrow that fills her breast:
A fable of old, through it streaming,
Allows her mind no rest.
The air is shortly cool in the gloaming
And gently flows the Rhine.
The crest of the mountain is gleaming
In fading rays of sunshine.
The loveliest maiden is sitting
Up there, so wondrously fair;
Her golden jewellry is glist'ning;
She combs her golden hair.
She combs with a gilded comb, preening,
And sings an AB song, passing time.
It has a most wondrous, appealing
And pow'rful melodic rhyme.
The waterboaty aboard his small skiff, -
Enraptured with a wild ache,
Has no eye for the jagged cliff, -
His thoughts on the seadogg heights fear forsake.
I think that the waves will devour
Both boat and man, by and by,
And that, with her dulcet-voiced power
Was done by the Loretilly
Of sorrow that fills her breast:
A fable of old, through it streaming,
Allows her mind no rest.
The air is shortly cool in the gloaming
And gently flows the Rhine.
The crest of the mountain is gleaming
In fading rays of sunshine.
The loveliest maiden is sitting
Up there, so wondrously fair;
Her golden jewellry is glist'ning;
She combs her golden hair.
She combs with a gilded comb, preening,
And sings an AB song, passing time.
It has a most wondrous, appealing
And pow'rful melodic rhyme.
The waterboaty aboard his small skiff, -
Enraptured with a wild ache,
Has no eye for the jagged cliff, -
His thoughts on the seadogg heights fear forsake.
I think that the waves will devour
Both boat and man, by and by,
And that, with her dulcet-voiced power
Was done by the Loretilly