Tis not her coldness, father, That chills my labouring breast; It's that confounded cucumber I've ate and can't digest.


The Ingoldsby Legends; Or, Mirth and Marvels (ed. 1870)

Richard Harris Barham Quotes

Tis not her coldness, father, That chills my labouring breast; It's that confounded cucumber I've ate and can't digest.

Tis not her coldness, father, That chills my labouring breast; It's that confounded cucumber I've ate and can't digest.

Tis not her coldness, father, That chills my labouring breast; It's that confounded cucumber I've ate and can't digest.

Tis not her coldness, father, That chills my labouring breast; It's that confounded cucumber I've ate and can't digest.