Where Saint Giles' church stands, once a lazar-house stood; And, chain'd to its gates, was a vessel of wood; A broad-bottom'd bowl, from which all the fine fellows, Who pass'd by that spot, on their way to the gallows, Might tipple strong beer, Their spirits to cheer, And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! II. And now—Dear! Dear! The dayspring from on high hath visited me. ‘Gérard, you are a great fool. What I said about your brat was all stuff. ’ ‘Ah, that was an affair altogether different,’ she explained and fluttered her long lashes at him. “I suppose you’re like the rest of them.
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This video was uploaded to ssibasmatirice.com on 06-06-2024 09:08:55
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