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. There was nothing to be got out of the man. ” “A—what?” Anna asked. Let us pass, Sir. His hands came up, his face broke apart.
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This video was uploaded to ssibasmatirice.com on 10-05-2024 18:14:38
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