“We are not the sort that goes under,” said Ann Veronica, holding her hands so that the red reflections vanished from her eyes. Quick! Quick!" The order was only just given in time. 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. Half the rooms empty.
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This video was uploaded to bbdy.space on 01-06-2024 14:41:52
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