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. He subjected me there to great annoyance by claiming me as his wife. At last he could bear it no longer. She took to listening through closed doors. " "Quite natural! Never forgive an injury!—I never do!—ha! ha!" "Really, Mr. Kneebone's house, the young man hastened to a hotel in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, where, having procured a horse, he shaped his course towards the west end of the town.
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This video was uploaded to bbdy.space on 04-06-2024 17:13:00
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