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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. “It sounds too ridiculous. ” His voice conveyed studied moderation. ” He bent and kissed her hair and paused, and then forced his attention back to the map. ‘Oh, famous.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 03:14:29