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. ‘Well, young man,’ he said, ‘we haven’t seen you lately,’ and something about ‘Bateson & Co. And now let's go back to the Shovels, and finish our brandewyn and bier, Muntmeester. She dropped beside the chair, sat cross-legged, and laughed at the futile jade-coloured wall. Wood is now in very affluent circumstances.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 26-09-2024 20:08:19