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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. "We shall meet again ere long, my son," cried Mrs. Then Valade—was the man as big a fool as Nicholas?—tried again. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. He had barely settled at his desk in his library, when he was disturbed by two morning callers.

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This video was uploaded to smarthomeonline.shop on 28-05-2024 17:07:06

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