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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. ‘I think you’ve gone stark, staring crazy. ‘Let me see if our minds are attuned. The boy was bright and inquisitive as he was subtle.
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This video was uploaded to siguava.com on 02-06-2024 01:23:53
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