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. ‘Wait for me. The lantern was on the ground inside, ready. She had never been able to discover where her father had hidden his shaving mirror. "And so shall I," replied Edgeworth Bess. Do not remain with me.
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This video was uploaded to probiv.club on 10-07-2024 03:43:43
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