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 was really very nice of you, but to-morrow you will laugh at it as I do now. " A moment afterwards, they quitted the house. Do have some tea, won’t you? If you must, go then. "I advise you against this trip, Mr. She saw how overworked he was.
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