. E. 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. Jack had no sooner taken his place in the cart, than he was followed by the
ordinary, who seated himself beside him, and, opening the book of prayer, began
to read aloud. You'll need all your strength to grab him. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he
produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was
mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of
the sleeper, rudely shook it. ’
The possibility was indeed remote, for there had been no trouble with France
since the Peace of Versailles had been signed six years ago. ”
“What?” He asked, confused. His mother's scream seemed again to ring in his ears, and
he was so deeply affected that, fearful of exciting attention, he was about to quit
the sacred edifice, when he was stopped by the entrance of Thames, who looked
pale as death, with Winifred leaning on his arm.
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This video was uploaded to ladyboyroad.com on 08-07-2024 01:25:52