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. "Then you ought to be thankful to me for the warning. " "Aw light!" The two old friends held each other off at arms' length for inspection; this proving satisfactory, they began to prod and pummel one another affectionately. Gerald watched its approach with vague interest, which quickened when he saw that it was drawing up outside the very house out of which he had just stepped. But, hang it, I know it's good!" "Of course it is!" In the afternoon he began work on another tale. “Stop this—this humbugging,” he explained. “Tell your sister she was right to shoot, quite right.
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This video was uploaded to adiszena.com on 21-09-2024 00:14:38
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