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. But this revulsion was engulfed by the succeeding waves of pity and understanding. CHAPTER I. ‘But tell me this instead. I just like you, Mary, and we’ve had a lot of fun. Immediately she had spoken of the loose button he knew that henceforth he must show no concern over the disposition of that coat.
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