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. “I do not suppose he will be home till late. The great door of the Stone Hall was thrown open, and the sheriffs, preceded by the javelin-men, entered the room. 266 She peered up at him. ’ ‘As far as I know it, ma’am.
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