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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. ‘And I have a very good mind to kill you. Our quarrel's quite over. I feel at moments as though I could bolt for it. “Are you a special sort of clergyman,” she said, after a pause, and looking down her nose at him, “or do you go to the Universities?” “Oh!” he said, profoundly. "Well, Sir?" gasped Sir Rowland. "Jump!" cried Ben, in a voice of thunder. ’ Gerald could not suppress a grin.

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This video was uploaded to extremesport8.info on 13-07-2024 10:50:28

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