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. ‘Lover’s tiff indeed. He noted that she was fully dressed, that her hair was carefully done, that there was a knotted ribbon around her throat. IX. Couldn’t face me with what he’d done, the miserable blackguard. "The guv'ner'll be here afore midnight. Then she took her sister’s hand. Martha had not been pleased to find her spare one borrowed for that expedition when the major had found her outside the ballroom.
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